A touch can take many forms. It can be hard, soft, cold, hot, pleasurable, sadistic…much like kink. In Touch, several kinks take their turn in the spotlight, exhibited by men and women trying to find their way in life.
Meet Nicholas Ford, club owner and Dominant, and explore the world of Daddy Doms and Littles when he meets Kayla, a little submissive he’s inexplicably drawn to but isn’t allowed to touch. Mark Cooper works the bar in his friend’s fetish club, and one night he gets the challenge he’s been waiting for served up on a mouthwatering platter. He’s to introduce newbies Brayden and Evangeline to BDSM, quickly discovering they’re both submissive—quickly getting himself attached, too. Only a couple issues: he’s a tad emotionally jaded from his recent divorce, and Brayden struggles with his sexuality.
Rio Kelly all but abandoned the lifestyle when a brief encounter with a runaway girl changed everything. Ten years later, he sees Chelsea again, and the high-protocol sub is looking for a strict Owner. While navigating unchartered waters with a Master who’s grown cynical and resigned, Chelsea befriends Dylan, a young guy going through his own relationship problems. Dylan’s Daddy Dom isn’t like most others. Cade Kingsley is rough around the edges but wears his heart on his sleeve. Together with Dylan and Gabriella, they try to patch something together that’s just for them. By any means necessary, a few kinky hearts need to be mended.
Touch originally consisted of six novellas and novels. Look but Don’t Touch, Twice the Touch, A Touch to Surrender, A Touch of Trouble, Comforting Touch, and Touching Ink have now been reworked and prettied up for the relaunch, but not without some brand spankin’ new material. Along with the original stories, a dozen outtakes, future takes, and epilogue have been added, including demos, a new novella, and more kinky fun.
All to make the complete Touch your not-so-little black book of kink.
Greg from Touching Truth
I have more money than they do. Greater success. A bigger home, a nicer car, the latest technology… Yet, they're the ones who are smiling, goofing around, and living life to the fullest.
I see it every time I come here, and I always have to pause before I enter their bar. A hole-in-the-wall kind of place I normally wouldn’t set a foot inside. Hell, I shouldn’t even be in this neighborhood, which happens to be San Francisco's gay district.
Ryan Quinn runs his bar with the familiar ease of a man who's always on top of things. He's friendly though constantly assessing, comes off as lethal and intimidating, and can flash the kindest grins as well as the most wolfish smirks. His chiseled body is battered and full of tattoos and scars, the latter serving as reminders of his years in the Marines.
He's got an easy two decades on his impish wife. Angel works alongside him in the bar, and she can't be more than twenty-two or twenty-three. She's short, soft, and curvy where he's imposing, hard, and immense. Her green eyes meet his steel gray eyes, and they quirk smirks at each other. They worship one another. He throws a wineglass her way, which she catches before opening a bottle for a patron.
When he passes her, he catches a wisp of blond hair that’s escaped her cheeky pigtails and drops a kiss to her neck. She's dyed the tips of her hair pink.
The envy burns hotly within me.
The envy is new.
Straightening my tie, I clear my throat and square my shoulders. Let's at least pretend I have some composure before they take it away from me—again. Twice a month, like clockwork. I always come back for more, because I am a weak fucking excuse for a man.
I take a deep breath, then open the door and enter the establishment. Memorabilia from the Marines, a sports team or two, and political messages fill the walls. Fucking liberals. Breathe a word of anything conservative around them, and they'll string you up by the balls. I would know.
Considering it's early, only a handful of customers are here, and they're gathered along the bar. The five tables and the dart area stand empty until people get off work.
Ryan sees me first and greets me with a lazy grin.
Angel, the little girl with the most deceptive name known to man, smirks deviously. "Hello, pet."
I suppress a shiver and choose a mild scowl instead. I absolutely loathe being called that in front of others, and she damn well knows it.
