Unkinked, p.1
Unkinked, page 1
Table of Contents
Books by M.C. Roth
Title Page
Legal Page
Book Description
Dedication
Trademark Acknowledgements
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
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About the Author
Pride Publishing books by M.C. Roth
Single Books
The Drumbeat of His Heart
A Song for His Heart
Karma’s Kiss
Greedy Boy
It’s a Kink Thing
Kinked Up
It’s a Kink Thing
UNKINKED
M.C. ROTH
Unkinked
ISBN # 978-1-83943-223-1
©Copyright M.C. Roth 2022
Cover Art by Kelly Martin ©Copyright September 2022
Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Pride Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2022 by Pride Publishing, United Kingdom.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.
Pride Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.
Book two in the
It’s a Kink Thing series
Two broken men. One secret addiction. No turning back.
When Derreck stumbles upon Maddy, who is sitting in his car and nearly sweating to death under the summer’s sun, he is at his breaking point.
But Maddy is just as lost, searching for a Dom he only knows by name and waiting in his car outside the club Unkinked on the tiny chance that the Dom might find him. When it is revealed that Derreck is the man Maddy has been searching for from the very beginning, it seems fate couldn’t get any sweeter.
Derreck invites Maddy into Unkinked as his guest, with the promise of the pain that Maddy so desperately craves. A scene that should have been simple opens Maddy’s mind to a new world and community that aren’t riddled with guilt or judgment.
Derreck knows he can’t let his sub slip away, but Maddy is keeping secrets from his new Dom—secrets that could change their relationship forever.
Dedication
For Q
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Mustang: Ford Motor Company Corporation
Office Depot:
Toyota: Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha Corporation
Jägermeister: Mast- Jägermeister SE
Jameson: Pernod Ricard
Final Fantasy: Square Enix
Gatorade: Stokely-Van Camp Inc.
Fifty Shades of Grey: E.L. James, Universal Pictures
Sprite: Coca-Cola Corporation
Volvo: Volvo Trademark Holding AB Corporation
Honda: Honda Giken Kogyo Kabushiki Kaisha – Honda Motor Co Ltd
Hallmark: Hallmark Licensing Inc.
Pepto Bismol: The Proctor & Gamble Company Corporation
Gaviscon: Aventisub LLC
Buick: General Motors LLC
Jeep: FCA US LLC
7 Up: Keurig Dr. Pepper
X-Acto: Elmer’s Products, Inc.
Chapter One
Derreck
Derreck killed his car’s engine, letting his eyes fall shut as he leaned back against the leather seat. He could barely keep his eyes open as exhaustion pulled at him, sinking into his weary bones until his frame was thinly stretched.
The seat was comfortable enough that he could almost imagine himself drifting off to the sound of gentle ticking as the Mustang slowly cooled. The air conditioning faded, draining his hope for restful peace as sweat beaded on his forehead. Wiping it away, he let out one last sigh before he opened the door.
Even warmer air coated him as he stepped onto the pavement, his sweat drying under the sun almost instantly. A single shriveled maple on the street hung limp, its leaves barely managing to hold on as the sun baked them black. He rubbed his eyes as his shoes kicked up enough dust to blind an army within a few steps.
Stumbling on the curb, Derreck managed to catch himself on the lamp post that jutted out of the edge of the sidewalk. His palm burned as it touched the heated surface, a gasp pushing through his lips.
Usually it wouldn’t bother him—the pain. It was a part of life that he could easily ignore or twist into something much better—but not when he’d gone weeks without a decent night’s sleep.
He’d thrown himself into his work, pulling more hours than anyone else, all to avoid the enthralling eyes of the sub that haunted his dreams. If only it had worked.
“Are you okay?”
He turned toward the voice as it trickled into his thoughts. The street was empty. Even the plant that hung from the lamp post was nothing more than a few dried twigs and a bunch of dehydrated pansies. He paused, raising his hand to block his eyes from the sun’s glare.
The voice had sounded close, but he couldn’t spy anyone as he looked around before noting the white door of his destination and the Office Depot across the street. I must be worse off than I thought.
There was usually no one to see him coming and going in this part of town, which was exactly how he liked it. There were a few other cars parked along the curb, and he recognized them all except the red Toyota next to him.
He huffed, ready to turn away, before something caught his eye. The Corolla’s windows were down, the sun baking the exposed gray-cloth interior with heat waves escaping through the openings. It wasn’t a car that should have had its windows down in a place with nobody around.
