Kinky Sprinkles Read online

  Riptide Publishing

  PO Box 1537

  Burnsville, NC 28714

  www.riptidepublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All person(s) depicted on the cover are model(s) used for illustrative purposes only.

  Kinky Sprinkles

  Copyright © 2016 by L.A. Witt

  Cover art: G.D. Leigh, blackjazzdesign.com

  Editor: May Peterson

  Layout: L.C. Chase, lcchase.com/design.htm

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at Riptidepublishing.com, or at [email protected].

  ISBN: 978-1-62649-497-8

  First edition

  September, 2016

  Also available in paperback:

  ISBN: 978-1-62649-498-5

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  Joel has finally walked away from his abusive ex and is ready to meet new people. But that isn’t easy for a guy who’s shy, self-conscious, and struggling with his body image.

  Andre has wanted Joel since the first time he laid eyes on him, and finally Joel is single. But Andre is a Dom and a sadist, and Joel is unapologetically vanilla. There’s no happy medium—either Andre reins in the kinky side that took him years to accept, or Joel grits his teeth and subjects himself to kinks that aren’t his thing. No matter who bends, someone’s going to be unhappy.

  They agree to walk away, but they keep circling back to each other. Though their kinks might not line up, the chemistry between them sizzles and the emotional connection keeps getting deeper. But none of that will get them anywhere if they can’t find some kind of middle ground in the bedroom.

  About Kinky Sprinkles

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Dear Reader

  Also by L.A. Witt

  About the Author

  More like this

  Joel had gotten used to the absence of his collar, but today, his throat felt conspicuously naked. As he walked across the restaurant with his friend April, he resisted the urge to rub his neck in search of that thick leather strap. It was gone, and good riddance, but he was suddenly reminded of the precariously weightless feeling that accompanied driving without a seat belt. Not that the collar had ever made him feel safe and secure so much as owned and restrained, but joining this group without it was weird. So maybe the feeling was more like driving past a cop car and realizing he wasn’t wearing a seat belt. Well, hopefully no one would notice.

  Oh, but they did.

  As he approached the long table where the group always gathered, a few people looked at him, some doing double takes. They probably hadn’t expected to see him any more than he’d expected to show up.

  Still a safe distance away, he stopped and turned to April. “This is stupid. I don’t know why I’m here.”

  April touched his back. “Relax.”

  “I am relaxed.”

  “No, you’re not.” She gave him a gentle push. “You’re here because these are your friends.”

  Joel scowled. “This isn’t my crowd anymore. I don’t have anything in common with—”

  “Honey. We’ve been through this.” She exhaled sharply. “For God’s sake, no one here cares if you’re done with kink.” She waved a hand toward the group. “They’re just having lunch and a few beers. It isn’t like anyone’s going to try to collar you or cuff you to something.”

  Shuddering violently, he avoided her eyes and all of theirs.

  “Come on.” She squeezed his arm. “They’re just going to be happy to see you. Especially without Rob.”

  Joel pursed his lips. She had a point. His ex-boyfriend/Dom hadn’t been terribly popular among the members of their local dungeon. Joel was still fuzzy on what exactly had led to Rob being banned for life—that had happened sometime in the three months since they’d split—but at least he could be absolutely sure the asshole wouldn’t show up here.

  Just like I shouldn’t show up here. What am I doing?

  But April had persuaded him, insisting he needed to get his butt out of the house for a change and that everyone had been asking after him for weeks. And he had been lonely as hell lately. Part of that could be blamed on a job that didn’t lend itself to watercooler friendships, but his isolation was mostly thanks to his ex’s careful orchestration—he had no close friends in this town outside the kink community.

  Since Joel didn’t want to go to the dungeon, April had convinced him a munch wouldn’t kill him. He hadn’t been to one of these since his early, early days with Rob, and they’d always been kind of fun, so hey, why not? He’d promised her he’d come to one munch—one—and see how it went. The second someone started interrogating him about why he’d gone back to the vanilla side, though, he was done. Gone. Out. Good-bye.

  As he and April crossed the last bit of distance to the table, people started getting out of their chairs. They hugged April, and as Joel braced, heads turned toward him.

  “Hey, hey!” Nathan, an enormous bear with a Santa Claus beard, held out his arms. “Get over here. It’s good to see you!”

  Joel relaxed a little and hugged Nathan. The big guy had barely let him go before Lynn, who resembled a low-key librarian instead of the sharp-tongued Domme he was used to, came up and offered a hug as well.

  “We’ve all been worried about you,” she said, squeezing him tight. She pulled back, but held on to his shoulders and looked him right in the eye. “Have you been doing okay?”

  It was funny to hear her gently asking about him. She sounded even less like that hard-edged Domme and more like his mom making sure he’d been eating properly and getting enough sleep.

