LATEST NEWS & UPDATE:

Howdy, y'all!

We've had a freebie Snow Pirate, we've had a freebie Raccoon, and an audio release. I've had a conference, a trip to see my author wives, and we're a week out from Resist's release which means it's time for a chapter THREE teaser. Are you ready for Cora and Sterling to be released into the world? I'm not sure I am TBH, but let's see...

Here's the linky link to preorder: https://books2read.com/protocolresist1

Here's a teaser:

And here's chapter three:

Chapter 3

Sterling

The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is staring at my outstretched hand like it might be contaminated with something. So much so, I almost check to make sure there’s no lube on it or something.

She’s tall, with clear, porcelain-pale skin, long, dark hair, bright red lips, and a latex cat suit hugging every damn curve.

The wrinkles across the bridge of her nose are adorable as she regards my gesture with guarded curiosity. “C—Cecelia. Cecelia Carter.” The blush creeping up the side of her neck and into her cheeks leaves a crimson hue. How much of her skin has turned that delicious shade of red?

She takes my hand and shakes it. Her handshake is practiced, firm, and just the right length of time before she plucks her soft and delicate palm from mine leaving me wishing I’d grabbed onto her for just a moment longer. I feel her absence, even though her presence was fleeting.

I catch Jagger’s eye over Cecelia’s shoulder and give him a nod. I already prepped him that he might need to step into my shoes for an hour while I chat to Cecelia. Something about her is drawing me in, a magnetism... maybe it’s the unspoken challenge in her resting bitch face that’s making me want to talk to her.

Or maybe it’s that killer cat suit leaving little to the imagination. And don’t think I didn’t notice the crotch zip.

Hot. As. Fuck.

I’m under no illusions that this woman is out of my league, and also off-limits with the red band around her wrist. But Thor said it’s to stave off anyone wanting to get in her pants. He said she’s in a rough space and could use a friend, that “She’s worth the effort to break through her prickly outer shell.”

So I’m going to give it a shot, not because I like a challenge, not because I need a distraction. But because I don’t feel like fucking around tonight. I can’t wear a red band like she is. I have to be ‘on’ for the club, for my role as DM, even if all I want to do is hide.

Maybe she could help me hide, with her red band... maybe we could both be ‘red,’ inaccessible for the evening.

If friendship is what she’s putting down, I’ll pick it up.

If she says no, then at least I’ve tried.

When I walked in here tonight, my blood was hot with rage. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to cut through the red haze consuming my body, and yet, one cursory glance from this woman downgraded my bubbling wrath to a steady simmer.

The way she tips her head reminds me I’m still standing staring at her, lost in my own mind, so I flash an easy, warm smile. “First time?”

Her brow barely moves but there’s a twitch that tells me she’s not entirely sure what I mean.

A rare wave of heat creeps up my neck making my skin hot under the starched black collar. “I mean at the club, not...” I wave. “Never mind.”

The corners of her lips threaten to tug into a smirk but that resting bitch face seems impenetrable, even for me. I’m told I can be quite charming.

Challenge accepted.

“This isn’t my first Club Protocol rodeo. It’s just been a while.”

Makes sense. Thor didn’t tell me how he knew her, or anything about her, not even her name because he had to go and serve customers before we got that far. But the way she holds herself—tall, relaxed, confident, looking people straight in the eyes—should have told me she wasn’t a sex club virgin. She’s comfortable here, not unsure or outwardly anxious.

When I left my house earlier this evening, I was determined not to play with anyone. I wasn’t going to let my anger leak out onto someone else. Keep it contained, calm down, stay alert and keep people safe.

But the closer I am to this woman and her jasmine scent, the more I want to throw caution to the wind. Even if she’s wearing a red arm band to tell me she’s not interested.

I won’t push my lust onto her, but if she were to offer, I’m but merely a man. There’s no fucking way I’m saying no.

“I’m actually looking for my friend.”

My heart sinks as she surveys the crowd. Maybe Thor was fucking with me by telling me she is single. Of course, she could be talking about an actual friend, it would make sense with the red band. Maybe Thor’s fucking with me. Shit.

“I need to tell her I’m leaving.”

I thought my heart had dropped, but it slinks lower at her announcement that she’s about to go.

“There she is.” She points in the direction of the St. Andrew’s cross on display in the middle of the open space we’re standing in. She seems to be pointing to my collegue Phoenix who is currently finishing up a flogging session on the cross.

“Phoenix?”

She nods. “Well. Thanks for the drink. I’m gonna get going.” She hooks her thumb toward Phoenix on the stage and doesn’t hesitate before she heads that way.

