Pounding music and writhing bodies fill the dance floor at Night Moves. Brothers Jordan and Allen share everything, and are part of a very small, very elite group of friends. What do they have in common? More money, power, and connections than most people can even fathom. These young men consider themselves above the law. Spoilt, powerful, and totally amoral, they use men without a thought for the consequences of their actions. Tonight the brothers have their sights set on a sexy redhead -- they're determined to have him in their bed!
Chaus is an ancient vampire as cold as his deadly kiss. Driven by a taste for kink, he's searched for centuries to find someone as debauched and sinful as he is, only to be continuously disappointed by humans and nonhumans alike. One desire drives him: a pet to call his mate that he can torture and pleasure with his lethal desires. His hunt has brought him to Night Moves, and he's on the prowl.
Jordan and Allen are out for fun, and they place a bet on a deadly game. But they're playing with a predator -- and a dark, hidden secret that the brothers possess will be the catalyst that brings Fate down on them. The Bad Boys Club has once again picked the wrong target to play with.
Praise for Into the Darkness
"The intensity of erotic feelings Ms. Church put into this short story is amazing! So hot, so wrong, so sexy, so taboo and yet, OMG, just sooo right."
-- 4 Kisses from Jerry, Top 2 Bottom Reviews
Razor's Edge: Into the Darkness
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Copyright ©2013 M.A. Church
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Jordan leaned on the railing, looking down at the wiggling mass below him. Lights flashed and music thumped as bodies writhed on the dance floor of Night Moves, a trendy upscale bar. The floor was crowded. It was Friday night, after all, and time to celebrate. "Do you see him, Allen?"
"No, I lost... wait. There he is. Yeah, I got him now. Damn, can we pick 'em or what? Fuck, Jordan, I can't wait to see him on his knees with my cock buried in his ass while he sucks you."
Jordan scanned the crowd down on the dance floor until he found their prey. There he was. Poor Allen. He might want the guy, but he was just going to have to wait. Jordan planned on having that redhead's ass first. He was, after all, the older brother.
Jordan's smile faded. He'd hoped this one would be different. Over the last several months the hunt he and Allen had taken part in had become... boring.
He was bored. God, how ludicrous was that? He got all the ass he wanted, and still he was bored.
Maybe he was getting jaded, but the thrill was fading. The guys he and Allen picked up were all the same. They fell into their beds with hardly a whimper, got fucked, then went home. He wanted... Jordan exhaled silently. He didn't know what he wanted. But he damn sure knew this lifestyle was getting old. It would be... nice... if he could find someone who fit his needs; someone who could stand on his own as easily as he did, but would give up control when he demanded. That was his idea of the perfect ideal man... right?
"So?" Allen nudged him, interrupting his thoughts.
The roving lights of the club wandered over their choice, his red hair shining for just that moment, and Jordan's cock hardened. Both he and his brother had a thing for redheads. A smirk tilted his lips as he watched their prey's body grind on the dance floor. He sincerely hoped their guy had freckles. He loved tracing those sexy little brown dots with his tongue while their chosen piece of ass cried out in pleasure.
Their friends, Hugh and Kain, didn't get their fascination with gingers. They didn't understand how well that pale skin showed marks... like those from his hand slapping down on an upturned ass.
"So... what?" Jordan so enjoyed winding his brother up. He rested his elbows on the railing. For VIP's, the club had a decadent, kinky side. The second level was members only, and membership was awarded on the basis of money, power, and prestige. The second level was where other jaded predators like he and his friends roamed. The bottom level -- the dance floor -- was where the fresh meat was displayed. After all, every predator needed prey.
"Don't start that shit with me, Jordan. I'm not in the mood for games tonight," Allen hissed. "We've scored once today, and I'm ready to celebrate."
"Really? But isn't that what this is? A game?"
"Oh damn, you're in a mood, aren't you?"
Jordan tracked the pretty little redhead's movements. The guy didn't look to be very tall, thank God, and had wavy, shoulder length deep red hair. Both he and Allen liked their bottoms to be slightly smaller than they were, and slender. This guy appeared to be perfect. It was hard to tell with his clothes on, but their prey moved with a grace that called to him, and he was sure it called to Allen, too. The guy had a swimmer's build -- long and sleek. He had to be in pretty good shape; he'd been dancing nonstop for some time.
Jordan stood a few inches over six feet, and Allen was an inch under him. They were both muscular but without the bulk that signified serious body builders. They both had excellent tone and were ripped in all the right places. Neither of them had much hair on their bodies, and kept what little they had on a tight rein. Control was the name of their game.