  Joel nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s, uh, been an adjustment, but I’m doing fine.”

  Her rigid features softened, and she hugged him again. “Good. Glad to hear it. I’m sure it’s been rough, but you’re better off.”

  He smiled tightly. Everyone had been telling him that ever since the night he’d finally walked out, and while they meant well, it annoyed him. He felt stupid enough for staying as long as he had with Rob. Every “you’re bet
ter off” hit him like, “What the hell took you so long, you fucking moron?”

  After several people had said hello to him, Joel took a seat beside April and picked up a menu. Well, things were off to a pretty good start so far. April was right—people did seem genuinely happy to see him, and no one had given him shit. Yet.

  He ordered a beer to relax his nerves a bit, and as he sipped it, he quietly watched the rest of the group. He had to admit, when it came to this bunch, he was a lot more comfortable in this environment than in the dungeon where everyone went at night. He couldn’t really blame them for that, though. At the dungeon, Rob had always required him to dress a certain way, which meant snug leather pants and no shirt. The bastard had insisted it was hot because it made Joel’s collar and attached leather leash more conspicuous. No one could have looked at him and not known he was Rob’s.

  Joel’s stomach knotted, and he fidgeted uncomfortably and tugged at his loose T-shirt. Being Rob’s submissive—more like his possession—had lost its novelty a long time ago, but more than anything, Joel had grown seriously tired of parading himself in front of this group. While they had no compunctions about strolling around in tight leather, fishnets, bondage harnesses, or whatever they were or weren’t wearing on a particular night, that was not and had never been his style. Not when he knew he’d be feeling like shit later for that extra ten, eventually fifteen, and ultimately twenty-five pounds he was flaunting for all to see.

  “When you let yourself go like that,” he could still hear Rob saying in the car on the way home a few months back, “it makes us both look bad.”

  Since their split, Joel had lost almost eight of those stupid pounds, but the rest would take time. It would be at least fifteen pounds in total before his shirt came off with the lights on.

  He scanned the group, and that uncomfortable knot slowly unwound. Everyone here was dressed down. His slightly oversized and deliberately untucked T-shirt didn’t make him stand out amongst the shorts, T-shirts, and tank tops. To anyone else in the restaurant, this bunch was a dozen or so people sharing some beer and some laughs while they soaked up the air-conditioning and escaped the thick June heat outside.

  “So.” April elbowed him. “Anything look good?”

  “What?” He eyed her. “I just got here. I’m not checking anyone out.”

  She rolled her eyes and tapped his menu. “I meant food.”

  “Oh. Right.” He looked down at the menu, which was still open and propped up against the table.

  “Hey.” She nudged him again, and her expression turned serious. “You okay?”

  He nodded. “Just getting used to being around this group again.” More like being around people in the first place.

  “I know. If you want to take off after we eat, just holler.” She paused, glanced around, and added a soft, “Or if you want to leave sooner.”

  “Thanks.” He focused on the menu again. Slowly, he started to relax. Knowing he had an easy escape was a plus. She wasn’t bullshitting either—if he said the word, they’d be out the door so fast his head would spin. It was one of the only reasons he’d been willing to come with her in the first place.

  Someone who honors a safeword. What a concept.

  He flipped through the menu’s pages until he found the salads. All the pastas—especially the baked ones dripping with cheese—sounded divine, but he’d been eating clean for the past month. The beer he was drinking was his one indulgence today. He’d be good. One moment of self-control closer to fitting into the clothes he hadn’t worn since the first year with Rob. Amazing how much easier it was to discipline himself into eating right and visiting the gym on a regular basis when it was his own thing rather than a way of trying to please Rob.

  Hmm. Greek salad. The feta probably isn’t—

  You know what? Fuck it. A handful of feta isn’t the end of the world.

  I ran three goddamned miles this morning and I haven’t touched those breadsticks. Gimme the feta.

  He closed his menu and sipped his beer.

  Some chairs were still empty. He didn’t know if that meant there were more people coming, or if they’d just overestimated how many chairs they would need. Despite himself, he was actually hoping more people were coming. Now that he’d shown up and realized people weren’t going to harangue him, he was eager to see some friendly faces. And maybe even talk to them. As it was, there were several conversations going on at the table. The bits and pieces he caught were about people’s jobs, tricks and hacks for keeping lawns green despite the county’s water-use restrictions, and what the hell was wrong with Jim’s Jaguar this time. April would probably jump into one of the conversations at some point, and she’d pull him in with her. Fine by him. For now, he was content to—

  “Oh my sweet Lord,” April said under her breath.

  “Hmm?” He turned. “What’s—”

  His heart skipped.

  Oh my sweet Lord, indeed.

