By His Rules

BY HIS RULES

J. A. Rock

www.loose-id.com

By His Rules

Copyright © January 2012 by J. A. Rock

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eISBN 978-1-61118-766-3

Editor: Christine Pacheco

Cover Artist: April Martinez

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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be

made to actual historical events or existing locations, the

names, characters, places and incidents are either the

product of the author’s imagination or are used

fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,

living or dead, business establishments, events, or

locales is entirely coincidental.

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“Then Daddy’d take your shorts down, put you

over his knee, and give you a good old-fashioned

spanking. You’d listen to Daddy then, wouldn’t you?”

“Mmm. Yes, Sir.” Aiden Cole tried to signal the

bartender for another gin and soda, making it too

obvious he was only half listening to Daddy.

He’d seen Daddy around here before and had

always felt privately grateful that the heavyset, bearded

top never approached him—until tonight.

The last ten minutes had confirmed Aiden’s

suspicion that Daddy was not particularly interesting or

arousing. Still, Obey didn’t hold many prospects on a

Monday night, and Aiden didn’t want to cast off the

possibility of spending tonight in short pants, squalling

theatrically while Daddy blistered his ass with what was

—Aiden had to admit—an impressively meaty palm.

Daddy-boy play freaked Aiden out a little. He’d

done two schoolboy scenes last week, but this little-boy

shit was a different ball game. Daddy was talking as

though he might require some thumb-sucking of Aiden

—not the kind of sucking Aiden liked to do.

Still, Aiden prided himself on his willingness to try

just about any scene. He had hard limits—blood,

needles, scat, rape—but one thing he loved about BDSM

play was the opportunity to take on new characters.

Naughty Boy Scout, palace slave, trembling virgin, high-

school slut… Aiden had played them all. It wasn’t exactly

the acting career he’d had in mind when he graduated

with honors from State University’s theater program last

year. He’d expected to be in New York or Chicago by

now, and he would be if he’d had the money. Aiden tried

not to let it get him down. He knew a lot of people who

took a gap year after graduation to travel, explore, and

“find themselves” before settling down and starting a

career. Aiden planned to spend this year discovering

what he truly wanted.

He glanced around the bar. A man sat alone at a

table in the corner. Surprisingly handsome—how had

Aiden missed him before? He was in his thirties, with

thick, light brown hair, wire-framed glasses, and eyes

that, even from a distance, suggested warmth and good

humor. His nose was perfectly straight, his lips full and

his jaw smooth and well-defined. Juxtaposed with this

almost delicate beauty was a firm masculinity. He didn’t

look like someone you’d want to tangle with. Aiden

could imagine those eyes going from warm to—not

cruel, not angry, but distinctly disapproving. Aiden got

the sense that a disapproving look was all this man

needed to cow an opponent.

The man caught Aiden’s eye and smiled briefly.

The smile wasn’t an invitation—the man quickly turned

back to the notebook he’d been writing in.
Who writes in a

leather bar
? Aiden watched him take a sip of his drink.

Something clear. Vodka? Gin?
Water?

Aiden was so intrigued and exasperated by the

man’s eccentricity that he almost wanted to sit down

across from him and start flirting up a storm, force the

man to stop writing. Buy him a whiskey. Get him buzzed

and hard…

“Out of your league,” Daddy said.

Aiden whirled. “What are you talking about?”

“Keaton Hughes. He’s out of your league.”

Aiden laughed. “No one’s out of my league.”

“All right, true enough. But if anyone was, it’d be

Keaton.”

“He’s not
that
hot.”

“Hot don’t make the top, honey.” Daddy gestured

to his own short, fleshy body. “Case in point. No, it’s not

his looks—though he is quite striking. It’s something

else. He’s not your typical top. Seen him in here once or

twice. Never takes anyone home. Never plays in the

basement.”

“But you’ve met him?” For the first time that

evening, Aiden was interested in what Daddy had to say.

“Yeah, nice guy. I’m just not sure what he wants.

Maybe he’s not sure either. Maybe that’s why he’s here.”

Keaton didn’t look like a man who was unsure

about anything. He was still writing in his notebook. He

looked up, and his gaze caught Aiden’s once more, for

just a second. The faintest smile appeared on his face as

he returned to his writing.

Aiden stood. Whatever Keaton Hughes wanted,

Aiden could give him. “Excuse me,” he said to Daddy.

He’d barely taken a step toward the corner when he felt

the energy shift in the club. He turned and saw

something that made his heart wobble and collapse.

Scott Runge.

In full regalia—black chaps, thick leather straps

crossing his broad chest at the gleaming steel ring

between his perfect pecs. He wore thick-soled boots that

Aiden knew he made his subs polish with their tongues,

and kept a quirt tucked casually in his waistband.

Aiden’s ass clenched at the memory of how much that

thing stung. Even Aiden, renowned in the leather

community for his ability to give head, hadn’t lived up

to Scott’s demands when they’d played in Obey’s

basement dungeon last month. Scott hadn’t hesitated to

pop Aiden’s ass with that quirt whenever he was

dissatisfied with Aiden’s performance.

Aiden forgot everything, even Keaton Hughes. He

crossed the room as though pulled by a giant magnet,

eyes down, until he stood inches from the enormous pair

of boots. He watched Scott’s weight shift from one foot to

the other, and he swallowed. He willed himself not to

look Scott in the eye.

Difficult, since Scott had gorgeous eyes—electric

blue, holding a promise of excitement and danger. Aiden

shivered at the memory of the first time he’d failed to

obey an order from Scott, and Scott had said in a quiet,

deadly voice,
“Look at me.”
Aiden had somehow forced

his gaze to meet Scott’s and, in an instant, saw the
pleasure

Scott took from being in control, from seeing Aiden

tremble, from preparing to make Aiden hurt.

You didn’t look Scott Runge in the eye unless you

were ordered to. And if you were ordered to, it was

pretty much a guarantee you were in trouble.

“Hello, Sir,” Aiden said softly, not sure if Scott

would hear him over the music.

There was no reply, and Aiden thought for sure

Scott hadn’t heard him or was purposely ignoring him.

Suddenly a large, warm hand closed over the back of

Aiden’s neck. Fingers threaded through his hair.

“What a pretty boy.” Scott’s voice rumbled. He

tilted Aiden’s chin up. “I remember you. You’re the one

who can’t suck cock worth a damn.”

Hot fury rose in Aiden. Scott would be hard-

pressed to find a top here who agreed with him. Aiden

prided himself on his ability to suck dick, and it

devastated him that Scott Runge, of all people, didn’t

appreciate his talents. “Yes, Sir,” he murmured.

“Back for round two, huh?”

How the taunt in Scott’s voice could seem so

alluring was beyond Aiden.

“Think you can please me this time?”

“I’d like to try, Sir,” Aiden said, lowering his head

again, aware of Scott’s fingers still in his hair.

Scott yanked, and Aiden gasped. His head shot up,

and he saw that more than a few people were watching.

He wondered fleetingly if Keaton Hughes was among

the spectators.

“What do you think, boys?” Scott asked the crowd.

“Think I should give this pretty kid one more chance to

please me?”

Agreeable laughter and light applause met his

question. Someone yelled, “Do it right here!”

The grip on Aiden’s hair was too tight to allow any

movement.

“What do you think, boy?” Scott growled in his ear.

“You coming home with me tonight?”

“Yes, Sir,” Aiden said. It was nothing like the