A Kinky Little Christmas (Knot So Kinky Book 1) Read online

  Knot So Kinky

  Book One

  A Kinky Little Christmas

  Karyn Rose

  Nom de Plume Publications, LLC

  PO Box 31506

  Aurora, CO 80041

  www.NDPPublications.com

  A Kinky Little Christmas

  ISBN: 978-1-945854-89-7

  All content including, but not limited to, characters and situations are the intellectual property of the author and may not be used in any way without prior written approval.

  Copyright © 2019 All Rights Reserved

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter One

  Maybe being home for the holidays isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, Scott mused silently, watching cars come and go in the motel parking lot through the ancient, water-stained sheer curtains. Crammed into a tiny lot just off the I-90 turnout at the north end of Seattle’s industrial area, the cheap motel was proving to be a busy place for after midnight on a Thursday.

  A brassy blonde that he’d immediately pegged as a hooker cruised back and forth under the faded tinsel bells strung up on the streetlights. After the first three men had shaken their heads and driven off, Scott decided she must have overpriced her services for the market. Or possibly the season, he supposed, assuming that Christmas wasn’t exactly the best time for middle-aged, married men to be able to scrounge up extra cash. Not that he would know, being both single and at least fifteen years shy of what he thought of as middle-aged.

  At the other end of the lot, a scrawny kid in a dark blue hoodie was doing possibly the worst job ever of staying under law enforcement radar, glancing around nervously each time he exchanged a small package for cash with equally obvious customers. Apparently thinking that the sparse branches of an ancient pine hid him from view, he’d missed the fact that the cheap blinking lights strung on the scraggly tree had the overall effect of stage lighting his performance.

  What said Merry Christmas more than over-priced hookers and questionable drugs? Scott sighed, wondering again why he’d ever bitched about being deployed during the holiday season.

  A muffled moan from the floor in front of him brought Scott’s attention back to the room he was in, kneeling naked at the edge of the bed, but, due to the height of the motel windows, only visible from the waist up.

  “Look, man. I’m just not feeling this.” Scott stood abruptly, sending the smaller man flying back to land on the thin motel mattress with more of a thud than a bounce and wincing as the sudden move scraped his cock against sharp teeth.

  “What?” the twink shook his head, his jaw dropping in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve been sucking your dick for twenty minutes and you’re not feeling it?” He twitched his slender fingers in air quotes. “The fuck?”

  Annoyance coursing through his body, Scott glared down at him. “Well, Timmy,” he drawled, cocking his brow. “If you were good at it, you wouldn’t still be sucking, now, would ya?” Grabbing his jeans from the pile of clothes he’d shucked off earlier, Scott pulled a couple of bills from the front pocket and dropped them on the ugly paisley comforter. “Here. This should make up for the inconvenience.”

  “What is your fucking problem?” the other man hissed, shoving the bills back toward Scott. “I’m not a fucking whore! And my name is Tom, not Timmy, asswipe!”

  “Because that matters,” Scott muttered, sarcasm dripping from each syllable. “Take it, don’t take it, I don’t much care.” Scott had already yanked his jeans over his bare ass and was in the process of stuffing his feet into a pair of well-worn cowboy boots. Tossing his t-shirt over his shoulder, Scott scooped up his leather jacket and hesitated with his hand on the doorknob, submitting to the slightest twinge of remorse for the dickish way he was behaving. It wasn’t the twink’s fault that his fucking dick had lost all interest in sex when he’d made it home only to find out that his boyfriend had changed the locks and moved on. “Look, I’m sorry, alright? Use the money to buy yourself a couple of drinks while you wait for someone who’s worth your effort.”

  Without waiting for a response, Scott let the door slam behind him and headed for the shiny silver Ram truck sitting in the corner of the parking lot.

  ~*~

  “Another bad week? You’re pissy as fuck,” Jayden observed, twirling the stainless-steel straw he took everywhere and staring at Scott over the rim of his red plastic soda glass. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m fine,” Scott snapped, gesturing to the menu on the pearl-gray laminate table. “Do you know what you want? Lunch rush is going to start soon.”

  Jayden made a show of staring around the nearly empty diner before turning back to his best friend. “You think?”

  “Sorry,” Scott groaned. The only thing worse than him being a prick was his best friend’s subtle way of pointing it out. “Yeah, shit’s still not coming together. The hours at the gym suck. The walls of that shitty motel are so thin that I’m starting to think I’d be better off sleeping in the truck. I’ve sent out twenty-two rental applications to places that say they’re vet-friendly, but haven’t gotten a response. Not that I could bring Shithead with me to any of them.”

  Jayden snickered. “You really ought to change that cat’s name.”

  Scott rolled his eyes. “Not like Dennis has even responded to any of the texts or emails asking that he gives my fucking cat to me.” He ground his teeth. “He doesn’t even like the cat, he’s just using it as a way to squeeze money out of me.”

  “I know. Maybe once you find a place, talk to a lawyer and see if you can force the issue?”

