SERIES BLAST AND REVIEW TOUR
Meet Hunter Dane and Camden Snow
Title: On His Knees (#1 Cam & Hunter 4Ever)
Author: Adira August
Length: 13k words/76 Kindle pages
Genres: Contemporary gay, BDSM, erotica
Sometimes it’s the cop who needs to hit the floor…
As a homicide cop, every blood-soaked crime scene settled in my bones and snaked around my spine. There was only one way to exorcise the images from my soul …
Inside the club, I stopped to scan the room. He was here, Camden Snow. A Norse sex god in the guise of unpretentious youth. Only his ice-blue eyes gave evidence of the Dom who took whomever he wished, whatever way he wanted, with a look and a nod. Merciless.
Cam found me watching him and fixed me with his arctic gaze. This time, I didn’t walk away. He cocked an eyebrow. Well?
The last thing I needed was mercy.
I dropped to my knees.
A frank exploration of the D/s dynamic between two powerful men. Consensual. Adult. Intense.
Cam massaged Hunt’s ring, around and around, pressed in the center, went back to massage. “I’m going to prepare you because I’m going to shove my cock into you later, Hunter. And you really are tight. Rumor is you’re a virgin.”
With a few drops of oil, he lubricated the wooden butt plug. The teardrop-shaped top, shiny and very smooth, became almost too slippery to hold. Cam was going to fuck Hunter until he screamed, as was necessary, but he didn’t want to injure him when he did. The plug would serve to stretch him, as well as be a constant reminder of his helplessness.
Every strike across his ass would move the plug, massaging, stimulating, opening him. Cam’s dick jerked hard at the thought.
He spread Hunter’s cheeks. A low choking sound came from Hunter, but he submitted immediately when he felt the nose of the plug in the center of his hole and Cam spun the slick, cool surface against him.
He inserted it slowly, Hunt groaning a soft oh, God at the widest point. Pausing there, Cam turned the plug in place, rocking it slightly, knowing this sub needed time to fully experience his degradation and powerlessness.
A series of small, muffled sounds testified to Hunt’s mortification and arousal, suffering and need. When Hunter quieted and his body went fully slack in surrender, Cam slipped the plug all the way in. Hunter’s sphincter contracted around the wide stem.
A muffled moan – Cam smiled knowing Hunter had just realized how open he would remain. Good. The sound, the squirm, the sight of the big man laid out before him – Cam’s fist closed around his own fiery cock and squeezed hard. But only for a moment. He was going to need all his energy, and the drive that came from frustration.
Uncurling his fingers from the handle that nestled between Hunter’s full round buttocks, Cam massaged and squeezed him over the plug handle. Satisfied Hunt would remain pliant, Cam picked up the oil.
It was time to break Hunter Dane.
Title: Matchstick Men: Hunter Dane Investigation 1
(Book 2 of 3 in the HuntandCan4ever series)
Author: Adira August
Genre/s: Police Procedural, Murder Mystery, Contemporary Gay Erotica, BDSM
Length: 48k words/ 274 pages
Congratulations to Adira August on her nomination in this year’s
Goodreads M/M Romance Best BDSM category.
SEX, GAMES & MURDER Want to play?
It was munch night at the most elite underground BDSM club in the Rockies. Relaxed and informal, highlighted by the weekly Matchstick Challenge game. Detective Sergeant Hunter Dane, reigning champion, looked forward to a relaxing evening to start his 3 days off. A few beers on the deck. An interlude with a sweet sub. Stumping a challenger with a new puzzle. Home early for a decent night’s sleep.
Some people are SO deadly serious about their games.
Now Hunt has a fresh body and a new puzzle to solve in twenty-four hours if he wants to find a killer.
A 48k police procedural with a liberal dose of M/M hotness. Which means our fave full-metal Dom shows up to collect on Hunter’s offer of his … coffer. So to speak.
There are puzzles for the reader and mysteries to be solved. Based on characters introduced in the short story On His Knees.
