Read Don't... 04 Backlash Online
Authors: Jack L. Pyke
Tags: #Romance, #Thriller, #Gay, #England, #Contemporary, #mm, #mi5, #ffp
Don't... 04 Backlash
In the aftermath of Jack Harrison’s release
from the psychiatric unit, Gray Raoul’s first instinct is to take
brutal revenge on the one responsible for financing Jack’s and
Jan’s torturous psychological reconditioning. However, that person
plays the game dangerously well, knows exactly how to manipulate
everyone in Gray’s life. To help negotiate this delicate situation,
Gray contacts ex-Diadem Doms Trace and Gabriel Hunter. But the more
Gray seems to regain control, the clearer it becomes that there’s
something not quite right about Jan Richards. Jan quickly unravels,
taking Jack and Gray with him, and bringing out one particularly
deadly player. Gray’s left with one last defence: break Jack down
in order to partner up with his alter ego, Martin. But once freed,
Martin has plans of his own, and he wants to make it personal with
Gray. Complete trust between Master and sub, between Gray and Jack,
will be tested to the absolute limit. (M/M)
Don’t
… Book 4
Jack L. Pyke
ForbiddenFiction
www.forbiddenfiction.com
an imprint of
Fantastic Fiction Publishing
www.fantasticfictionpublishing.com
Copyright 2016 Jack L. Pyke
Smashwords Edition
BACKLASH
A ForbiddenFiction book
Fantastic Fiction Publishing Hayward, California
© Jack L. Pyke, 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be
used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission from
the publisher, except as allowed by fair use. For more information,
contact [email protected].
CREDITS
Editor: Rylan Hunter and D. M.
Atkins
Cover Design: Siolnatine
Cover Photo: Robertprzybysz at Dreamstime.com.
Production Editor: Erika L Firanc
Proofreading: Jae Knight
SKU: JP2-000262-01 SW
ISBN: 978-1-62234-273-0
Published in the United States of America
This book is a work of fiction which contains explicit erotic
content; it is intended for mature readers. Do not read this if
it’s not legal for you.
All the characters, locations and events
herein are fictional. While elements of existing locations or
historical characters or events may be used fictitiously, any
resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental.
This story depicts fictional BDSM; it is not
intended to be used as an instruction manual. It contains
descriptions of erotic acts that may be immoral, illegal, or
unsafe. The characters are not models for the Safe, Sane and
Consensual forms embraced by most current practitioners of BDSM.
The author takes license with the use of BDSM for dramatic effect.
Do not take the events in this story as proof of the plausibility
or safety of any particular practice.
To Lynn
1.
Gray
5.
Silence
9.
Trust
14.
Backdraft
15.
The Invited
17.
Left in Hell
18.
Hard Lessons
19.
Dom to Sub
21.
Allies
24.
Box Clever
25.
United Fall
26.
Deceit
28.
Richards
30.
Checkmate
32.
Claimed
33.
Taken
34.
The Master
35.
Controlled
36.
The Fall
37.
Martin
38.
Provocateurs
39.
The Funder
40.
The Known
41.
Mourning
42.
Nos Da
Sut mae
? — (North Wales) How are
you?
Shw mae
— (South Wales) Hello
Nos da
— Goodnight
Nhad
— Father
Fy nhad
— My father
Hen wlad fy nhadau
— “Land of My
Fathers” (the Welsh national anthem)
1
Gray
“These violent delights have violent
ends.”
—
William Shakespeare
In the
darkness of the black Mercedes-Benz, Gray Raoul wiped a hand over
his face and eased back into the comfort of his seat. The digital
clock that weaved its way into the finely leathered-upholster of
his dashboard whispered he’d sat in his car on the roadside outside
his manor for a while now. The fading light already kissed the dark
interior of the Mercedes, eagerly spreading out the differing
shades of oncoming darkness and willing them to snake over the
road, all in a desperate bid to play
come fuck about with me in the woods
now.
The line was so
fine: the quiet space between tyre and tree line, between what was
morally acceptable and every natural instinct to regress and run
with the psychopaths.
