The last thing Daniel, a hard-working public defender, expected to see the morning after a one night stand was his hook up staring back at him from the wrong side of the law. Assigned to work his case, Daniel vows to keep things professional with Rafael but has a hard time controlling his craving for dominance, the control and the connection they shared. Rafael, a paid dominant in the Chicago underworld, has been dealing with a cop problem for far too long. Used to sex with no emotion, he’s entranced with Daniel’s submission, his innocence, and…could there be something more?

Can Daniel clear Rafael’s name, keeping him out of jail and in his life, with the odds, a cop, and the mounting evidence against them?

Excerpt

Daniel scanned them, looking for anything interesting to lift the dreary Monday, and his eyes went wide when they landed on the face of the man whose bed he had been in last night. “Oh shit,” he said too loudly, drawing the attention of the bailiff. He waved her off, muttering, “Nothing.”

“What?” Jesse hissed.

“I fucked one of our cases last night,” Daniel admitted, knowing he would get it out of him one way or another. There was no point fighting his partner’s excellent extraction skills.

“Which one?” Jesse asked, looking over his shoulder, way too amused.

He tried to nod subtly to one of the prisoners.

“You have to give me more than that.” Jesse stood up and blatantly turned around to study the men sitting in the rows behind them.

Stiffening in his seat, Daniel tried to keep his back to the man he had seen every naked inch of, as well as had his tongue buried inside of, till the early hours of the morning.

“Dark hair, six feet plus, green eyes.” He tried to speak out of the corner of his mouth so no one could read his lips.

“The one with the sleeve tattoo and the huge arms?” Jesse asked.

“Yeah,” he answered in a low, sheepish voice.

“I knew it was that one. You so have a type.” Jesse flipped back around to take his seat once more. He instantly went for the files, lifting up folders and setting the large stack right in front of him.

“What are you doing?” Daniel kept looking over his shoulder to see if the guy showed any signs of recognition.

“What’s his name?” He didn’t look up from the stack of files as he spoke. “Rafael,” he whispered as his face flushed just saying his name. “What are you doing?”

“Figuring out what your lay did,” Jesse said, positively glowing by now.

“I really hate you,” he responded, pulling at his tie and trying to loosen it.

“You’ll thank me later.” Jesse hummed, plucking out the file and flipping it open. “Oh, hot damn, you picked a good one.”

Daniel snatched the file out of his partner’s hands, his eyes going wide. Life just got a little more interesting.

All through the arraignment hearing, he found it hard to keep his mind off the previous night spent at Rafael’s apartment. They’d had an instant connection. He groaned to himself as it became increasingly hard to focus.

“Do you think he did it?”

“Who knows, but how many innocent men do we represent?”

Daniel’s stomach knotted. He didn’t want the allegations to be true. “Good point.”

With the legal trouble behind them, Daniel Caplin and Rafael Argon are ready to settle into a low key d/s relationship, but life is unrelenting, when blackmail shatters their illusion of happily ever after. Pictures from one of the Rafael’s public scenes instill fear into his new Submissive, Daniel, acting as a wedge driving the new couple apart.

The building peril in George’s community weighs heavy on his shoulders as he struggles to find the culprit while hiding his feelings for his new house guest. Jesse is torn between ending his marriage, picking up a rebound he should have left fifteen years in the past, and the dangling carrot of a possible relationship with a man. He is forced to fight for what he wants most, a leap he may be too chicken to take.

In the sequel to Legally Bound George battles to take down an unknown enemy, while watching helpless, as those he cares for most are broken beyond repair. Can Rafael and Daniel rebuild their trust after it’s broken with lies?

Excerpt

The back elevator dinged as he approached, and the doors slid back to reveal Jesse’s face. He had circles under his eyes and worry lines in his forehead. Two fingers held a garment bag over one shoulder and a duffle over his other.

“Is it still okay if I stay?” He put a smile on his lips that George knew was fake.

“But of course. Let me help you.” George approached him and tried to take the bag, but Jesse didn’t move to hand it over.

“I’ve got it.”

“Don’t be absurd. I would have a slave do it, but he’s rather tied up at the moment.”

The statement earned a chuckle out of Jesse, and he gave up the bag. Even hurt Jesse had a light in his blue eyes and his heart on his sleeve, a trait that made him wholly unique compared to the masks most wore to impress George.

“I can stay on the sofa or something if the slaves use the guest rooms.”

George laughed and turned his back to stalk down the hall. When he didn’t hear Jesse following, he cast a glance over his shoulder.

“Slaves in bed … how naive you really are, handsome.”

Jesse started after him, brow creased. “Where do they sleep then?” He caught up and followed George to the other side of the penthouse.

He realized Jesse was serious, and he laughed throatily again. “I have cages for them.”

“I love you and Daniel, but your lifestyle is fucked.”

Their world is crumbling on the King’s shoulders.

Elliot is gone.

George has failed, and his demons are threatening to swallow him whole. Jesse’s life is slipping through his fingers. He feels like he’s losing George, whom he has just gotten back. The search for Elliot is taking its toll on the pair of them, and the strain shows the cracks in their trust.

Zac is doing everything he can, but he’s been plagued with flashbacks of a life he can’t remember. Even his iron constitution must break sometime, and the search for Elliot can’t wait. Each minute could be the difference between life and death.

Can they get it together to save themselves or Elliot?

Excerpt

It was dark when he stepped out into the back entrance of the penthouse. His footsteps echoed through the halls as he walked. George should be in bed as he was generally an early riser, but Jesse half expected him to be consoling his pain with a slave.

He paused in front of the play room, swallowing hard. What if his actions had been the final straw in George moving on? What if…

It was too painful to finish the thought. He set his hand on the handle, telling himself he could face what he found inside. He turned it silently and pushed the heavy door forward. It was dark inside, only the lights of the city illuminating the toys spread over the massive wall. The door was soundproof, but now that it was open, all he heard was the light snore of a slave. He closed the door quickly and then pressed a hand into his aching chest. He stalked forward, seeing the flicker of a fire on the wall as he approached the living room.

He stepped around the corner to find George looking pensive staring into the fire, drink in hand. He paused, waiting for an invitation. One never came. George acted as though he didn’t see him. Jesse opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say. There wasn’t an apology that could even cover the pain he’d put George through.

He fell to his knees. “Forgive me,” he whispered.

George didn’t respond. Jesse fell forward pressing his forehead into the cool hardwood floor. Warm hands closed around his arms, dragging him to his feet, and he was enveloped in George’s arms. His eyes started to mist, and he couldn’t catch a full breath. It was all too much to bear. He’d left his heart when he left George, and there were no words for what it felt like to be back here. He buried his face in George’s neck and wrapped his arms around him. George kissed every spot he could reach on Jesse in their position.

It was so much more than dominant and submissive like this. Jesse’s heart ached. The pain radiated through his bones. He’d been holding off losing it for so long he hadn’t even realize how bad the pain had gotten, how numb he’d been.

Author Bio

When not staying up all night writing, J.R Gray can be found basking in the warm glow of the Miami sun, or at the gym where it’s half assumed Gray is a permanent resident. A dominant, pilot, and sword fighting enthusiast, Gray finds it hard to be in the passenger seat of any car. Gray frequently interrupts real life, including normal sleep patterns, to jot down nonsense. The bane of Gray’s existence are commas, and even though it’s been fully acknowledged they are necessary, they continue to baffle and bewilder.

If Gray wasn’t writing…well, that’s not possible. The buildup of untold stories would haunt Gray into an early grave or possibly a mental institution where the tales would end up on the walls in crayon and finger paint.

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