Derreck took a step toward the car before peering through the passenger window. In the driver’s seat was a man who must’ve been one step away from heatstroke, especially with his black sweater that probably soaked up warmth that much quicker. The interior was tidy, except for a few empty bottles of water stacked on the passenger seat.
Derreck had chosen a baby-blue tank top and jeans himself, but he wished he could pull his tank over his head and dunk himself in the nearest swimming pool.
Leaning over the side of the car, Derreck touched the hood, hissing as heat lanced over his palm. I am going to be useless tonight. Shaking his hand, he leaned down to get a better look at the driver.
The driver was flushed, his face a healthy pink and his brown hair soaked with sweat so thick that it looked nearly back. His sweater clung to him, the fabric dark in almost every spot on his rail-thin body. The man gave Derreck a broad smile, sending a small wave as Derreck peered into the steaming interior.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” said the man, leaning back in his seat and adjusting the strap over his chest. “I saw you stumble and wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Okay? Derreck couldn’t keep the disbelief off his face. He didn’t even have the energy to turn the question back at the guy who was sweating his ass off in a car when it was sweltering, even in the shade. He didn’t want to know.
“I’m good, thanks,” said Derreck, slapping the top of the car as he turned away. You should ask him if he’s okay. Derreck bit down on the urge as it rose behind his teeth. He had too much on his plate, and he couldn’t take one more ounce of anyone else’s shit before he exploded.
But how many times had he stopped things just before they had been about to go to shit? Too many to count.
“You waiting for someone?” Derreck asked, clenching his fists as he paused on the street. The sun soaked into his shoulders, fresh sweat gathering at the base of his neck. Sweet air conditioning was only a few steps away, but this man was so much worse off than him—sitting in his car…in a fucking sweater.
“Uh, yeah.” The man looked up and down the street once before he settled hi s gaze on the familiar blank door that called to Derreck like the sweetest siren. Beyond those doors was relief and relaxation that couldn’t be rivaled by anything else in the world. Too bad there wasn’t a bed meant for just sleeping.
The door to the club Unkinked had never been labeled, which kept a lot of pointed fingers from finding it. This man seemed to know what was inside the same way Derreck did.
Someone’s sub? The guy didn’t look like a Dom, although looks were as deceiving as book covers. Derreck had seen twinky Doms control guys twice their size—putting them on their knees and making them beg usually did the trick.
Derreck had it easier. He looked his part of ruthless Dom, and no one in their right mind would ever ask him to be their sub. It would have been their last question with their own teeth in their head if they did.
He turned away, heading to the door and pressing his hand against the cool surface. He could already feel the stress draining from his body, seeping into the beams of the place where his mind and body felt safest. All he needed was a bit of play and he would be set for the next week. If it were good enough, the high might even last a bit longer and he would be able to catch a bit of sleep.
But his highs were becoming few and far between, and the last one had left him wanting—wanting to never step foot in his place of solace again, wanting to leave the lifestyle behind for good, wanting to be vanilla. He shuddered at the thought.
After pulling his key card from his pocket, he tapped it against the door’s sensor, the light taking much too long to flip over to green before the lock slid back with a clunk. The security was necessary, as was the bouncer on the other side of the door and the dungeon master who was patrolling the club. It kept curious seekers from sneaking their way inside the place where people laid their hearts and souls out in the open.
He nodded at the unfamiliar bouncer, giving him a quick once-over before thoroughly dismissing him. Derreck didn’t care if a sub was burly and thick or lean, because he’d long since mastered hitting a target with a touch of jiggle. But he couldn’t pull the bouncer away from his duties.
The bouncer was the third fresh face he’d seen in as many months. The owner of Unkinked, Clint, must have been outsourcing his help for there to be so many unfamiliar faces—either that or maybe they got sick of hearing people fuck and not being able to join in.
Derreck let out a sigh as the cool air trickled over his skin, his sweat turning into goosebumps as the summer heat was sucked away. He let his eyes fall shut as he took a deep breath. Earth and mold that always clung to him gave way to sex and desire, dredging up memories in an instant. He had thousands of memories of Unkinked, and some of them were the best days and nights of his life.
The pull of desire lured him a step away from the door. The sharpness of vodka and rum tickled his nose as he stepped to the curtain. Am I drinking tonight? A drink meant no scene, and a scene was everything he needed.
There was a subtle staleness to the curtains as Derreck trailed his fingers over the fabric, finally opening his eyes. He pushed them aside, taking in every detail of the dark interior.
