BDSM Mega Boxed Set

by Anita Lawless, C. J. Sneere, Roxxy Meyer

  Kit relished the times he could storm into Liam’s office and tell him Laney was here and she was out for his blood. After three years working as the personal assistant to this uber-rich, uber-arrogant werewolf, Kit often wondered why he stayed and put up with Liam’s bullshit. The supernatural liked to play games with Kit, goad him into battles. But Kit was the best damn personal assistant Liam ever had, and he knew this was why he never got fired, despite his mouthy comebacks to Wolfgang Music’s head producer. Liam hated to be told he was wrong, and he hated the word no. Kit wasn’t afraid to give him liberal doses of both.

  He didn’t bother to knock. He just walked right in. “Laney’s here, and she’s not—”

  His words faltered as loud moans drifted from the office and his gaze fell on a hot blond guy bent over Liam’s desk. His ass was bare and tilted up for all the world to see. An equally bare-assed Liam pounded away at him, grunting with each thrust.

  “What the hell, Harrison?” Liam growled when he finally noticed Kit. “Don’t you ever knock?”

  Laney stormed past Kit before he could deliver a witty reply. “Briggs, we need to talk about your bad habit of going over budget.” She completely ignored the sinewy blond poster boy who scurried away from the desk, yanking up his pants as he retreated toward the door. It wasn’t the first time she and Kit had caught Liam in this position. “Seven thousand dollars? Really?”

  Liam casually redressed and walked behind his desk. “What? I racked up a higher price tag than that on the Fiona Twins album. I thought you’d be happy. I kept it under 10 grand.”

  She rolled her eyes and plunked down in a chair opposite. “This has to stop. I don’t care if your daddy owns this company, do you know how deeply in the red we are?”

  Liam smoothed the wrinkles out of his shiny tailored suit. He glared in Kit’s direction. “Don’t you have coffee to make or something?”

  Kit smirked. He knew how much Liam hated it when he eavesdropped on these meetings. There was nothing the Briggs heir hated more than a public dressing down. “I’ll go show your boy toy the way out.”

  But the guy had already left the building. Kit was glad. He didn’t want to deal with some faux rock star right about now. He had enough paperwork to do on Liam’s behalf to keep him busy all afternoon.

  He shook his head as he settled behind his desk once more. Recently, he and Liam had exchanged words over the producer’s latest project. Briggs thought he could sell a manufactured garage rock band to the masses. Kit told him he was nuts. This wasn’t the boy band fan scene. Garage rock was more about raw talent with a guitar and voice than flashy dance moves and killer looks. He told Liam the public would never buy it. “You can’t sell bubble gum to a meat and potatoes crowd,” he’d said.

  Liam just laughed it off. Briggs didn’t listen to constructive criticism. He reminded Kit that he was nothing more than a personal assistant.

  “There are tons of bands on Youtube and MusicFriend you should be checking out,” Kit said. “Real garage rock bands looking for a chance. If you’re looking for another The Black Keys, you should sign one of them. I can send you a list.”

  Liam dismissed him. He thought he could sell baby faced boys with high voices to a raw and loud rock n roll crowd.

  “You can’t pawn off One Direction clones to these people. They’ll smell your bullshit.” Kit wasn’t about to give up, being a huge garage rock fan himself. “And when it gets out you manufactured them, rather than discovering them, sales will drop like dead flies.”

  But Liam continued with the project, and Kit had a hunch a lot of it hinged on the fact Briggs was making his way through the pretty boy roster that auditioned. In his opinion, Liam had lost his nose for talent and the music industry. He needed less yes men and more people with a fresh approach.

  He needed someone like Kit. But Kit knew Liam was aware of that. How many binds had Kit bailed the producer’s ass out of? Too many to count. Late paperwork? Kit took care of it. Missed meetings with big clients? Kit covered up for him. It was why he stayed, despite not getting the respect he deserved. Though he and Liam weren’t best friends, he loved his job, loved music, and he didn’t want to see the company go down the crapper. He went above and beyond his job as Briggs’ personal assistant. A failed musician himself, this was Kit’s connection to a world he could never directly be a part of, and he didn’t want to lose it. Sure, he could apply with other recording companies, but he didn’t want to leave Laney behind to battle Liam’s whims either.