Cam was quiet for a long time, tracing the shape of my pec with his finger. It made me feel restless. “Are you making an assumption?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I’m just stating the probabilities. I’ll know more after I talk to Chez and Sherrilynne later.” He wriggled around and I shifted uncomfortably. “You okay?”
He tilted his head back to get a better view of me. “The windows are tinted.”
“I – what?”
“The seats totally recline.”
“Cam,” I said. Sternly, I thought.
“You’re hard,” he said wriggling again. His eyes were big, the arctic blue giving way to black pupil.
He was being ridiculous. “That’s just physiology. I’m working.”
He reached for the lever and my seat went almost completely flat. “You’re at lunch.”
“I don’t have time,” I felt my voice tighten.
“Five minutes, tops,” he said. “It’ll just feel a lot longer.
Damn kid …
He braced himself against the door, took me under the arms and shoved the top of me onto the back seat.
I heard him lower my zipper and felt the rush of cold air against over my erection before I felt his hand.
“Cam – ”
He rose up over me, bracing himself on his hands on either side of the seat. He gave me a lopsided grin and a hard stare.
“You have something to say, sub?”
Sonuvabitch! My cock jerked and throbbed.
He lowered his lips to my ear, his warm breath heating the blood rushing to my gut. “You’re a slut at heart, you know.”
He slid down between my legs. Insinuating his fingers through the flap in my briefs, he freed me.
“Tell you what,” he said, eyes glinting. “If you lie very still and don’t make any noise, I’ll think about letting you come, this time.”
He was referring to last Friday, when he tortured me with his mouth just before I left the club and didn’t get me off. I had to finish myself in the car in the sub-basement of police headquarters. I couldn’t walk, otherwise.
“Put your hands behind your head so I can see your face. I love watching you suffer.” He smiled and touched my slit gently with a fingertip.
I swallowed my groan and complied. The action lifted and opened my leather jacket. He could see the Colt in the shoulder holster. He licked his lips.
“If you come before I tell you, if you come in my mouth, you will present yourself to me tonight for discipline. Do you understand?”
I felt precum gush. He slipped a thumb over my cockhead. Spreading it. Bastard. “Yes, Cam.”
He lowered his wet, hot mouth onto me. And then there were no cars in the drive-thru or pulling into parking spaces. No people or voices or murders to be solved. There was just Cam and the mystery of his tongue and lips and hands and teeth. His throat.
His eyes glittered with malicious delight, fixed on my pleading ones as his mouth and fingers worked me over. I watched him do it because he required me to. He watched me watching him because it excited him. In less than a minute, I was desperate for restraint. For a gag. For release.
And he was just getting started.
Cam looked out the window, leaving me to myself while I drove us through the quiet dark of the Capitol Hill streets. I wondered why this killer wasn’t perfectly obvious to me. I wondered if it was impossible for me to see them, being so close that everything blurred at the edges and melded together.
“Did anyone ever tell you, you think too much?” Cam asked.
“Did anyone ever not?”
“Take the next alley,” he told me.
“You need to stop thinking.”
“Cam,” I put a warning in my voice. “There’s not much time-”
The bastard grabbed the wheel and cranked it hard right.
I lifted my foot off the gas, or tried to. He had his left hand on my thigh just above my knee, digging in, pressing down.
“Stop it, goddamn it!”
“Pull into that parking lot.”
“Alright! Just let go, for Christ’s sake!”
He released me instantly and sat back. I managed to miss the light pole and the dumpster and slide into a parking space behind a converted Victorian housing psychologists’ offices. An appropriate place to stop when riding with a no limits lunatic.
The offices were dark, now, but the mosquito bulb over the back door and the security lights at the rear of the building illuminated the lot. And the car’s interior. Anyone walking by could see us. If they saw us in flagrante delicto, they’d call the cops.
Cam had gone too far. I shut off the engine but before I could turn and bust his ass, his fingers found my seat belt release and he launched himself up and over the console into my space, his big hands slid down my arms toward my wrists. I twisted sideways and we wrestled for control of my hands.
I was at a distinct disadvantage under the steering wheel. He bent me toward him and my head was on his thigh.