Three of the booths were occupied, all by Doms and subs whom he recognized. A few looked up as he entered, one sub blushing and looking back to the floor. Derreck kept his smirk to himself as he nodded to their Dom, Selina. She had allowed him to borrow her sub, after all. It hadn’t been nearly as interesting as he had hoped, but he’d still cherished the submission.
The inside of the club was clean and still bright in the early hour—and was likely different than any newbie expected. There was a touch of nudity in the main area, as well as some rocking leather, but the best parts of the club were out of view. Hidden near the back was the entrance to the main stage and open play area, and tucked around the corner were nine private rooms that made even the most stoic Doms salivate.
From the entrance, though, it could have been any other club, with booths along the wall and a bottle-rich bar with wooden stools for those who wanted to socialize and grab a few drinks. The virgin menu was even more robust than the alcoholic one, catering to the couples who wanted to play.
He stepped to the bar, slipping into an unoccupied stool. Brennen was in the next stool over, bent over a shot glass that reeked of vodka and whiskey—a killer combination that Brennen usually stuck with. There were three more glasses strewn around him and his eyes were already glassy.
He wouldn’t be playing, and he was a Dom anyway, which was something Derreck never tried to push. He had no desire to change a person’s identity, whether it was Dom or sub. Both positions demanded respect.
“Hey, Derreck. It’s a hot one today,” said Brennen, looking up from his glass just long enough to ask.
Derreck grunted, tapping the bar top. His nails were still crusted with dirt and clay. No matter how hard he scrubbed, they never seemed to come clean. Even the potato scrubber from the discount store hadn’t done the trick, although it had stung.
He leaned against the bar as another wave of exhaustion settled over him. The murmur of voices was almost enough to send him straight to sleep, and the ease that always settled over him in Unkinked had him even closer.
“You drinking tonight, Derreck?” asked Clint as he worked his way through the half-dozen others at the bar.
Clint had started Unkinked with his husband, and after his husband had passed, he had taken full responsibility to keep it going. Derreck couldn’t imagine keeping the hours Clint did, along with bartending, organizing events and schedules, giving lessons in first-aid and the mountain of paperwork he must have.
Besides the bouncer and the volunteer dungeon master, Clint worked alone, although there were many subs who offered volunteer service as well.
Derreck blinked as he dropped his gaze to Clint’s hips when they swayed with each sauntering step when he moved closer. He was attractive and strong, with a wicked smirk that had caught Derreck’s eye more than once.
Nodding his head, he peered back over his shoulder. Clint was so far off limits that Derreck shouldn’t have even been looking. One drink. One drink before the fun starts.
Clint gave him a quick smile before reaching for a bottle of Jameson. “The usual?”
Derreck shook his head, eyeing Clint up as he passed under the bar’s light. Clint looked tired and from more than just lack of sleep. He looked the way Derreck had felt for the past few weeks. It was another thing that Derreck just didn’t have the energy to fix.
Clint was his friend. Maybe not in a traditional sense, but Clint had been there for him more than once. In return, Derreck usually had his back. But it had been weeks since Derreck had stepped inside the bar. Things had obviously not changed while he had been trying to convince himself he could stay away.
“Give me a shot of Jäger.” Derreck leaned his elbows on the bar top, sagging as he took in his surroundings. Ask him if he’s okay. He looked back to Clint and to the tightness around his eyes. Not here.
“Must’ve been a shit day,” said Clint as he set the bottle of Jameson down and reached for the Jägermeister instead. His grip was steady, and the liquid didn’t slosh over the side as he poured Derreck his shot. Maybe I’m just projecting.
“Shit week,” said Derreck, surprised that Clint didn’t mention his absence. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Clint was one of the most intuitive men he knew, and he must’ve seen the strain in Derreck’s every movement.
Derreck’s callused palms were red and blistered, his skin dry and still dirty-looking, despite his lengthy shower. His muscles burned, even as he raised his glass to his lips and tossed back the shot. The liquid seared a path down his throat, turning him inside out as it sank into him. It eased the ache in the rest of his body for an instant. A bit of rain would have gone so much further than the shot, though.
“You starting a tab?” Clint grabbed the empty shot glass, setting it on a tray beneath the lip of the bar.
“I’ll stop at one.” Derreck pushed off the stool, heading deeper into the club without looking back at Clint. If he’d stayed any longer, he would have had to ask Clint if he was okay. Letting two people down in one day. Must be a record. He grimaced as his gut throbbed with every movement. Jäger had probably been a poor choice.