  And, yeah, Liam Briggs was easy on the eyes. But he was hard as hell on the nerves.

  Half an hour later, Laney stomped out of Liam’s office. She still looked annoyed, but her anger seemed to have cooled somewhat.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him.” She shook her head as she walked over to Kit’s desk. “This is what happens when you hire family. I wish old man Wolfgang would fire him.”

  “Go play some racquetball. Pretend the ball is Liam’s head.”

  “I’ll do that.” As she walked toward the elevator, she spoke over her shoulder. “Lunch tomorrow? I could really use a bitch session.”

  “You know it.”

  After the elevator doors closed behind her, Kit made his way back into Liam’s office.

  “Got some papers for you to sign.” He plunked them down on Liam’s desk.

  His boss barely looked up as he grunted.

  “That your new lead singer for the garage rock band?” Kit referenced the pretty boy who’d fled the office earlier.

  Now Liam made eye contact. He wore a sideways smirk across those full lips. His sex appeal meter went up to devastating. Thankfully, Kit was immune.

  “Yeah. What did you think?”

  Kit shook his head, rolled his eyes. “Too pretty. Can he actually sing?”

  A disgruntled frown soured Liam’s good looks. “Nothing Pro Tools can’t fix.”

  “Sure. Still say you’re gonna lose big time on this.”

  Ignoring the papers Kit pushed in front of him, Liam stood and walked around the desk. He stopped mere inches from Kit. The cuff of his ridiculously expensive suit brushed across Kit’s wrist. Sensations he chose to disregard skittered up his arm.

  “If you’re so worried about our profits dropping, you should try harder to convince me.” Liam’s hand curled around Kit’s cock and balls and he squeezed.

  Kit pushed him back and put distance between them. He’d lost count of how many inappropriate maneuvers Liam had pulled on him over the years. If he had a dollar for every sexual harassment suit he could’ve filled, he’d be retired in Jamaica by now.

  Liam just laughed at his rebuff. “Care to make a bet?”

  Kit crossed his arms over his chest. A clear ‘keep your distance’ indication. “About your pseudo garage rock band? What’d you have in mind?”

  “Give me six months to prove you wrong. If I win, you fuck me. I fuck you. All night long.”

  Kit kept up an unaffected façade. His boss was highly fuckable. If he had to suffer a one night stand with this insufferable werewolf, he’d get through it. He might even enjoy it.

  But Kit knew he wouldn’t lose. “What if I win?”

  More smug laughter from Liam. He turned away from Kit. His leather belt jingled and he dropped his pants, shimmied his underwear to his knees. Then he bent over the desk and spread his legs, jutting his sculpted bottom in the air and exposing his large balls and thick, curved cock.

  “If you win, you get to spank me. Publicly. Right in front of the whole Wolfgang Music staff.” He wiggled his ass.

  Kit snorted. “Not much of a prize.”

  “And you get a $100,000 bonus.”

  Kit wasn’t poor. His job paid very well, but his mom could certainly use some extra cash. He could split the bonus with her, send half home. Ever since his dad died, Mom grew happier and healthier. She went out more. Made new friends. But the PTSD dad’s abuse left her with meant she needed therapy to heal, medication, and she would never w
ork again. It was struggle enough for her to even get to the level of socialization she was at now. Trusting people didn’t come easy, and crowded environments played havoc on her disorder. They amped up her damaged flight or fight response.

  “Deal,” he said, sticking out a hand for Liam to shake.

  Liam wiggled his ass again. “Let’s seal it with a spank.”

  “You’re a fucking sleaze.”

  “Come on. I’m giving you the opportunity of a lifetime here. Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted to do this.”

  Fine, Kit thought. I’ll make it good. He pulled his hand back and channeled all his power down his arm. His palm hit Liam’s ass with a healthy smack that jiggled the cheek and made it bloom red. Liam rocketed forward on his desk and grunted from the force.

  “Nice!” he said. “You sensed I liked it rough.”

  Giving an exasperated sigh, Kit turned and walked toward the office door.

  “Tickle my balls once before you go. Be a sport.”

  Kit looked back to see Liam’s cock hardening. A tingling grew in his belly.

  “Pull up your pants, Briggs.”