  Across the restaurant, three familiar people had just walked in and were headed this way. Ginny, who was significantly shorter than he remembered—likely because she had on sneakers instead of her trademark gigantic suicide heels—and Brian, her ever-present submissive, who towered over her.

  But they just barely registered to Joel.

  Because behind them was Andre.

  Tall, tanned, black-haired Andre.

  It didn’t matter right then that Andre was a hard-core sadist and a Dom. Or that he lived and breathed kink. It wasn’t for nothing that this man had modeled his way through college and could still—even in shorts and a faded Metallica T-shirt—pull it off today.

  For the few moments it took for Andre to cross the restaurant, Joel let himself fantasize about being in his league. He let his heart flutter and his stomach somersault and his mouth water. If Andre could be persuaded to dabble in vanilla sex, Joel would be first in line to volunteer as tribute.

  Then their eyes met.

  And clearly Andre saw someone else, because his face lit up with the most gorgeous smile.

  “Joel?” He walked faster. “My God, is that you?”

  Joel’s heart stopped. “Me?”

  “Yeah, you.” Andre chuckled. “Come here. It’s been too long!”

  You know I exist?

  “Uh. Hi.” On shaky legs, Joel rose, and suddenly those tanned arms were around him. What cologne was that? And why did it make his head spin so fast?

  Andre pulled back and kept a hand on his shoulder as he looked him up and down, which made Joel want to shrivel up and die right then and there. He should’ve waited another ten or fifteen pounds to show his face. Maybe twenty to be safe.

  Meeting Joel’s gaze again, Andre said, “It’s really good to see you back here. We’ve all been worried.”

  Joel forced a smile, but his heart was sinking. Oh right. It wasn’t interest. Andre was just one more person who was happy to see that Joel had gotten out from under Rob’s thumb and made it back to the land of the living. Of course.

  Out of your league by a mile, remember?

  Still, it was nice that people here were concerned about him.

  “Well,” Andre said, squeezing Joel’s shoulder just before he withdrew his hand. “I’m really glad to see you. Are you coming back to the group, or . . .?”

  “Um.” Joel lowered his gaze. “I don’t think so. I’m just sort of, uh . . . trying to socialize, and . . .” And I don’t know anyone in this town because I wasn’t allowed to meet people after we moved here and— Joel cleared his throat. His face was already burning, so he reclaimed eye contact and made himself say, “I’m just hanging out. Not really doing the kink thing anymore.”

  “Oh.” Andre’s eyebrows jumped. “I . . . well . . .” He recovered quickly and smiled. “Either way, you’re always welcome here. Good to see you.”

  “Thanks.”

  They shook hands, and Andre continued saying hello to the rest of the group. As Joel took his seat again, April grabbed his arm. “You lucky bastard.”
<
br />   He laughed. “Oh come on. One more ‘Oh hey, you dumped the dipshit’ to add to the collection.” He rolled his eyes.

  She clicked her tongue. “Whatever. He never hugs me.”

  “Bring a dysfunctional relationship to the dungeon for a while, kick the asshole to the curb, disappear for a few months, and show up again.” He patted her arm. “You’ll get a hug for sure.”

  She laughed, but her expression quickly turned sympathetic again. “Honey, to be serious, the people here really do care about you. You get that, right?”

  “Yeah. I get it.” He paused. “And I can’t complain after getting a whiff of his cologne.”

  “Oh my God!” She threw up her hands. “You’re such a dick.”

  Joel chuckled. Okay, so maybe coming to this munch hadn’t been a bad idea. He already felt better than he had recently. And that spicy cologne sure as hell hadn’t hurt.

  People started shuffling around to make room for the new arrivals, and Andre sat down.

  Right across from Joel.

  Oh fuck.

  Joel stumbled his way through ordering his lunch even though he wasn’t sure he had an appetite anymore. He couldn’t decide which was more conspicuous—making eye contact with Andre, or deliberately avoiding it. Hell, he was probably overthinking it. Andre had just taken an available seat. It didn’t mean he was focused on or even gave two shits about Joel.

  Or . . .

  “So, Joel.” Andre wrapped his hands around his glass. “You’re really done with the scene? Completely?”

  Joel nodded, thumbing the label on his beer bottle. “It was fun for a while”—liar, liar, leather pants on fire—“but it turned out the whole kink thing wasn’t really for me after all.”

  “Well,” Paul interjected from a few seats over, “who wouldn’t be put off after the way Rob treated you?”

  Joel pursed his lips. “That’s . . . not really what happened, but it—”

  “Oh come on.” Paul shook his head. “We all saw it, kid.”

  “I know. He was a dick. But I—”

  “So he was the problem, not kink.” Paul shrugged. “Maybe you just need to come down this weekend. Get your feet wet again.”