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?
“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.”
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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