  “How about a suck?” Liam wasn’t giving up, as usual. “I’ll return the favor.”

  “Fuck off.”

  Before he slammed the door, Kit heard Liam say, “Oh, there’ll be a lot of fucking once I win our bet.”

  ***

  Chapter 2

  Supernaturals came out of the closet over 100 years ago, at the turn of the 20th century. Werewolves and all manner of shifters, vampires, ghouls, fairies and trolls—every monster unknown to humans became known. No longer were they the stuff of legends and folklore.

  Over those years, they’d seen many atrocities and triumphs. In WWI, supernaturals became allies to the humans, helping them fight their way to victory. During WWII, Hitler persecuted supernaturals alongside innocent Jews in his effort to cleanse the world of what he saw as imperfection. But, in the end, humans and supernaturals won this fight, too.

  Though supernaturals had often worked beside humans for the greater good, that didn’t mean all humans now accepted them. Xenophobia still thrived in certain close minded sectors. The supernaturals also had their prejudiced population, who hated humans and wished monsters had never revealed themselves to what they thought of as ‘rigid flesh suits.’

  Peter wondered if the battles would ever end, if they would ever find peace among the masses. He pondered this as he and Xavier drove to Stanley Park to meet up with Detective Reels, a ghoul who also worked in SPD’s homicide division.

  “Heard you found a hand at Port Metro,” Frank Reels said earlier that day, when he’d phoned Peter and Xavier on their day off. “You think ghouls are involved.”

  “Evidence points to that, but…” Peter didn’t want to give Reels too much information. The ghoul was a skilled cop, but he was also known for being sleazy and having loose lips.

  “You have your doubts.”

  The tiny hairs on the back of Peter’s neck had stood up. “Could say that.” How did Reels know he doubted this was a ghoul attack? He and Xavier hadn’t shared their hunch with anyone.

  “Meet me at Stanley Park in an hour. I got some information that might interest you.”

  So here they were, driving toward Stanley Park on their Saturday off. Not that this was anything new for Peter and Xavier. Working in homicide meant they often sacrificed days off to finish up paperwork, follow up on a lead, whatever the job demanded.

  They met up with Reels along the Seawall. He munched on a sandwich filled with meat going green around the edges. Peter tried not to think about what Reels’ lunch contained.

  Reels nodded at Peter and Xavier as they took a seat on either side of him on the bench.

  “So what’s this information?” Peter said, once he made sure no one lingered nearby. It was early October, and though many Vancouverites still bustled along the Seawall, the place wasn’t as busy as it would be during tourist season.

  “The hand you found … belonged to a supernatural, right?” Reels’ needly yellow teeth tore another bite from his sandwich. He brushed crumbs from his thin mustache. Considering how little body hair most ghouls had, it was a wonder he could grow one at all.

  Xavier looked at Peter and gave a nod. An indication they’d have to give a little to get a little. Peter trusted his partner’s instincts.

  “A vampire,” Xavier told Reels. “Female. Newly turned.”

  “Definitely not a ghoul then. We don’t eat supernaturals.”

  Xavier and Peter knew that. Ghouls considered this an act of cannibalism.

  “And we don’t eat fresh meat,” Reels said. ‘Definitely not a ghoul.” He shook his head.

  “So what’s your theory then?” Peter prodded. “Fill us in.”

  Reels milky blue eyes darted from Peter to Xavier and back again. He brushed his moonlight-pale hands on his brown pants and stared at the Seawall a moment. “You know the Arkham clan?”

  Xavier nodded. “They live in Mountain View Cemetery.”

  “Yeah, near the Princess Sophia Wreck.”

  Reels referenced a section of the cemetery where 60 people were buried. They died back in 1918 when a horrific storm dashed the steamer upon the reef. Many different clans of ghouls lived in larger cemeteries, like Mountain View, and each clan would pick a certain section as their territory.

  “Some of their kids have been going missing. Teenagers mostly.”

  Those tiny hairs stood up again as Peter thought of the missing homeless humans.

  “One of those kids turned up recently. Parents brought him to see me. Said he’d got in with something real bad,” Reels continued. “They suspected drugs. Kid barely made sense when he talked, but I did get something outta him.” Reels paused to sip his coffee.

