Prism Book Alliance would like to thank Nya Rawlyns for taking the time to talk with us today.
Title: Jerking Iron
Author: Nya Rawlyns
Publisher: Self Published
Genre/Sub-Genre: Contemporary, M/M Romance
With his business empire under fire and ready to collapse, Kane and his partners turn to unlikely sources for help.
Nick Lopez is a wounded warrior, an undercover major crimes cop caught in the crossfire when he brokers a deal between competing rival Miami crime families. When his best friend, David Black, calls him for advice, Nick sees it as an omen. Sometimes it’s better to get out of Dodge and live, so he quits the force and heads north.
Jace McClune has seen and done too much as a vice cop. His last undercover assignment was his undoing, leaving him with an intervention from the department brass, but no resolution. Thomas Kane has friends in high places and when he hints the mob’s fingerprints are all over the attempts to take over his business, the precinct brass see this as a good way for Jace to get his head on straight with a babysitting job.
Jace and Nick pair up for a simple sting operation, but they soon discover that under the layers of betrayal and lies runs the threat of a new operation—one that takes the skin trade to new levels of perversion. Neither man is prepared for the mutual attraction that simmers to a rolling boil as it becomes clear that the only way they can cut to the truth is to allow Jace to sink once more into the dangerous underbelly of the city.
They’re about to find out why a man you can’t break is a man worth breaking…
A High Stakes Game:
Unlike the first two books in the Bad Boyfriends series (Curling Iron and Pumping Iron), Jerking Iron takes on a more serious tone when the stakes get raised to atmospheric levels. When it was just Kane’s ex, Marshall Richards, poaching on the agency’s escort talent and clients, it was annoying and worrisome; but it soon becomes apparent that Kane and his people are way out of their depth with possible mob involvement in the takeover attempts.
Unfortunately, the agency does not exactly operate under the guise of transparency, so they call in outside assistance to help them ferret out what’s really going on. Enter Jace McClune, an outed undercover cop with a history of his own personal vices that makes him the ideal candidate to offer advice, and Nick Lopez, ex-Miami PD with a background in major crimes and an up-close-and-personal relationship with the Russian Mafiya and the skin trade.
The plan Kane and company suggest doesn’t sit well with either Jace or Nick. Mike Douglas, Kane’s partner and the muscle behind the operation, says to Nick Lopez:
“So basically what we need is for one of you to be Marshall’s next acquisition from Bad Boyfriends.”
McClune and I turned to stare at each other, then at Mike Douglas. David stood up and moved to sit next to the man who looked like he chewed engine blocks for breakfast. His eyes overly bright, David said, “Of course, Kane will provide all the resources at the agency’s disposal to train whichever one of one is most suited.”
I muttered, “Of course,” while McClune spit out, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Douglas ignored the outburst and continued, “We’ll need to assess both of you carefully to see which one can carry this off convincingly. Marshall won’t move unless he is absolutely convinced he is getting cream of the crop. That’s not going to be easy.” He nodded in David’s direction. Apparently they were both on the same page.
After turning the idea over a few times, I suggested, “This might not be as hard as you think.”
McClune scraped the chair legs on the linoleum, turning to face me, his eyes gone hard and flat. There was something in his expression that catapulted beyond the normal wariness that went with the territory.
Jace McClune looks to atone for a botched undercover job. Nick Lopez is on the run from both the Bratva and the Bolivian cartel. Both are damaged, both are wounded warriors, and neither man has any intention of getting involved with anyone…
Except, sometimes fate has other ideas. After being charged with coming up with a way forward, Jace and Nick take a minute to ruminate on what they’ve learned. Jace takes that time to examine his new partner…
Nick Lopez was temptation on a stick and the last thing I needed in my life right now. In fact, make that never. It was in my best interests to back away from entanglements and figure a few things out before I opened up to anyone again.
Lopez looked down on me, a grin tickling the corners of his mouth. It was a nice mouth, pouty full, outlined with deep grooves, probably from fatigue, but not completely. The man had a few skeletons in his closet. You could see it in his eyes mostly—flat, dark to the point of black. Cop eyes. Eyes that gave nothing away. The man’s soul wasn’t there. That’s how I knew he had secrets. His eyes looked like mine when I got up the guts to look at myself in a mirror.
I didn’t do that often. The mirror didn’t lie, and it told stories, the kind of scary shit you used to threaten kids who misbehaved. Beware of the boogey man.
Nicolas Lopez and me … we were those boogey men. Damaged. Sent out to pasture, or given a time out in a corner. Or worse yet, handed over to a bunch of civilians in a grudge match with a competitor looking to improve the bottom line.
And sometimes taking a hand seals the deal, whether we want it to or not…
There was an abrupt flash of kindness in the man’s eyes and a hitch to his shoulders that indicated he recognized the masquerade. I offered a hand to help him up. He took it.
Mistake. Big fucking mistake. It was like we’d bonded with super glue, skin-to-muscle-to-bone. Left hand to right. Holding hands. Fingers entwined.
His thumb did a sweep on the heel on my hand, then along the wrist, circling it, the movement delicate, almost like it was in my imagination, but it wasn’t. We both stared at those hands, hands that weren’t his or mine. Hands that were ours, and … holy hell, that did not compute.
Stepping down, he tugged at my arm. I followed, though my body screamed no, my head pounded out a rhythm of duck and run, and my cock did a happy dance in my jeans. It was the ultimate conflict, yes, no, maybe, a St. Vitus jig with me hopping to some cosmic force.
