When kink gets boring, it’s time to play on the edge.
“Yes, Sir. No, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” It was the same old thing for as long as Keady could remember, and kink had officially become boring. Fresh out of a year-long contract, the only one who catches Keady’s eye is Cutler, a Dom who looks as menacing as his name. It’s too bad Keady is convinced Cutler is some kind of serial killer and not worth the risk of ending up in a freezer.
To try to spark some excitement, Keady throws out his limits—every single one. The decision lands him in a dangerous situation with an unfamiliar Dom, and, surprisingly, it’s Cutler who comes to his rescue.
But with Keady already thinking about leaving the community at Unkinked behind, it’s up to Cutler to push him to the edge and beyond.
Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of impact play, edge play, consensual non-consent, group sex, and sharing. It can be read as a stand-alone but is best read as book six in a series.
General Release Date: 5th September 2023
“Yes, Sir. No, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Keady rolled his eyes as he strolled to the bar, slipping through the middle of a scene that looked like it was about to get intense. The Dom shot him a glare at the interruption, the sub hardly noticing from his position on the floor.
That glare was like a taste of the thrill he’d been seeking for months. Too bad he wasn’t welcome.
The Dom had no right to be pissed at him. That was what happened when you set up a scene in the middle of the bar area. There was an open play area in the club for a reason.
But at least that Dom was looking at him with something other than mild contemplation—not that Malone, Keady’s own Dom, didn’t look. He was just too sweet, too careful and too fucking gentle. It drove Keady insane. Instead of ‘Yes, Sir,’ ‘Go fuck yourself, Sir’ had been on the tip of his tongue before he’d excused himself and headed for drinks. Malone had only smiled and nodded obliviously, sending him another patient look.
He didn’t get it—or Keady—and it was infuriating. There were so many couples at Unkinked—a club for kinky bastards like him—and they all seemed so much happier than he was. They all appeared to know exactly what they wanted, when he was still tripping over limits like some newbie.
If lust had a smell, it was Unkinked, with music pounding off the bodies that were all searching for the same goal. Sweat and sex mixed with the latest cocktail, coating his tongue and skin. Some members came to get drunk, and others wanted to submit, but the outcome was the same. They all left satisfied. Except me.
Leaning against the bar top, Keady bit his lip before looking over his shoulder. Malone was looking his way, speaking with another Daddy Dom like him. Keady had thought that maybe he was little, but now he wasn’t so sure. He loved to color, could play video and board games for hours and the thought of wearing a diaper was positively thrilling.
But it didn’t push him the way he wanted to be pushed, and after a few months of being his ‘Daddy’s boy’, he’d reverted to ‘Sir’. He’d hoped that Malone would punish him for it, but he never had, taking it all in stride and grabbing him another coloring book from the store to doodle in.
“What can I get you?” Clint sidled up to him from the other side of the bar, and Keady sent him a smile filled with relief. If there was any person he’d spill his guts to, it was Clint. Owner of the BDSM bar Unkinked and former nurse, Clint had patched him up enough times that he knew almost everything about Keady—except for the part that matters.
“Anything…please. I’ll double the tip if you spike it with something fun.” Keady lowered his head into his palm, scrubbing the sweat from his skin. “And for Christ’s sake, turn up the air conditioning. It’s packed in here tonight.”
Clint only chuckled, slipping him a ginger ale and a smile. “Don’t want to get you in trouble.”
Keady grasped the fizzy drink, struggling down a swallow while wishing for something so much harder. He must’ve been insane to sign a contract that prohibited alcohol. Then again, he’d been pretty fucking desperate at the time. He’d pissed off more than a few Doms before he’d finally settled for Malone.
“But could you?” asked Keady, his voice surprisingly desperate. Usually, he was better at hiding it, but tonight was getting under his skin in the worst way. The packed bar, sweet smiles and the sound of pain from other subs weren’t helping, either.
Clint paused, narrowing his eyes and giving him another once-over. The dishcloth in his hand was well-loved and worn, the color all but faded away. “How long until your contract is up?”
Clint knew as well as he did that Keady would never break a contract. He was serious about kink, and he’d been in the lifestyle since he’d graduated high school—before high school had ended, really, if he counted the few choice boyfriends he’d put through the wringer.