  Peter lost patience. “Spill it, Reels. This is our day off.”

  Reels held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, sheesh. Don’t rush an old ghoul.” He wiped his mouth with his tie. “Kid told me he was abducted by the Polidori clan. That they were pumping him full of something and getting him to kill supernaturals. Like some sorta zombie hitman.”

  Dread unfurled in Peter. It trickled down his back like cold water and pooled in his guts.

  “Polidori clan. We’re talking rock star vampires,” Xavier said.

  And he was right. Polidori’s were connected, just like Peter’s family. They were the upper crust of supernatural society. The Polidori clan and the Briggs clan, which Peter shared DNA with, were tight. And from his time spent in that upper class world, Peter knew all too well it was rancid with corruption.

  “Why were they getting him to kill supernaturals?”

  Reels shrugged at Peter. “Kid didn’t make much sense. Whatever he was on, it messed up his brain bad. I don’t even know how much of this you can believe, but I thought you’d find it interesting.”

  Xavier gave an exasperated sigh. “So, humor us. Why would Polidori clan want to murder supernaturals? And why are they kidnapping ghouls to do their dirty work?”

  “The kid claims they send out the ghouls to keep their hands clean. As for why… well, if he’s telling the truth, we got a big conspiracy on our hands.”

  “Spill.”

  Reels gave Peter a wary look. “They’re using the DNA from the dead supernaturals to create some sort of serum.” He cleared his throat, took another sip of coffee. “A serum that, the kid claims, will turn humans into supernaturals.”

  “We need to talk to this kid,” Peter said. “Can you hook us up, Reels?”

  “Love to, but the kid went missing again. Two days ago. No one’s seen him since.”

  Reels finished filling them in and promised to contact them if the kid showed up again, or if any of the missing ghoul teenagers showed up. Reels also made his home in Mountain View Cemetery, so he’d know, through his ghoul networks, the moment any of the teens came home.

  They parted ways and Peter and Xavier headed back to their car.

 
“We need to tell the chief about this,” Peter said.

  “Yeah.” Xavier wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “First thing Monday morning.”

  Peter gave him a disapproving scowl. “This can’t wait.”

  “It’s gonna have to. Chief Baker is out tidal water fishing until Sunday night. He didn’t take his phone.”

  “Shit.” Peter’s shoulders sagged. “Forgot about that.”

  Xavier rubbed the back of his neck. “We could use some R ’N’ R ourselves. Come on. Let’s go home.

  ***

  At their apartment, Xavier suggested they take a nice, long hot shower together. It had been a stressful week, and, to Peter, this sounded like the perfect solution for easing the tension.

  If what the ghoul kid told Reels was true, they were about to stumble into something big. Unless the kid was just high and delusional. A part of Peter hoped the latter was true, but his gut told him it wasn’t. He sensed what they were about to blow open would rock the foundations of the human and supernatural world.

  The missing homeless population had to be connected to this. Now, Peter was sure of it. And he believed, along with what Reels had told him, they had enough circumstantial to present the possibility to the chief.

  But they lacked hard evidence, and that nagged at Peter. Chief Baker could still dismiss this all as superficial hunches and the delusional testimony of a tripping ghoul.

  “Get your ass in that bathroom.” Xavier sneaked up behind him and rubbed his shoulders. “I know you’re still thinking about it. Let it go for tonight, babe. We’ll start fresh Monday.”

  He took Peter’s hand and led him to the bathroom.

  The moment he stepped into the pristine white room with parquet floor, Peter relaxed. This was his sanctuary, the place he came to let go of his problems, and Xavier knew it.

  Xavier pulled back the white fabric shower curtain and turned on the stainless steel taps. Soon, hot water gushed from the total body showerhead and steam rose in plumes.

  Xavier beckoned him into the gleaming white tub and Peter joined him. His lover, a few inches taller and a bit beefier, turned Peter so his back pressed into Xavier’s broad, muscled chest. He grabbed a bottle of shampoo from the shower rack. A musky scent mixed with the clean fragrance of citrus, and just a hint of sweet jasmine, teased his nostrils as Xavier squirted the liquid into his open palm. He sighed and his muscle melted as his partner massaged the shampoo into his hair, working up a lather.