“Stop it, Cam! Not now, we are not playing!”
He fell back into his seat, taking me with him and manacled me with one hand. But we were sweaty from the struggle and I managed to break his grip, freeing my hands.
He didn’t try to regain them. He simply raised himself and laid his body over mine. My head pressed into his crotch, his weight forced me onto the hard lump of the console.
“You can always safeword you know,” he said. I heard the challenge. The taunting. He was having fun.
“Fuck you,” I grunted underneath him.
I’d never safe worded in my life. Not to “red,” anyway. “Yellow” a few times when I had a cramp or was on call and my cell went off with a dispatch tone.
Safewording might have been an option for me now, if his power and the idea of being at his mercy, of which he possessed none, hadn’t given me a blazing erection.
He’d been betting I wouldn’t go there—confident I wouldn’t safeword. He really was good at this.
I felt his hand at my belt in back. Handcuffs. A thrill of fear and excitement made me choke on air. I struggled again, just enough to feel my inability to stop him from doing exactly what he intended. Jesus, I was hard, weeping against my thigh, trapped by the elastic briefs.
My legs were twisted and caught under the steering wheel. His body locked my right arm against the seatback. He deftly handcuffed my left wrist and calmly found my right and ratcheted the other cuff around it.
This was not the infamous Dom of the club, calculatedly giving me what I needed. Not the sexual virtuoso of last night, expertly bringing me everything I never knew I wanted. Pleasures I never thought existed.
This was the sadist in his element. Loving what he did to me because of what it did for him.
Then, suddenly, I knew who the killer was.
Title: Dancing Men: Hunter Dane Investigation 2
(Book 3 of 3—and counting—in the HuntandCam4ever series)
Author: Adira August
Genre/s: Police Procedural, Murder Mystery, Gay erotica, BDSM
Length: 70k words/385 pages
You have to bury the past, or the past will bury you.
An ancient burial urn, empty for millennia, is suddenly not so empty.
When Detective Lieutenant Hunter Dane probes the murder at Natural History Museum, it’s his own past that haunts him. To solve the complex case, Hunter needs the talents of Camden Snow, the brilliant, beautiful, “no limits” Dom who’d helped him unravel a very peculiar, and very personal, murder.
But Cam’s ready to kill Hunt, himself! Their high-intensity D/s relationship that began in a playroom, ended in an emergency room.
“If you want to be with me, you’ll have to do more make some big re-entry gesture,” Cam said. “That’s just more drama. You’ll have to work for this, Hunter.”
“All right. What work would that be?” Hunter asked, eager to perform any penance Cam gave him.
“You’re the champion puzzle-solver and ace detective. Unravel a mystery.”
Hunter’s brows pulled together. “What mystery?”
For adults who love some mystery with their men. A 70k police procedural with a liberal dose of M/M heat. The 2nd of the Hunter Dane Investigations. Matchstick Men, their 1st case, also available on Amazon. Their next case, Psychic Men, will be out in spring of 2018
“You are familiar with the Tamil burial jars case I’m hearing?” the judge asked as she led him into her chambers.
“Enough to know the case exists,” he said, putting his professional face on. Why would they need a homicide investigator for an international property dispute? “I should mention I’m acquainted with Doctor St Clair who was appointed head of the research team.”
“I see,” she said, taking her chair but not inviting him to sit. “Do I have to go over confidentiality? I was informed with you it wouldn’t be necessary.”
“It isn’t,” he said.
“Good.” She sat forward and clasped her hands on the desk. “Expert testimony the Court finds to be compelling establishes the impossibility of determining the geographic origin of the jars or when they were created and sealed without extensive testing. There will be a problem of international relations if I award the urns to the Denver museum and later testing reveals clearly that the plaintiff did have standing.”
Hunter nodded. The judge cocked a skeptical eyebrow at him. “You understand the issue?”
“It will look as if we must have known all along and used a technicality in the law to keep the jars here. I imagine they have more than scientific value?” he said.
A slow and very small smile appeared. “Have a seat,” she told him. He did.