I cut her off. “I’ll walk you over.”

Her eyes widen like she might be scared. I hold my hands up. “Or not.”

She pauses for a long moment before glancing to Phoenix then back at me. She jerks her chin. “It’s okay, you can walk me across the room if you want.” There’s curiosity in her eyes, but it’s guarded by a fence ten feet tall.

“Fucking finally.” Phoenix jumps down and bumps Cecelia on her shoulder when we get to the stage. “I thought you were superglued to that stool upstairs.” She turns to me, then eyeballs Cecelia before her face morphs into an enigmatic smirk. “Hmmm.” She regards me again. “Yeah. I could see it.” She waves her finger between us, and that pink stain blooms in Cecelia’s cheeks again.

Did I just get friend approval? A lesser man would puff his chest out right now, maybe even beat it like an ape. But not me, I simply cover a smile with a cough into my fist like a normal person.

“What? No.” Cecelia’s eyes widen as she shakes her head. “I bumped into him at the bottom of the stairs. It’s not what you think.”

It could be if you want it to be.

Phoenix flicks a brow before running her tongue across her top row of teeth. “Uh huh. Sure, sure. Whatever.” She waves a hand. “You’re not leaving. So if you’re not going to hang with Sterling, I’ll have to find someone else to tie you up so you can’t bolt.” The satisfied smirk on Phoenix’s face says ‘checkmate.’

Now there’s a thought. The idea of tying this goddess down, having her helpless and at my mercy stirs my dick in my pants.

I’m normally not a one-track-minded man, but my blood was hot before I stepped into the club. While she calmed it for a little while, it’s like this woman has poured gasoline on an open flame and stoked it with those six inch heels she’s precariously balanced on.

Cecelia opens her mouth to speak, snaps it shut, then opens it again, but no words come out.

“Cecelia was just telling me she wants to head over to the viewing rooms to see if anything tickles her fancy.” My tone is cool and breezy as Phoenix registers what I’ve said.

It’s a downright lie. I know it. Cecelia knows it. And I’m pretty sure Phoenix knows it too.

“Oh, she did, did she?” She turns to Cecelia. “Did you say that to Sterling, Cecelia?” Her voice is laden with sarcasm and her expression full of scrutiny as she studies her friend.

Cecelia stares at me before meeting Phoenix’s gaze then nods. “I did. Sterling offered to give me a tour but it hasn’t been that long since I’ve been here. And I wouldn’t want to keep him from his responsibilities.”

Her cool fingers touch my forearm sending tiny jolts of electricity skittering along my skin. Huh. That’s unusual, but not unwelcome.

“Ooooooh,” Phoenix drawls. “Jagger’s covering for him right now. Take all the time you need.” There’s a heavy suggestion in her voice that makes me smile. Am I attracted to Phoenix’s friend? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Do I care that Phoenix has noticed that it’s likely written all over my face? Nope.

Is the feeling mutual?

I don’t know. I can’t tell whether Cecelia wants to fuck me or kill me. From the way her face is schooled, it could probably go either way. But from the way her eyes periodically flick to me when she seems to think I’m not looking tells me I might still have a chance to make her smile.

Or maybe even more.

I hold my arm out to her, and she stares at it the way she did my outstretched hand only a few minutes ago. “My lady.” I flare my elbow as if to tell her to take my arm.

Phoenix rolls her lips between her teeth and folds her arms, pushing her impressive rack even higher. From the waist up, she’s giving slutty Bridgerton vibes tonight, and, while she isn’t interested in cock, it’s a damn shame for all men everywhere. She’s absolutely gorgeous.

Cecelia glances at Phoenix before hissing out a slow sigh like she’s resigned to the fact she’s backed herself into a corner. She’s either got to take a turn about the room with me, or see who Phoenix picks out from the crowd for her to chat to.

Better the devil you know.

Metaphorically speaking.

Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I’d like to think I’m the better option, and not solely because my dick wants her to toot my horn for me.

My palm itches to press against the shiny fabric of her outfit on her lower back, but the red band on her arm and the red stripes on her cat suit flare like a beacon warding me off.

No contact of any kind until I receive consent. It’s one of the first tenements of kink, and one I won’t ever break.

When Cecelia links her arm through mine, I resist the urge to fist pump like a frat boy watching a football game. Barely. Fuck. I’m not starved for attention or affection, I have a sizable list of regular playmates should I wish to imbibe, but something about this woman’s cool exterior has summoned a curiosity in me.

