STORY EXCERPT

Jayme Alan caught his breath and waited for his turn on the catwalk. Backstage was always chaotic. He’d been pulled in so many directions—hair, makeup, photos—he needed a few minutes to decompress. He needed Victor.

Where are you?

Jayme tried not to fidget, but he felt like he might explode. His left thumb started rubbing circles on his index finger. For some reason, the embarrassing habit comforted him.

The new guy blew past Jayme and almost knocked him over. How did Yukio manage to look so cool, calm, and confident on his first runway walk?

“Break a leg,” Jayme muttered under his breath. And I don’t mean it in a good way.

Jayme’s anxiety increased, and his fingers moved faster. Seconds ticked by. Without Victor’s final approval, he wouldn’t be able to step onto the catwalk when he heard his cue. He looked around wildly.

The designer always came over to give Jayme’s outfit a last-minute check. Victor Velasquez had an eagle eye that missed nothing. He would straighten a seam or tuck a loose pleat, and then he’d lace his fingers with Jayme’s and give them a quick squeeze for good luck. Jayme might be a supermodel, but without this ritual, he could not step onto the runway. If the reassuring routine made him feel secure and confident, what was the harm?

Ah, there you are.

Jayme tried to catch Victor’s eye, but the designer, deep in conversation with Yukio, didn’t see him. The new boy was a damn good actor, wringing his hands like a nervous Nellie while Victor fussed like a helicopter parent hovering over his kid. Only this kid was a six-foot Asian beauty withcolorful peacock feathers woven into his long black hair. Practically drooling, Yukio hung on the designer’s every word. Victor seemed entranced by him as well. Jayme had ceased to exist.There was a time when Victor hovered and flapped his wings over Jayme in that same way. Watching Victor treat the new boy the way he used to coddle Jayme sent waves of jealousy crashing through his body.

Six years ago, Victor Velasquez, the well-known New York designer, had spotted Jayme’s photo in an underwear catalog. Jayme had been Alan Steele back then, an aspiring model who took whatever job came his way. Victor, fifteen years Alan’s senior, was already an icon in the world of fashion, and he was very good at recognizing certain qualities in young, inexperienced men. Alan’s auburn curls, angular features, and pouty lips presented a picture of pre-Raphaelite beauty that Victor could not resist—a blending of female attributes with male genitalia. The designer had always been intrigued by the concept of sexless beauty, and Alan’s look translated well on the glossy pages of fashion magazines.

Victor’s discerning eye had seen through the window dressing and discovered Alan’s shyness, his quiet nature, and his pleasure in obeying and submitting, even when there was no sexual reward. It didn’t mean that he turned into a Victor-pleasing robot. It just made him happy to see his mentor happy. He became a sounding board when the designer was angry and needed to vent. After learning to anticipate Victor’s wants and needs, Alan was there with a drink, a massage, or a blow job almost before Victor knew he needed one. Alan did these things because he wanted to, not because he felt he had to, and he never felt that his own needs were being neglected. Victor always gave him whatever he needed, whether it was a new coat or an orgasm.

Genetically blessed, Alan possessed a sleekly toned body and a physical presence that Victor Velasquez wanted to represent his fashion label—and warm his bed. The designer wasted no time in moving the aspiring wannabe into his luxurious penthouse apartment. Once living in New York, Alan Steele was reborn as Jayme Alan, and Victor set up an incredible modeling schedule. Jayme had been exhausted but happy. He admired the designer immensely, and he’d been thrilled to become Victor’s golden boy. He’d worked hard for him—in and out of the bedroom. Working exclusively for Victor Velasquez, Jayme had become the face of Victor’s brand. Besides walking the ramps for the Velasquez collections, he was highly paid to appear on the covers of the top fashion magazines—Elle, GQ, and Esquire. Then there were the TV and Internet ads where he was the brand ambassador for Velasquez products. Thanks to Victor, he became a superstar in the fashion industry.

ADULT EXCERPT

On the walk back to Torque’s cottage, the sexual tension between them was palpable. As soon as the door closed behind them Torque leaned over and whispered to Jayme, “And now I get my real dessert.”

Jayme’s pulse raced.

“Wait here,” Torque instructed him.