He should have
welcomed the quiet over the past month since Jack and Jan had been
back after Jack’s release from the MC’s psychiatric facility, but
the reality was that if the Funder was skilled enough to manipulate
postal delivery and ensure Gray received footage of rape and
torture, then they could slip under any surveillance network.
So the
invitation was made as clear as possible.
That made what
he was doing now, what? Solicitation? Whoring Jack and Jan out to
further risk knowing something had him sitting here, willing it to
crawl out of the cracks?
That bastard
tag crept up, and Gray let his look linger on the woods. Because
what lay in the other direction, past his Mercedes, through the
gates, and up the long driveway to the cobbled courtyard, keeping
the warmth between his silken sheets...? Jack... Jan....
The manor
offered every welcoming sign. Soft lights shone from the numerous
windows and a porch lamp waved the weary in from the chilly of late
August winds, both occasionally brushed by the sweep of changing
colour from the fountain. The soft light added a rippling effect to
everything it touched, calming life and kaleidoscoping the night in
changing colour, but....
But?
Gray let the
stillness of the keys in the ignition hold his thoughts, shutting
everything out as a soft vibration made itself known from the
mobile phone in his pocket. It took another two soft pulses and
burying the rush of bile that turned his stomach for him to shift
and look at the instant messaging.
Sut
mae?
The Welsh
caught him off guard, giving that deep tug that had him almost out
of the car and losing what little he’d eaten.
Sut
mae?
It came
again.
You keep
ignoring my question. So in English, then, eh?
It tumbled
through a moment later.
How
are you?
Gray frowned,
running a thumb over the screen.
I
know you’re sitting outside of the manor when you should be inside.
Talk to me, damn it.
Trace.
Gray briefly
closed his eyes. Not long after Jack had been sectioned and Jan had
distanced himself, Trace’s texts had come in weekly to start off
with. After Gray had walked away, he hadn’t wanted the connection
back to that life, not to Jack, not to Jan, not to Trace. The
messages had carried thin strains of anger, mostly reason, and Gray
had hated Trace’s reason. A good ten years older, Trace had come a
long way as a Dom in his own right, and that was the tone and quiet
tonicity of his messages: one Dom trying to reason out past
fuck-ups with another. Or just caring enough to ask—
Sut
mae?
Outside of Jack
and Jan, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked him
how he was, and that deep tiredness crept back in, bone deep,
pulling him home and maybe needing that strong taste of whiskey
now.
Still
the silent treatment?
How about something easier to break that fucking mood of
yours, then?
asked
Trace.
Gray rested an
arm against the rim of the window screen and wiped a thumb over his
lips.
Will
they get to see the letter you’ve got on you?
Gray
frowned.
Because hard lessons over intercepting Jack’s mail have
been learned over the past year, right? No matter how
unintentionally that cocky bastard keeps fucking hurting
you?
The weight of a
pearl white envelope was there in Gray’s pocket. Three names
printed themselves on the front, the calligraphy and press of ink
pen suggesting only one overall source, but the letter lay covered
up, unopened, out of sight. Not only from Jack and Jan, but....
Who’s
your contact, Trace?
he finally thumbed into the phone.
Because you know this is still none of
your business.
Nothing, then
from Trace—
You?
IMing?
Quiet.
Hitting a nerve there, bright eyes? If the position was
reversed, you’d be on the phone, calling me out on
this.
Gray
ignored the press of the envelope now.
Yeah? Pass Nicholai my thanks. And, by the
way, tell him to fuck off back into his corner of the globe before
he prods enough to really piss me off.
Gray rubbed at his eyes, knowing how hard
that sounded. But it wasn’t directed at Trace, not even at an
ex-Master, just... just....
I
know you’re hurting, and I’ll ignore your Master-Dom-ass mouth
because of it. But you err on the edge of unprofessional conduct
with fuckin’ a Master Dom’s sub (I get to do a twirl here, right?)
as you were just learning to fasten the chains, and it stands to
reason the Master Dom would always keep tabs on you for... fucking
his sub. Would you be any different if it was Jack?
Gray
snorted a smile.
So
little trust from people, nowadays. So little
respect.