  “Probably going to have to,” Scott agreed. “It’s not bad enough he waited until I came home to tell me we were done and that I was homeless, he could at least let me have my fucking cat.”

  “True.” Jayden scowled and then changed the subject. “I thought we decided you were gonna get you a lil sumthin’ last night?” Jayden batted his heavily mascaraed lashes as the waitress stopped at their table. “You must have done it wrong, ‘cause you could curdle milk with the scowl on your face this morning.”

  Scott waited until the waitress left with their order and a promise of drink refills to huff a response. “Could we not discuss this shit in front of Caroline? I don’t really feel the need to have the whole town know I couldn’t get off, okay?”

  Jayden’s eyes widened. “You need some of those magic pills? I know a guy.” He waved one perfectly manicured hand at Scott as he opened his mouth. “And don’t worry about Caroline. The old bag’s gotta b
e a hundred. I’m sure she’s had her share of droopy disappointments.”

  “Fuck you.” Scott rolled his eyes. “First off, she’s, like, forty, and, second, I don’t need any fucking pills.” He swallowed a mouthful of iced tea and sighed. “I tried. I picked up a cute little twink at Roxie's and didn’t have any trouble getting or keeping it up, okay?” When Jayden raised a brow, Scott continued. “And, before you ask, no. It wasn’t his fault.” He sighed again. “Actually, he was damned good. He sucked me for about twenty minutes, but I just couldn’t get into the blow job and, honestly, wasn’t really in the mood to fuck him, so I left him at the motel and went for a drive.”

  Jayden’s mouth tightened into a perfect circle. “So, what, you just left him hanging and walked away?”

  Scott nodded, deciding not to divulge having added insult to injury by throwing cash at the twink. “Pretty much.”

  “Um, should I point out that you basically walked out of your own place?”

  “Please, don’t,” Scott huffed. “I just went for a ride, and, luckily, he was gone and all my shit was still there when I got back.”

  “Oh, Scottybear.” Jayden’s deep brown eyes were troubled. “It’s been two months since you got home. Have you hooked up with anyone?”

  Scott shrugged. “More important shit in life than sex, Jade.”

  “I know that,” Jayden sighed. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t important. Shit, when was the last time you had sex?” He waited a second and clarified, “And your hand doesn’t count. With another person besides Dumbass?”

  Scott groaned. “It’s been a minute, okay?” When Jayden cocked his head, Scott surrendered. “Fine, you fucking perv. It was in Seoul when we had leave, a couple of months before I met Dennis.”

  “The handie in the bathroom of the karaoke place that Tibbs dragged us to?” Jayden blew out a breath and shook his head. “That was three years ago! You need to get back on the horse.” He paused when the waitress walked up, nearly staggering under a massive tray.

  “Let me,” Scott offered, jumping up to hold the tray as she set their plates down.

  “What a good boy,” Caroline teased with a smile. “I told Freddy that I couldn’t carry two tables worth, but does he listen?”

  “No problem,” Scott chuckled, setting off for the only other occupied table with the tray balanced on his broad shoulder. “Be right back, Jade.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Jayden lifted his fork, poking at his scrambled eggs. When Scott plopped back into his seat, Jade looked thoughtful. “You have plans tonight?”

  “Naw,” Scott mumbled through the mouthful of pancakes he’d promptly stuffed in. “Think I’ve disappointed enough twinks for the week. Maybe even for the month.”

  “Come with me to the club,” Jayden suggested.

  Scott started to shake his head, but Jayden fixed him with his best puppy eyes. “Please? I was supposed to go with Lenny, but he canceled, and I don’t want to go alone.”

  “Fine,” Scott agreed, groaning inwardly. “Want me to pick you up?”

  Jayden shook his head, the thoughtful look deepening. “Come over about eight and we can have a couple of drinks before we call an Uber,” he suggested.

  Shoveling in another fork of pancakes, Scott shrugged. If he didn’t go out, he’d just end up drinking in the musty motel room while he tried to ignore his loud-ass neighbors fucking or fighting on the other side of the walls. Six of one, half dozen of the other as his commanding officer used to say. “What have I got to lose?”

  “That’s the spirit!” Jayden teased. “Let’s change the subject. Have you applied to any new apartments this week?”

  Scott groaned. “I got a recommendation from a buddy in the VA. He knows this guy who has a huge old house down by the docks and rents out rooms. I filled in his online application and paid the background check fee, but I haven’t heard from him yet.”

  “What’s the place like?” Jayden leaned forward, his chin in his hand as visions of redecorating options ran through his head. “Can we paint?”

  Scott reached for his tea. “I haven’t actually seen it, but it’s not like it matters. The place comes furnished. I’m not even pulling my shit out of storage if he accepts my app, so there’s no point in painting.”

  “You could still move in with me,” Jaden offered with a bright smile. “We’d have so much fun!”

