A Taste of Sin

I promised you a taste of Sin City – my upcoming m/m BDSM crime drama. This one is a new little collection but only a few of the characters are going to remain the same. I do love writing about men who are damaged in several ways. See what you think…


“You’re one ugly mother fucker, Jace Williams.” He stood glaring as he puffed out his chest, a murderous look on his face. Jace was dead, entombed in a fiery grave sending his body and soul straight into hell. Jace was the monster. Jace was the madman. Jace was… Jace had been important. Now he was dead, murdered. The news said the rightSinCityDeception_Cover-small hand man of the notorious Santos family had been slaughtered in a drug deal gone bad. Yeah, that’s exactly what happened. Of course the entire incident had been planned. He was supposed to be dead. He’d been burned and he has a sinking suspicion it was from a dirty cop or worse. Thank God he’d gotten wind of what was coming down.

Cody Wallace placed both hands on the shower wall, lowering his head into the stream of water. Jace was nothing more than a loser, an asshole, but God damn it the man was connected. Jace was important and had known powerful people, had influential friends. Jace had money, clout and the best digs money could buy. Living high on the hog had been his ideal and the slick mobster Jace had become, a man known for his brutality in dealing with snitches, had it made. The name was going to be hard to let go. So was the money as well as the perks of the dangerous job. Too bad someone had figured out he was an informant. Or maybe they hadn’t but the fear was enough to pull his out. There was far too much to lose. But not in his life.

If he had to tell himself the truth, he kinda liked the name as well as the larger than life persona much more than the man hovering in the shower of one shitty motel. He could hear the cockroaches skittering around him. What the fuck was he doing here in seedyville? Hiding. Yeah, hiding from the bad guys or the ones purported to be on his side? He’d lost that clue a hell of a long time ago. Drugs and prostitution had certainly afforded him the finger things in life.

Steam had filled the shower and he was hoping the hot water would manage to cleanse his body, if not his damaged soul. Closing his eyes he realized he was shivering. No amount of heat, fire or brimstone was going to warm any aspect of him any time soon. As the pummeling stream cascaded over his body, he shifted and looked down at his torso and legs. Nearly covered in bruises, he looked like he’d been in the world of boxing instead of undercover work. The thought made him laugh out loud. He’d been hired to protect and serve from two completely different organizations. What struck him funny was that he wasn’t certain which one was more corrupt.

How much shit had he seen and experienced from day one of being under? How many cops had he seen on the take? He’d been lucky as shit none of the beat cops had recognized him. His look had changed over the two years, hiding the man behind the brooding eyes. His chameleon methods had kept him alive. Yet someone had been digging. That much he’d learned from his Captain. The rest was all hearsay and innuendos. The take down had happened so damn fast. He exhaled slowly, replaying the ugly events. Jace had been the cool one. Cody, the decorated detective, the man male lovebent on revenge. Maybe the real man had taken over at the end.

“Fuck me.” The sad truth was he didn’t even know any longer who was the good guy or the asshole. He’d been so deep undercover for so damn long he had no connections to the outside, no real friends. Other than drug dealers, hired killers and members of what some called a family, there was no one who even knew him any longer. Family. The men and women he’d been around had been nothing but a group of monsters disguising themselves as socialites.

He lifted his head, opening his mouth. The reason why he’d been pulled was clear. His cover was getting ready to be blown. Better to think of the Santos right hand man as being gunned down protecting one of their own versus the exposure. There wasn’t a muscle in his body that wasn’t aching like a son of a bitch. He’d aged in the two years and the gaunt face and black eyes showed just how jaded and empty he’d become. Becoming a part of the system had debased him of all emotions. He’d become a drone and nothing more. He had to perform like a freaking monkey or face certain death. And you loved it. “Fuck you.”

Leaning back against the side of the shower, Cody wasn’t surprised his cock was rock hard. He’d been horny for months, no opportunity for letting go presenting itself. Then again, he wasn’t certain he’d have screwed any of the people he’d spent all his time with over the horrific months. And his concern didn’t have anything to do with the concept of disease. The men he’d been working for hated faggots with a passion, even though so many of them enjoyed the bump and grin with members of the same sex on a regular basis.

Wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, he pumped all the way to the tip, squeezing his cockhead with enough pressure an involuntary moan slipped past his lips. The friction was delicious, the feel of his rough hand sending shivers down his spine. He thought about Jace, about the nights of pleasure he’d endured. Endured. Christ. Who the hell was he kidding? Having women suck his dick was entirely different than men and the fact he had to perform like some circus freak, fucking when required continued to turn his stomach. But he’d performed every act of kinky sex, brutality and even rape as necessary. The Santos family expected nothing else but pure savagery.

Cody slid his hands between his legs, cupping and clenching his swollen balls. He opened his legs as wide as they would go and stroked his cock fervently, savoring the slice of pain coursing through his body. He’d been set free from his tethering, or so the Brass had told him. Now he honestly had no fucking idea what he was going to do with himself or what would happen with his career. Here he was in a seedy motel, laying low until the last vestiges of his ‘death’ was settled. The Santos family would be checking what had happened. Of that he was certain.

There was something primal about his action, his hand literally sucking cum from his balls, needing the release tonight more than ever before. Harder and faster he pumped, the friction becoming raw anguish. He had to cum. He needed to cum. Dear God he begged to cum, to be set free from the self imposed prison. He needed a hard fuck by a man, a heightened level of kink and one that would draw him completely into the darkness. Expecting the climax to race up from his toes, nothing happened. His penis was aching, the feeling much more of pain than any level of pleasure, yet he couldn’t release.

Groaning, he leaned forward then slapped his back against the tile. Here he was in a seedy motel surrounded by the sin of man and he couldn’t even freaking masturbate. He was a pathetic asshole. Exhaling slowly, the sound of his rattled breath wasn’t more bondagesurprising. The rapid beating of his heart was. He was afraid. Him. After all the gunfights and all the methods of pure danger, he was terrified to live normally.


What sins of the flesh do you hunger for and exactly what would you offer in order for a taste? 

For entrepreneur Taynen Salinger, Sin City meant more than simply paying homage to the sizzling desert town. The highly respected and equally selective firm, catering to men who lived vicariously every day, had made him a millionaire. A tough taskmaster, anonymity was the name of the game in a town where mistakes could prove to be deadly. Providing everything from well-coiffed escorts for premier events to the kinkiest of fantasies, only the amount of monies spent held any inhibition. His employees were hand picked and specially trained in the areas of art and music, politics and finance, fine dining and wine – as well as the black arts of BDSM.

For the men of distinction, protecting a town ridden with questionable politics, crime-ridden streets and difficult financial times, Sin City was more than just a respite. Only Taynan’s carefully selected men seemed to soothe the savage beasts dwelling inside his clients. For some of his customers, understanding the ramifications of certain decisions made had proven to be costly, yet the men came back for more. However, in a town where everything is on the menu for a loaded price, what happens within the hallowed city limits must stay locked inside Pandora’s Box. Or else…


For Cody Wallace, life as an undercover DEA agent had garnered him respect, but he was weary from enduring the seedy life on the ugly streets of Reno. His last case had taken him deep inside a family of drug lords for almost two years. Arriving back in Las Vegas, he was forced to hide out for fear of retribution. Battle weary and hungry for companionship, finding a lover who could tolerate his arrogance and desire for the darker side of sex had proven to be next to impossible.  A secret recommendation had brought him to Sin City and he was instantly taken with the owner’s personal selection. After all, the man personified dark and dangerous.

Ruger Collins was an ex-Green Beret and was well versed in methods of torture. Known as the toughest of the Sin City men, he specialized in providing aspects of perceived peril for those craving a moment of euphoria. Few could handle his raw brutality and fewer still came back for more. Cody was the exception. Embarking on a steamy adventure, their time together was cut short when Cody was called back into service. After a series of mistakes proved to be costly for Cody, he was forced to trust Ruger with his life. Drawn into a world of pure evil, the art of deception managed to keep them both alive – that is until one man unraveled the secret and the threat became real.

I so hope you enjoyed…

Kisses and spanks


About Cassandre Dayne

Cassandre Dayne is the pseudo for the best selling author of romantic suspense and thrillers
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