Kayla from Touch of Trouble
Each slide of Daddy’s big cock inside me is like feeding me Viagra for girls; I'm soaking wet, and there's nothing I can do about it. But the pinches, the rough squeezes, and the sharp nips of his teeth…they always confuse me. A part of me needs it, and even wants it, but another part doesn’t. I'm swimming in indecision, which leaves me vulnerable and easier for him to dominate. It's what ultimately makes me yield.
In a final effort, I try to push him away. I shove at his shoulders and claw at his skin. He tries to kiss me, and I turn away and snarl at him.
"Feisty little baby slut, aren't you?" He hisses in my ear, sending tingles down my spine. "I think I've let you be a brat for too long, Kayla." The hand that isn't restraining my own hands slides under me and cups my butt. "Haven't I told you that I will always take care of you? Haven't I told you that I'll do what's best for you?" He lets out a gritty moan as he continues to pump into me. "Yet, for the past few days…you've questioned me, begged me, been manipulative…"
A hard squeeze to one of my butt cheeks makes me cry out. Tears well up in my eyes. He sees it, but he remains ruthless and relentless.
"Handling a little brat can be fun," he whispers, "but I want my precious sweetheart back now." With that, he takes me even harder.
Pain mingles with more pleasure as he begins to stroke my clit. Then more pain. Bites, harsh thrusts. More pleasure. He sucks on my nipples, his tongue swirling and teasing. Pain. His entire body presses down on me.
The brat in me whimpers in defeat and pulls back.
"Would I ever let anyone hurt you?"
"No…" I suck my bottom lip into my mouth. "But, Daddy—"
"No buts." He claims my mouth in a hard kiss and moans. "Trust me, Kayla. When we're in Oregon, trust me to take care of you and keep you happy." I flush with heat, and his reassurances finally settle in. "Work with me instead of against me. If you struggle…we both know Daddy will fuck the fight out of you."
Chelsea from Comforting Touch
I narrow my eyes at her. "Who're we listening in on?"
Kayla blinks innocently, which is total bullshit. A part of me is already annoyed 'cause I know she wouldn’t be this urgent unless it was about Rio.
I hiss. "Is Nicholas in there with Rio?"
Leaving her coyness—and patience, I guess—behind, she snarls and pushes me toward the door to the office.
Part annoyed…part fucking intrigued…it doesn’t take much for me to glue half my face to the door, and Kayla follows with glee sparking up her light blues.
"…would've told you sooner," Nicholas is saying, chuckling, "had you only been answering your phone."
Kayla shoots me a superior look, as if to say I'm not the only one immature enough to dodge calls.
"I still can't believe it." Rio sounds…tired. Tired and aggravated. "It's fucking with my head." To hear him speak again is indescribable. There's no forgetting that accent. Mostly American, the nondescript kind we get on TV, but with a hint of Australian and Irish. "Nick, I…I don’t want her here."
I recoil as if I've been slapped and take a couple steps back.
It feels like I've been slapped.
I'm not arrogant, but I'm not stupid, either. Of course he's talking about me.
Kayla appears irritated, hopefully on my behalf, but then she widens her eyes and quickly waves me forward again. She points to the door.
So I sigh and listen again, even though I'd rather go home and eat ice cream until I pass out.
"She’s the reason you left the scene, isn't she?"
What? Why would--
"No," Rio growls.
"Easy, tiger," I mutter.
Nicholas laughs. "I'm sorry, my friend, but this is hilarious. And sad. We both are. You know, I went through this exact same thing with Amand—"
"She's not the bloody reason," Rio replies angrily. "I don’t know what the fuck happened back then, but…" He lets out another growl, and a thump follows.
"No need to take out your anger on my furniture," Nicholas says mildly. "I won't leave Liam watching over Kayla much longer, so unless there's something else…?"
I arch a brow at Kayla. You're in trouble, girl.
She shrugs, although there's a little wince, too.
"So she's staying," Rio states flatly. "She lives here now."
Sorry to disappoint, asshole.
I'm often stoically silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there's so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex. There's a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly. Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve. Additionally, I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.
Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.
I'm a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, and geeking. There's time for hockey and cupcakes, too. But mostly, I just love to write.