by H.C. Brown
Club Floggers Book 3
Seth Bannock is living a lie. Nothing in his life is working out. He likes women . . . he respects women . . . but when he tries to kiss a woman and she does that tongue thing, he wants to spew.
Confused by his body’s reaction to the men at his gym, Seth seeks help from the only gay club he knows—Floggers. Is the man crazy? Seeking answers, the innocent, vanilla virgin marches into the BDSM club to speak to the owner Rio Knight.
Realization that he has been on the wrong team all his life comes in the form of a six-foot-seven Adonis by the name of Matt Duffey. Instantly attracted to the leather-clad alpha male, Seth must leave his old life behind and embrace his newfound sexuality.
Seth thought his life had complications before he met Matt, but nothing comes close to the rollercoaster ride in the big Dom’s arms.
Seth Bannock stared at the front door. A yellow glow seeped thought the glass panels forming a pool of light at his feet. The street buzzed with the noise of a normal Saturday night. Teenagers spilled out from a loud party two doors up, and moved in small groups along the sidewalk in a constant stream of chatter. Cars spun their wheels and, horns blasting with young men hanging out of the windows, roared up the road.
With a sigh, Seth pushed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. What had just happened? His friend of the past six months, Rose McCarthy, had given him the finger, sworn colorfully, and slammed the front door in his face. He gazed at her neat two-story brick house, his mind frazzled. Okay, so he had tried to kiss her, he wanted to be nice, and she had asked him for the kiss—no, she’d pleaded for it. It wasn’t his fucking idea. In truth, he had no inclination to kiss anyone. Perhaps he could have handled a straight kiss, but then the woman stuck her tongue into his mouth. She tasted like stale beer, and he nearly spewed his guts out. Christ, she’d gone feral, insisting he wasn’t normal, that he kissed like a girl. How the fuck, did she know how girls kissed anyway?
Seth rubbed the back of his neck. Not again.
He had—had being the operative word here—liked Rose. He’d met her at his gym. True, he appreciated her slim body, enjoyed their long chats, and her companionship. The trouble with Rose and all the other women he had dated over the past three years was moving beyond being friends. Not that he wanted to, but he always made things worse by rejecting their advances. He happened to prefer being friends. He liked women, well, at least until they did that thing with their eyes and expected him to fondle their tits. Hell, he even enjoyed going to the mall with them—but kissing them and the tongue thing—fuck, it made him uncomfortable. The eventuality of finding the right girl had become a personal nightmare.
He had to face facts—he didn’t like girls in that way.
Rose’s words would haunt him forever. You’re gay and can’t admit it to yourself.
Normal men like women to touch them—you move away. Do you look at girlie magazines to jerk off? Or are you thinking about the hot jocks sweating at the gym? The worse thing was, he hadn’t given her a reply—he had no excuse. In fact, he had never bought a girlie magazine in his life.
The look of disgust on her face burned into his mind, to join the list of other horror-date memories. Matt turned away from the house and walked to his car. The woman had a point. He had never dated during high school or college, keeping to himself or hanging out with the other jocks. In truth, he liked the smell of men, the gloss of sweat on hard muscle, damp hair curling on a broad, muscular neck. To admit this even to himself—fuck! His head throbbed with the implication.
Swinging into his car, Seth thought over the strange messages his body gave him whenever, he noticed men looking at him in that way. It happened all the time at the gym. As a personal trainer, he had clients of both sexes and kept things on a very professional level, but a couple of guys had brushed his leg and given him the look. His stomach had clenched as if in anticipation; his heart rate had quickened. Why? The thought of sliding his hands over a man’s hot, sweaty body did not repel him. Should it? Who would know? Hell, he couldn’t just walk up to someone and ask a question like that, he valued his teeth too much. What should he do? He had to discuss his problem with someone who would not laugh at him. I gotta know if watching two men together turns me on . . . yeah . . . I’ll pick up a couple of pornos. If the movies turn me on, I’ll need to discuss my problem with someone. I’ll go online, and do a search; there must be someone in this town I can speak to.