Little Square of Cloth out!

When Peter is unexpectedly thrust into a bdsm club with a black hankie in his right back pocket, he has no idea that he’s signaling being a hard core sub who is up for anything. Lucky for him, Master Rupert takes one look and falls for the unwitting sub and takes Peter under his wing, in more ways than one.

Can a rescue at a club turn into so much more?

It's available as a stand alone story.

Or you can pick it up in the anthology along with six other fabulous stories.

There's a sample here on the publisher's page.



"I can smell you," murmured Rupert, hand moving up his thigh toward his cock.

"Oh, God. I'm sorry. I showered. I did."

"Oh, baby, that wasn't a complaint. Just the opposite." Rupert's hand reached the very firm bulge in his jeans, long fingers stroking him through the material.

His eyes went wide and he cried out. "Oh, please. I'll embarrass myself."

Rupert's hand stilled. "There's are back rooms where we could... relieve the pressure."

"Back room?" Those were real too? Peter was going to short right out.

"Somewhere a little more private, hmm?" Rupert's smile was so warm.

"Yes...yes, Sir." This was probably a terrible idea, but he was so tempted.

Standing, Rupert shielded him from the rest of the bar and held out a hand to him. He took it and Rupert led him, but it was hard to walk, his cock was full and aching. Rupert kept him moving, though, and they went through a door a few booths down from where they were. It was quieter back here, a long corridor with several doors.

"I... I always expect bars to be dirty in the back." Not just kinky bars, but all bars, really.

"Some of them might be. This one isn't." Opening one of the doors, Rupert checked first, then drew him in.

It wasn't terrifying. It was a simple room. Just a room. The light was low, and Rupert turned it even lower, moving them to the wide couch sitting against one of the side walls. There wasn’t much other furniture in the place. A bench, a table, the couch they were standing beside.

It was intimate, quiet, and Peter stared at Rupert. The man was muscled, broad shouldered, wearing a tight t-shirt and leather pants. A wet dream made flesh.