  Scott snorted. “You have a three-hundred square foot studio that barely fits your bed,” he pointed out, not for the first time. “I love that you want to help, but I don’t think that’s going to work, but thanks.”

  “Fine,” Jayden gave a put-upon sigh. “At least tell me what the neighborhood is like.”

  Chapter Two

  Seattle’s BDSM scene had been quietly growing in recent years and as the foremost and longest-running local kink club, RACK was always busy on Friday nights. RACK’s owner, a short, squat Italian man with a big belly and bigger cock who went by Rico even though his real name was Jake, was a true believer in the draw of customer service. To that end, he prided himself on running the cleanest kink club on the west coast and offered perks to his top members.

  In the case of Zachary James Dukas, Master to the submissives in the clubs, Professor to his students, and Duke to everyone else but his mother – rest her soul, earning billing as one of RACK’s resident Dominants meant a booth in the lounge was always available for him, he had no-wait access to any available playroom, and there was a house-paid tab at the bar on the nights that he was in attendance, which, given he was scheduled to lead a public scene, he was on that Friday night.

  Leaning back against the black leather bench in his booth with a drink in his left hand, Duke glanced casually around the crowded lounge. The usually understated leather and mahogany décor was teeming with holiday cheer, from the boughs of mistletoe that were hanging from curling red and green ribbons every few feet to the garland trimmed with silver-colored bells that lined the doorways to the massive artificial tree that stood in the center of the room, there was a warm and cheerful feel. Duke smiled approvingly; it was definitely an improvement over the Saint Andrew’s Cross that had been wrapped in blinking lights the year before.

  “Move it!”

  Duke’s attention was pulled back from the crowd around him by a soft grunt of pain following the harsh rebuke. Steely gray eyes took in the young woman kneeling at his feet before settling on the impatient man shoving his way through the crowd. Sliding to the end of the booth, Duke caught up with him in two steps, halting his forward progress with one large hand on his shoulder.

  “What the fuck?” The man spun around, glaring up into Duke’s face.

  “I believe you owe that person an apology,” Duke said, his voice calm as he took in the lavender hand stamp identifying the man as a non-member guest.

  “I’m not apologizing to a piece of fucking trash,” the smaller man snapped back. “Get your fucking hands off me!”

  Duke’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the man’s shoulder tightening. “Boy, you seem to have misunderstood me. That wasn’t a suggestion.” He turned back the way they had come, dragging his captive back to the table and forcing him to his knees in front of the kneeling woman, her eyes still trained on the floor.

  “Cassie, look up.”

  The young woman obeyed immediately. Of course, she did. Duke had been training her for months.

  “Sorry,” the rude man nearly spat the words, his eyes flashing with hostility as he glared up at Duke. “Happy now, fucker?”

  Duke’s only response was to pull the man back to his feet and head for the exit with the man in tow. He shoved the man out into the street, pausing only long enough for the security team to make a note of the ejection so they wouldn’t re-admit the twit.

  Stopping at the front counter to rifle around in the junk drawer, Duke pulled a half-crumpled tube of ointment free from the tangle of miscellaneous items before returning to his table, the crowd parting to make way for him.

  “Cassie
, stand up.” He waited as she rose gracefully to her feet. “Where did he kick you?”

  Eyes still lowered, Cassie eased her snug-fitting yoga pants down over her butt, revealing the red mark on her right hip, the edges already turning blue and purple.

  Duke held back a wince at the sight and pulled the Arnica cream from his pocket. Gently rubbing it over the bruise, he studied her reaction. Her face was impassive, but from the way her body twitched at the contact, the bruise had to be painful. Which, given they had a demonstration planned in under two hours, was a problem. Making his decision, Duke tapped her cheek with one fingertip and waited for her to meet his eyes.

  “I’m canceling our demonstration,” Duke informed her.

  When Cassie’s face fell, he understood her disappointment. After months of training, this was supposed to have been her first public demonstration, an opportunity to show the rest of the club what she could do, how well she responded.

  A chance for her to maybe attract a Dom of her own.

  But, true to form and training, she simply schooled her expression. “Yes, Master.”

  “Good girl,” Duke praised her, carefully pulling her pants back into place. When she would have returned to her spot on her knees, Duke shook his head. “We’re not training tonight. Go mingle.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Is she okay?” Rico popped free of the crowd as Cassie disappeared.

  “Yeah. Those boots had a pointed steel-tip, though,” Duke explained, annoyance lacing his words. “It would be irresponsible to flog her when she’s injured.”

  “Of course,” Rico agreed, his frown mirroring Duke’s. “You want me to cancel the demonstration?”

  Duke glanced down at his watch, an artifact of a time gone by, it seemed. “We’ve still got time. Why don’t you put out a call for a volunteer or two for a beginner’s demo instead? Nothing more intense than a paddle.”

  Rico nodded. “You want us to screen?”

  “Yeah.” Duke sat down, stretching his long legs out on the bench in front of him. “Send me five options and I’ll decide from there.”