I’d felt like a marionette enough times in my life to know when it was time to take back control. The last time I’d lost it, lost the ability to say no, to focus and come to grips with temptation, was what had led me to this stairway of shame and a big man, a thug of a man, feeling me up.
If I’d known then what I knew now… I hadn’t just ventured out of the closet. I’d smashed the damn door into kindling. I should have put a mile between me and Nick Lopez from the get-go. Or better yet, I should have said adios and taken my badge and service revolver and told His Lordship, Lt. Homophobe, to stick it up his virgin ass.
I’d even provide the lube.
Jace and Nick dance around their attraction, testing each other, pushing buttons. When Jace retreats to his own room to research intel obtained from a friend in the department, Nick barges in…
I was so busy staring at the lighted screen in the dark bedroom, I never heard him come in, never sensed him towering over me, reaching for the phone and clicking it off, throwing us into darkness, and my lust into full alert.
He growled, “You said it could wait until morning.”
“Did you lie about wanting to fuck?”
“What is this … truth or dare? Twenty questions … what?”
“Answer the question.”
I swallowed at the tone of voice. It’d gone hard, commanding, turning my innards to goo. I murmured, “No. I mean … yes.”
“Which is it, Jace? Yes you lied, or yes you want to fuck.”
Wriggling got me nowhere. He had me pinned with his massive thighs, his mouth millimeters from mine, his breath hot enough to melt the skin off my bones. The lashes and welts on my back tingled as he shifted my body under his weight, my skin slipping against the quilt, setting up a sweet ache that flared along my spine.
Ache morphed to pain and I tensed, the memory of that night exploding behind my eyelids. I sucked air and fumbled for a safeword, any word. I didn’t have to ask, he offered.
“I won’t ever hurt you, Jace. Just tell me to stop and I will.”
He rolled, pulling me on top of him, freeing my arms, letting me make the final decision. His erection was hard and thick and pressing at the crack, as my ass burned with anticipation.
I reached to grab the bag, dumping the contents on the nightstand. I tossed him a package of condoms. “Here, open this. I got the jumbo size. Hope it fits.”
“You put a lot of pressure on a fellow, McClune.”
“It’s for me, asshole. I’m driving tonight.”
He laughed, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. God, how I loved to listen to him. His voice was a basso profundo—the deepest of deep—and the accent lilted his words, like he was making music every time he spoke.
By the time he’d seen to the preliminaries I was in a sweat, rubbing against his cock from pucker to balls and back, the sensation driving me nuts. When he rolled the condom on my cock, I nearly lost it.
He said, “Go slow. It’s been a long time.”
Lubing my fingers, I eased back to reach the tight ring of muscle, inserting a finger then two. He pulled his legs up to his chest, his flesh quivering, either from my stroking and stretching, or from the fact he was relinquishing control to a sub, a sub with injuries he didn’t inflict.
When I hit just the right spot, he jerked and hissed, “Oh, fuck, right there.” I kept teasing him, inserting three fingers and rubbing him until he howled, “Oh sweet Jesus, I’m not going to last,” and pumped his own cock hard.
I eased in, giving him time to adjust, but he wasn’t having any of it. With an upward thrust he impaled my cock to the hilt, rocking me into the valley between his legs. He pulled me into a brutal kiss, lips and teeth and tongue ravaging my mouth, sucking all the air from my body until I went lightheaded and giddy with the feel of my cock buried so deep inside him, the heat igniting me into a frenzy.
Pulling away from his demanding mouth, I rocked back and braced my hands on his thighs, giving myself leverage as I pummeled him hard, balls to ass, the sound of skin slapping skin, his moans, the sweat pouring off me in a waterfall of lust…
Together we pumped his cock in rhythm with my thrusts. When the orgasm hit, it was so sudden it took me by surprise, blowing through me like a bullet train, spine to ass to balls. As the spasms eased, I pumped his cock once, twice, and he came on a bellow as thick ropes of cum coated his belly and chest.
I collapsed on him as he wrapped his legs around me, holding me fast, cum and sweat gluing us together. He had his chin on the top of my head, our chests in a frantic rise and fall as we sucked air and waited for our heartbeats to slow.
His fingers found the pattern on my back, tracing the ridges and valleys. He had questions. I didn’t blame him for that. If the tables had been turned, I would be the same.
He took a deep breath, and I prepared myself to say no, I can’t talk about it, not this, never this.
Instead Nick said, “I will never hurt what’s mine.”
About the Author:
Nya Rawlyns is the pseudonym of a writer who cut her teeth on sports-themed romantic comedy before finding her true calling in the wilderness areas (both the urban jungle s and true mountain vistas) she has visited but calls “home” in that place that counts the most: the heart. She writes M/M erotic romance because her good friends deserve to have their amazing stories told.
She has lived in the country and on a sailboat on the Chesapeake Bay, earned more than 1000 miles in competitive trail and endurance racing, and taught Political Science to unwilling freshmen.
When she isn’t tending to her garden or the horses, the cats, or three pervert parakeets, she can be found day dreaming and listening to the voices in her head.
Website: Romancing Words
Face Book: https://www.facebook.com/NyaRawlyns
I have a number of paperbacks, most of which are signed, to giveaway. Over the between now (11 Mar 2017) and 31 Mar 2017, every comment on the blog (this post and all other new posts), will be entered to win 1 of these paperbacks. There are also some misc swag items, so there will be a few packs of these to give away as well.
Thank you so much for your support over the last 4 years. Prism will be closing its doors on 1 April 2017. All content will remain available, but no new content will appear after 31 Mar 2017. As such all request forms have been turned off. Again Thank you,
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