Phoenix cants her head as though she wasn’t expecting it to happen either. “Interesting,” she purrs. “Well, you kids have fun.” She shrugs and turns back to the cross and the growing crowd waiting for her next demo. Her taut bronze ass peeking through those assless chaps is glorious, and what’s more, she knows it, too.

“I guess you’re stuck with me.” I give my reluctant company a sideward glance as I lead her to one of the corridors that stem off the main space. “At least until Phoenix forgets her threat.” I follow that with a chuckle, because if you’ve known Phoenix any length of time, you’ll know there’s little to no chance of that happening.

Cecelia snorts. “Not likely. Foxy won’t forget.”

Huh. Foxy. Interesting. With one word she’s told me something about herself, something personal, and it feels like a tiny gold nugget that needs to be treasured and for some reason protected. Something about Cecelia’s air feels sad, somber, reserved. And I’m not sure if it’s because that’s just who she is, or if someone did something to make her this way.

A million questions bubble at the back of my tongue, desperate to burst out to make conversation, but I know it’s fruitless and only likely to spook her and send her further into her prickly shell.

Instead, I fall silent, I don’t ask her anything, I don’t probe her or force her into an awkward conversation she’d only pray for rescue from. I meet her where she is, and hope that’s maybe enough for her to decide to talk to me a little more.

We walk the length of the corridor, not going into any of the rooms on either side, or even slowing to see what’s inside, when we get to the end of the hall, the glowing red “no entry” sign over the door to the staff only area of the building draws us to a stop.

She spins on her heel as though she’s ready to walk back up the hall but a wobble starts in her foot and rolls through her body as she loses her balance. She’s graceful as she misses her footing, but her hands shoot out to grab my arm and the delicious way her nails bite through my shirt and into my skin pull a growly rattle from the back of my throat.

I know it’s straight-up lust. I know she’s the friend—from the nickname a really good fucking friend—of a friend and colleague. And I know I shouldn’t mix work with pleasure, even if my work is literally a club designed for people’s ultimate pleasure.

But there’s something about the swell of this woman’s hips, the plumpness of her bright red pouty lips, and the glossy black-as-night shine from her thick long hair that has me in a fucking death grip.

She looks at me with wide, relieved eyes. “I knew I was going to go on my ass before the night was out.”

I offer a reassuring smile. “Just call me fall break.”

Her mouth twitches, but still no smile.

“You want to go up?” I point at the “Staff Area” plaque on the door. Then shake my head. Offering to put myself in a confined and private space with a stranger is a stupid move, a rookie fucking mistake. This woman has thrown me off my axis.

She doesn’t look afraid, more bemused, but I still feel the need to try to settle any misgivings she might have about me.

“Never mind. I’m not a sleaze. I swear.” I wipe my clammy hands on my dress pants. “You just... I don’t know.”

If the lighting wasn’t so dim, I could probably see that glorious burst of red streak across her cheeks to match the one undoubtedly spreading across mine.

She half-smiles, and the way something flares in my chest should be embarrassing, but I’m taking the win. “It’s okay. You don’t get to be the protector of a sex dungeon by being a sexual predator.” A shudder snakes up her spine. “At least I hope not.”

I smile, but my insides have turned to lava. Of course Cecelia has no idea what she’s said but lumping me into the same group as those... disgusting excuses for human beings makes my skin crawl.

Flashes of my conversation with Mom from last night rear their ugly head in my mind as Cecelia continues her journey back along the corridor we just walked.

Learning that a man forced himself on my mother when I was a kid has my teeth grinding and fists clenching through a surging burst of venom in my veins.

How any man thinks it’s okay to cross that line is beyond me.

Cecelia tosses me a confused look over her shoulder. “You coming?”

I’m well practiced at keeping my own feelings under control, putting on a mask for those around me and giving them what they need, often at the expense of myself and whatever’s brewing inside my body.

Back then, I needed to be okay for my sister, Tessa, when Dad left and Mom fell apart.

I never knew why, until last night.

Another man broke her, Dad abandoned her, and I was left to figure out how to keep us all together.

My casual fake-smile quickly became like a well-worn pair of slippers, a comfortable, semi-permanent mask. But right now, the struggle to ground myself in the present and not let my mother’s past consume me has my entire body vibrating.

I manage a nod at Cecelia and urge my feet to move. When I make up the few steps to her side, she slides her arm through mine, and my muscles relax a little under her touch.

I can’t forget forever, but maybe, with Cecelia’s help, I can forget for tonight.

Preorder now! https://books2read.com/protocolresist1

Until next time, don't do anything I wouldn't do,

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Justin

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Read Two for Interference, today!