BAD THINGS is LIVE
Monday, September 15, 2014
NEW RELEASE! Bad Things by Varian Krylov, author of Dangerously Happy
Xavier makes a lot of people nervous. The rest, he flat-out scares. More than his hulking, tattooed body, it's his predator's gaze that makes people feel vulnerable, as if he had the power to read their thoughts and see their soul. For his lovers, it's Xavier's ravenous appetite for all things carnal—for the taste of flesh under his tongue and the feel of a trembling body under his control, for whispered pleas and muffled cries—that makes him dangerous.
But recently, driven by a festering rage against the men who attacked his sister a decade ago, Xavier has developed a taste for a different kind of hunt and conquest: stalking men who do truly bad things and punishing the predators he sniffs out. The problem with vigilante justice, though, is sometimes the man in your trap is innocent.
Carson suspects he's playing a risky game with dangerous men. But the lies are convincing, especially when they're slipped to him among hundred dollar bills. He never guessed how big and dark the secret hidden under all the lies and money could be. And he has no idea he's not the predator, but the prey, until it's too late.
And you can't beg for mercy when there's a gag in your mouth.
But when Carson escapes from Xavier's trap, he's forced to accept that Xavier is far from his most dangerous enemy. Xavier may even hold the key to overcoming the painful past that has kept Carson prisoner for almost two decades.
But recently, driven by a festering rage against the men who attacked his sister a decade ago, Xavier has developed a taste for a different kind of hunt and conquest: stalking men who do truly bad things and punishing the predators he sniffs out. The problem with vigilante justice, though, is sometimes the man in your trap is innocent.
Carson suspects he's playing a risky game with dangerous men. But the lies are convincing, especially when they're slipped to him among hundred dollar bills. He never guessed how big and dark the secret hidden under all the lies and money could be. And he has no idea he's not the predator, but the prey, until it's too late.
And you can't beg for mercy when there's a gag in your mouth.
But when Carson escapes from Xavier's trap, he's forced to accept that Xavier is far from his most dangerous enemy. Xavier may even hold the key to overcoming the painful past that has kept Carson prisoner for almost two decades.
If you loved Dangerously Happy, and need more of Xavier (and a little visit from Dario and Aidan, too), you want Bad Things.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Contest ends tomorrow! Win a FREE EBOOK! Bad Things or Dangerously Happy
Win a FREE ebook: http://tinyurl.com/ksdouq5
Contest ends tomorrow!
Xavier makes a lot of people nervous. The rest, he flat-out scares. More than his hulking, tattooed body, it's his predator's gaze that makes people feel vulnerable, as if he had the power to read their thoughts and see their soul. For his lovers, it's Xavier's ravenous appetite for all things carnal—for the taste of flesh under his tongue and the feel of a trembling body under his control, for whispered pleas and muffled cries—that makes him dangerous.
But recently, driven by a festering rage against the men who attacked his sister a decade ago, Xavier has developed a taste for a different kind of hunt and conquest: stalking men who do truly bad things and punishing the predators he sniffs out. The problem with vigilante justice, though, is sometimes the man in your trap is innocent.
Carson suspects he's playing a risky game with dangerous men. But the lies are convincing, especially when they're slipped to him among hundred dollar bills. He never guessed how big and dark the secret hidden under all the lies and money could be. And he has no idea he's not the predator, but the prey, until it's too late.
And you can't beg for mercy when there's a gag in your mouth.
But when Carson escapes from Xavier's trap, he's forced to accept that Xavier is far from his most dangerous enemy. Xavier may even hold the key to overcoming the painful past that has kept Carson prisoner for almost two decades.
Friday, September 12, 2014
Thursday, September 11, 2014
5 STARS! Teodora Kostova reviews Bad Things
"Bad Things is an intense book on every level imaginable. It was very hard to read at times, the brutality of the situations painted so vividly by Varian’s exquisite writing, that I had to stop and take a breather... the intensity of Xavier and Carson’s relationship is indescribable. It’s not your usual romance, not at all. It’s brutal and passionate, sometimes violent, but always honest. I do not recommend this book for anyone who can’t handle anything darker than a fluffy, easy, sexy romance. The relationship between the MCs is quite unconventional... I recommend [Bad Things] wholeheartedly to anyone. It’s an emotional, intense story of two people trying to find themselves through each other. Two people not afraid to hurt and get hurt if the emptiness inside them will be filled again in the end. Oh, and there’s a pretty hot cameo by Aidan and Dario. Did I mention the sex in the book is off-the-charts hot?"
at Amazon
at Smashwords
Hot excerpts:
Bathing the hostage
Whipping Boy
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
WHIPPING BOY: Bad Things EXPLICIT excerpt
When
Xavier let himself into Carson’s room—not bothering to knock, of
course—Carson was sitting at the table by the window, doing
something on his computer, which he immediately closed.
Puta
Madre Maria,
it did something to him, the way Carson got to his feet and stood
there, silently looking at him, just waiting to submit to whatever he
said, whatever he did. The bulge of his stiffening dick already
deliciously obvious.
“Get
undressed.”
Fuck,
that trembling, aroused obedience. Xavier had never known anything
like it.
No
need to bark orders. All Carson needed was to know what he wanted. So
he spoke softly. “Get on the bed. On your hands and knees.”
Jesus
Christ, the sight of him, so anxious, so willing. So fucking hard.