“Three months.” Fuck, that sounded so long. Ninety days of ‘Sir’ at the end of every sentence and unfulfilled orgasms… Ninety more days without subspace and probably more, if he were honest with himself… He hadn’t been that deep in…years.
“That’s not so bad.” Clint scratched his chin where three days’ worth of growth was. On most guys, unshaven and worn clothes would look sloppy, but on Clint, it was endearing. He was hard not to love when he spread his heart around to everyone. “We’ll be in the new place by then, and who knows? Maybe you’ll find your dream Dom.”
The rumors that Clint was leaving the bar behind and building a house of kink instead had been circulating for months. It was nice to finally hear the gossip confirmed. It was also a little terrifying.
Unkinked had become a home to so many kinksters like himself, and the thought that they might be uprooted put him on edge. It wasn’t so much the bar, the open play area and the themed rooms, but everything else. The people.
Keady snorted, taking another sip of the sweet bubbles. It reminded him of the days he’d spent sick on his mother’s couch, flat ginger ale his companion when nothing else worked. Once they’d figured out that he was allergic to meat, the stale soda had become a thing of his past.
“You know I won’t.” He swirled his glass, tapping his foot as the song switched to something low and throaty. Hopefully, the new place had better music with speakers that could blast his eardrums out.
“I thought we talked about this,” said Clint, swiping at a bit of moisture from the bar top with the cloth. Another man stepped up to order, but Clint ignored the guy. “Your dream Dom and your nightmare are pretty close to the same thing in your fantasies, but this is your life. I need you to be safe, okay? I don’t want to go down that road again.”
It was the road that had left Keady with a few scars on his back and a stern talking-to from Clint. He’d been terrified that his membership to Unkinked would be rescinded, but Clint had taken a different path. Six months of voluntary domestic servitude was something of Keady’s worst nightmares, but he’d done it—cleaning the rooms at Unkinked and helping Clint with set-up and take-down on the nights he could.
It had driven them even closer to one another, and Keady had met Maddy along the way, a person whom he could call his bestie. Too bad Clint wasn’t his type. And off-limits.
“Yep.” Keady stared at his glass, his stomach rolling. “That’s why I’m here.” Sticking to Unkinked meant that his heart didn’t pitter-patter during a scene, but he didn’t end up injured or dead, either.
“Someone will come up,” said Clint, tilting his head to gesture down the bar. Keady followed his gaze, gritting his teeth when he saw who Clint was trying to point out. “I imagine Cutler will be looking for a new sub again. His last one only made it twenty-four hours.”
Keady shuddered, eyeing up the man in question. If serial killers had a look, it was Cutler’s. Even his name sounded dangerous. He was tall and lean, his face twisted in a perpetual frown and a scar over his lips that had to be from some kind of fight to the death. The thick-rimmed glasses completed his look like some sort of Clark Kent disguise.
Keady wasn’t sure if it was a coincidence that Cutler had just shown up one day without a sub or a backstory. Maybe he’d changed his name to run from the police, his hands still stained from a fresh murder. It didn’t explain why Clint vouched for him, though.
Subs rarely lasted more than one scene with him since he’d arrived, and word was that he’d been kicked out of other kink communities. But why? He couldn’t have disrespected someone’s safeword or he would have had his ass handed to him by the Dungeon Master.
The peek Keady had caught of one of his scenes had been intense, but Malone had dragged him away before he’d witnessed much more than a heavy flogging and screams.
“He looks like a goddamned serial killer,” whispered Keady, quickly averting his eyes when Cutler looked his way. A flush settled over him and his belly went tight. He could feel Cutler’s eyes on him, raking through his skin to the vulnerability underneath.
Do I like it? He couldn’t answer.
“Huh. I thought you would have been into that,” said Clint, shrugging before he turned to grab the newcomer his drink. “Think on that one.”
Bastard. Pursing his lips, Keady looked back to his Dom, frowning at what he found. Malone was still waiting patiently, his perpetual smile driving his nerves past what he could stand.
The worst part was that Malone had become a friend, which was the last thing he wanted in a relationship. A ‘friend’ couldn’t give him what he needed. No, that took someone very special.
He glanced at Cutler, ice traveling down his spine when he caught his glare. That look was a thousand promises and threats all rolled into one, with a side dish of terror. Swallowing, he grabbed his drink, rushing back to his table. He felt Cutler’s eyes on him with every step.