“At my request, Doctor St Clare sent a doctoral fellow to take air samples from the jars to determine how long ago they were sealed. That was ten days ago. I received the results on Friday. So did the attorneys. After which, I issued a gag order.”
Hunter waited for her to get to the point.
“I’m curious, detective, what you would guess the tests showed?”
“At least one of the air samples had a much higher level of carbon dioxide than would be present when the jars were made. And traces of methane, ammonia, hydrogen sulphide and nitrogen. Decomp gases.”
Her Honor nodded.
“There’s flesh rotting in one of those jars and it wasn’t put there a thousand years ago,” Hunter said.
Before Hunter could react, Cam bent him back over the hard arm of the chair and glared fiercely into his face.
“Do you know how much I want you, you son of a bitch? How much I want you naked in my bed with my cock so far up your ass you can taste my cum in your mouth?”
Cam pulled him up and shoved him at his chair. “I want to beat you with a fucking belt until you bleed.”
Hunt waited silently for Cam to make a choice. Life that included Hunter, or a future entirely without him.
“According to you,” Cam went on, “You don’t attach to anyone. Ever. But we spent a night together and we both attached and I don’t want to hear any bullshit about it.”
Cam waited, eyes bright with challenge in his wrath.
Hunter wisely kept all bullshit to himself.
Cam was leaning back against the sink counter. I approached him slowly, reaching for his top shirt button. “I’m going to give you a sensuous bathing. A Dom I know gave me one, recently,” I teased lightly.
His hand closed over mine, gripping tightly. This close, he had to look up a little to meet my eyes. At an even six feet, he was a couple inches shorter than I was.
But where I was rangy, Cam was solid muscle, wide at the shoulders, deep in the chest. A solid, strong man who exuded power and danger. He made me feel like it was a struggle to stay on my feet. He made me long to let go.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I never get to just touch you, the way you do me. Look at you as much as I want. Feel you,” I said. “I need you, tonight, Cam.”
“You’re a switch. You want to dominate me, Hunter?”
I put a hand out slowly and laid my palm on his chest. “I want to make us feel good, Cam. I do switch, but—not with you. How about maybe, for a little while, we both get stuck in neutral?”
He felt so good to me, warm and firm, his heart tripping under my palm. I watched my hand slide up his shirtfront until the tips of my fingers found the top of his clavicle. I followed it, to the center notch, and back to his shoulder. Back in to slide up his trapezius, my thumb in the hollow place, massaging lightly. He was warm. So warm. Hard and smooth. He was a revelation to me.
I used Doms for pain and humiliation, to strip me down to raw feelings. Until Cam. No one used Cam. I never knew men felt good like this.
“I want to touch you,” I said, hardly recognizing my own voice, hoarse and thick. He was breathing harder, his jeans’ front bulging. I couldn’t help it. I laid my hand over the warm fullness. My thumb along his thickening shaft, fingers over his balls, just holding him. My God, he feels good.
He didn’t say no.
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About the Author
TYPOS ARE MY TRADEMEARK
I write mostly BDSM EROTICA because I love exploring the power dynamics in terms of the love relationships. The work is explicit. It’s always consensual. If you have triggers about certain kinds of practices, use discretion. I do not make kink lists for my titles.
I went to school interminably, it seemed like. I studied anthropology and paleontology and genetics and literature and theology and ancient Greek. I chased down bad guys, raised children, climbed mountains, played poker, searched for dinosaurs and have had a rather large number of lovers. (I’m not giving up any numbers because TMI) Through it all, I wrote.
No wonder I’m so tired.
You can read all my books stand-alone. There’s plenty of information about what happened previously in Hunt and Cam’s story for you to easily follow their relationship arc. The mysteries are always complete within the stories.
BUT if you’re a romance lover, the relationship story is not a romance. It is a love story. But it’s also the story of two independent Alpha males: one gay and one bisexual, one Dom and one switch with a preference for BDSM. And they aren’t simple, take it from someone who shares headspace with them.
I love these guys. They surprise me and challenge me and break my heart, sometimes. They inspire me.
(Just some FYI for the new readers. Hi. Welcome.)
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