Jayme couldn’t move if he wanted to. He swallowed hard and managed a slight nod. Torque disappeared from the living room. When he came back, he had a scarf in his hand.

“Do you trust me?” he asked Jayme.

This time Jayme didn't have to think twice. “Yes.”

Jayme held his breath and didn’t move as Torque walked behind him. He expected Torque to bind his wrists, but instead the big man covered Jayme’s eyes with the silk. A shudder ran through his body as he lost his sight.

What does he have in store for me?

Jayme desperately wanted to know, but he didn’t dare ask. Victor had always hated it when Jayme questioned him. Jayme tensed, then relaxed. Torque wasn’t Victor. He was learning that he could trust Torque not to do anything that would harm him. Besides, he could stop him whenever he wanted.

“You okay, pet?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Don’t move.”

Torque’s hands moved across Jayme’s chest. He felt them working the buttons on his shirt. Slowly, Torque eased the shirt over his shoulders, and it slipped off his body. Fingers teased Jayme’s nipple, making him whimper. Not being able to see heightened Jayme’s other senses, and the brush of Torque’s fingers on his sensitive skin drove him wild.

“Like that, do you?” Torque pinched the other one.

Jayme’s cock jumped, and he whimpered louder.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Torque tugged and twisted. The mix of pain and pleasure made Jayme’s cock grow rock hard. He was in ecstasy. Suddenly he felt Torque’s tongue flicking one hard nub, then the other. Licking and nibbling on one nipple, Torque would tease the other with his fingers. Jayme started to moan. Completely aroused, he wanted to touch Torque. His hands rose of their own accord—

“No touching, pet.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Then I’ll have to restrain you. Put your hands behind your back.”

Jayme didn’t move.

“Did you hear me, pet?

At a loss for words, Jayme remained silent.

“Do you want me to stop?” Torque said softly.

“Green,” Jayme finally blurted out, his voice rough with desire.

“Okay then.” Torque bound his wrists with cuffs, and a little tingle of fear shot up Jayme’s spine.

“Okay so far?” Torque was in front of him again.

“Yes.” Despite the fear, Jayme had never felt so turned-on by another man, not even Victor.

“Good.”

Torque’s fingers played with the button on Jayme’s pants. Jayme heard the sound of the drawstring tie being undone, then the zipper going down. With a little help from Torque, the pants slid over his hips to puddle at his feet.

And now I’m totally naked and totally in his power.

Jayme could hear Torque moving around, and he wondered if the other man was as turned-on as he was. Torque moved closer, and Jayme felt warm breath on his cheek.

“You’re beautiful. I want to touch you. Taste you.”

“Yes…” A low moan came out of Jayme’s mouth. He wanted Torque’s touch badly.

Torque’s hands were everywhere. Fingers grazed his cheeks, brushed his lips, and then moved along his jaw, over his shoulders and down his chest. Then Torque was on his knees, touching his feet, and slowly moving up his calf. Fingers trailed up the insides of his thighs, then around and over his hips, completely bypassing his erection.

Touch me. For God’s sake, touch my cock.

Torque’s touch was electric. His long fingers wandered everywhere but where Jayme wanted them. The man would drive him insane. Being blindfolded added an edge of suspense. Jayme had no idea what his Dom would do next, and it made him feel so very vulnerable. And excited. Every touch made him shiver, every scent intoxicated him.

“Please,” Jayme begged. “Touch my cock.”

The hands disappeared, and Jayme felt overwhelmed with frustration. “No,” he whimpered. “Don’t stop.”

“Don’t speak unless I ask you to.”

Jayme nodded vigorously. For a second there was no movement, and then his cock was engulfed by the wet, warmth of Torque’s mouth. Jayme would have slumped to the floor, but Torque’s big hands on his hips steadied him as he ran his tongue around the ridge of Jayme’s cockhead and down along the veined shaft. Torque instinctively found the most sensitive part on Jayme’s cock. He flicked his tongue repeatedly across the tip as he sucked, teasing the slit. Jayme loved to have his slit played with, and the full-steam-ahead word became Jayme’s mantra as the hard sucking and Torque’s rough tongue brought him closer and closer to ecstasy.