This
time, Xavier'd had time to prepare. An experiment. A little push, to
see what else would open up, what other facet of Carson’s soul
could be brought out of shadow.
Each
wrist drawn in, under Carson's body, and tethered to his ankle.
Startling, how animal, how dehumanized a man could look, just by
forcing his body into a slightly unnatural contortion. Knees splayed
wide. Ass unavoidably lifted to display all the delicacies of his
undercarriage, especially when Xavier slowly pressed down on the
small of his back, getting that perfect curve and making Carson’s
cheeks spread that taunting, extra little bit.
He didn't blindfold or gag him. With his weight tipped forward like
that, his face was pretty much buried in the pillow. Half smothered,
half gagged. Unable to see Xavier.
“Were
you impatient, waiting for me tonight?” he asked quietly, forcing
Carson to strain to hear him as he ran just the tip of his finger
lightly down the shallow furrow, over his defenseless hole, thrilling
at the tremor running through Carson’s body. “Wondering when I’d
come? If I’d come?”
He
set the things he’d need on the bedspread, near Carson’s foot.
Climbing onto the mattress behind him—hell, it took his fucking
breath, the way Carson went stone still in nervous anticipation—he
laid his hands on those two gorgeous round cheeks. Even though his
asshole was right there in plain sight, he spread him open a little
wider, relishing the gasp and shudder he knew Carson would give him.
Xavier
plucked up the riding crop he'd bought that afternoon, at the sex shop inevitably located in every
urban downtown. For a moment, he felt the whip teeter on his palm,
getting a sense of its weight and balance, then grasped the handle
and whiffed the length back and forth through the air. A flimsy toy
compared to the one he had at home, but it would do.
Xavier
ran his hand over Carson’s hard dick, his hanging balls, his
exposed hole, drinking down the nectar of Carson's stiff, trembling
suspense, wondering if he'd guessed the significance of the sound the
crop had made as it had sliced through the air, or whether it was
pure suspense making Carson's body quiver like that. Then he brought
the leather tip of the crop down on the luscious left cheek of
Carson’s pale rump, good and fucking hard. So hard, Carson didn’t
just gasp. He squealed, hitting a weird high note as he sucked in his
breath. And after, there he was, trussed up, ribs going in and out
like a bellows. Xavier waited, watched the flame of red spread over
his smooth skin, watched the in-out of Carson’s breaths alter from
startled alarm, to the halt and gasp of anxious anticipation. And
Carson's sweet cock, engorged to the fucking limit.
His
own wasn’t exactly limp.
A
little more cruelly, he struck the other cheek. A few seconds later,
a blotchy red mark emerged. But even better, Carson’s neck and ears
were scarlet. His face, too, probably, but it was hidden in the
pillow. Pain. Humiliation. All those capillaries dilating, competing
with his cock for blood.
Xavier
sank his fingers into Carson's hair, pushed his face down into the
pillow, and hit him again. Again. Got him crying and squirming more
and more desperately, cock beautifully obscene, ruddy, veins swollen,
and, puta
pene maravillosa,
cockhead seeping.
When
the twelfth strike hit its mark, Xavier tossed the crop aside and
pounced on Carson with all the cruel hunger of those twelve weeks of
doubt, and the vicious want ripping through him with every stinging
whack of the crop against Carson’s rump, red and throwing off heat
like a frying pan. He grasped both cheeks, spread him wide, and
settled his mouth over Carson's hole, sliding the flat of his tongue
over his pucker in one long, slow stroke, Carson’s startled cry
making him fucking crazy.
“This
is how I like you, Carson. Ass in the air and spread wide like you’re
begging me to get in there and eat it. To stuff your hole with my
hard dick.”
He
reached under, got hold of Carson’s cock, and drew it back, between
his legs, until he had his hole, his balls, and his leaking dick all
in a nice, neat all-you-can-eat buffet line. When he licked, sliding
his tongue over that engorged, seeping crown, pressing down between
his balls, over his taint, over his hole, and up along the fuzzy
furrow of his ass, Carson writhed and moaned so beautifully, Xavier
could hardly fucking bear it. He went on eating, teasing and probing
his hole, sucking his balls, nursing at his plump cock head until
Carson whimpered his need to come. Then—fucking beauty—Carson
groaned into the pillow, convulsing, coming. Already. Crying and
bucking, knuckles white, lashed down by his feet. Xavier licked,
sucked, drank, swallowed. Delicious. He could have gone on eating him
forever.
Instead,
not even waiting for Carson’s warbling sighs or tremors to stop, he
rose up, got a condom on, greased up his hole—his cock rearing and
twitching at the feel of Carson’s sphincter grasping at his finger,
at the grunting noise he made as Xavier slowly penetrated him—and
got in there. Fucking God, Carson was tight. A tormenting strain,
every time, working his dick into the cruel grip of him. And so
fucking worth it.
Was
it too much? Riding him now, in that precarious post-orgasmic moment
when everything—body, brain and soul—is at its most sensitive?
Xavier bent over him, slid his arm around his neck, bracing against
his chest so he wouldn’t really choke him, just give him that
thrill of danger, of being taken. Now he could see him in profile,
mouth wide, animal grunts shaking out of him every time Xavier plowed
into him, brows knit. Body quivering in his arms. Total surrender as
Xavier fucked, as he came, growling and clawing, sinking his teeth
into the firm flesh just inside Carson’s shoulder.
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