Kaz and Damien, Book One
Genre: Mystery and Detective, Gay Romance, Gay fiction
Imprint: Ai Press
Cover art: Louca Matheo
Boston homicide detective, Frank Kazaminsky does not want to stand around alone in a gay strip club . . . that is, until the next act comes onstage. Damien is the hottest guy Kaz has ever laid eyes on and he watches, completely mesmerized, as Damien strips down to a scanty G-string.
Unfortunately Kaz isn’t the only one who lusts after Damien’s luscious body. Another man wants Damien, whether Damien is willing or not, and Kaz must come to the rescue. Damien finds in Kaz the first person who’s ever protected him . . . and Damien has needed protecting in the past, desperately. The attraction between them is mutual and flares into lustful, delicious passion.
When Damien’s attacker turns up dead, Kaz must find the killer quickly. Otherwise Damien will go from being the love of Kaz’s life to the top of his list of suspects.
Publisher’s note: This book was previously published at Ellora’s Cave.
Coffee Time Romance Reviews Recommended Read
Sedonia Guillone once again showcases her amazing talent with Barely Covered. Damian is a wonderfully developed character that Sedonia makes all too human to the reader and clearly shows that being a stripper is more than the sum of their job. The investigation into the would be rapist and ultimate victim is conducted wonderfully and it is so very hot that Kaz puts his career on the line for the stripper he only spent one night with. Frank is a hero truly worthy of praise. Barely Covered should be savored; it is as delicious as the finest wine.
Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance & More
Boston, Massachusetts, thirteen years ago
Where was that jerk?
Kaz looked at his watch. Forty minutes was long enough to wait in a smoke-filled, noisy corner of this gay strip club Steve had talked him into as a meeting place. Pretty ballsy, especially knowing Kaz was leery of being here.
It wouldn’t look good for one of Boston’s finest to be ogling nearly naked men writhing their hips and asses onstage, even on his own time.
Kaz pulled his beeper from his pocket. It was Steve. Finally.
Fighting his way through the crowd, he found a pay-phone by the men’s room. Setting his drink down on top of the phone, he dialed. The sound of the club was muted a bit, so he could hear when Steve picked up on the second ring.
“Steve, where the hell are you? Are you all right?” Kaz plugged his other ear so he could hear over the crowd.
“Oh Kaz! Damn. Sorry. I…got tied up. You know how it is.” Steve sounded a bit sarcastic and Kaz swore he could hear another guy in the background asking who Steve was talking to. In any case, the message was clear—the casual thing they had wasn’t working and Steve was trying his fortune with someone new, someone who wanted the real thing. The guy was passive-aggressive that way, Kaz had learned in recent months.
Anger surged hot but then Kaz took a deep breath. Maybe he couldn’t completely blame Steve. Steve wanted to be more important to Kaz than Kaz’s career—or at least as important. But with the bad press the Boston Police Department had been getting lately over its “failure” to bring in murderers, being a detective in the BPD homicide unit took more hours than he had to give. “Yeah,” he said finally, “I know how it is.”
Steve paused. The guy in the background called to him again. “Just a second,” Steve told the stranger then, “Kaz, is that it?”
Kaz exhaled. The impulse rose to leave and go to him, but then it faded. No sense in stringing Steve along. He could be a jerk sometimes, but he didn’t deserve to be hurt. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”
Another pause. “If you say so. Bye, Kaz.”
“Bye.” He hung up the receiver and picked up his glass. It hurt to have disappointed Steve, but better now than when they had a place together, two dogs and a joint bank account. To break off with him then would be just plain cruel.
Time to go. He went on duty at five the next morning, so better just to get home. Making his way back out to the main part of the club, he looked toward the entrance and huffed. The place was so mobbed it would take an hour just to get to the damn door.
“And now, gentlemen,” the announcer said over the cheering crowd gathered in front of the dance platform, “pure hard-on material is coming onto the stage in two seconds. Get ready to drool, guys, and give a warm welcome to…Damien!”
The crowd went wild, arms raised, practically rushing the stage. The sinewy, erotically driven beat of Berlin’s Sex started playing and colored lights blinked rapidly from one side of the platform to the other, making a light show in the center of the stage.
The press of the crowd forced Kaz back toward the wall. Oh well. He decided not to jostle his way out and instead leaned against the sidewall, avoiding the crush of horny guys waving bills. This Damien guy seemed pretty popular, having roused the biggest cheers of the night so far. With an eye to the stage, Kaz took a sip of his Perrier, his cop instincts having told him to remain sober from the second he’d walked into the place. Club Moritz might be Boston’s premier gay strip club, brawny bouncers and all, but there was a feeling here Kaz didn’t like. Something smarmy that had nothing to do with…
The spotlight panned to the far side of the stage where one arm appeared from the dark shadows. The mere sight roused another round of cheers, whoops and hollers. Kaz sipped his mineral water again. Theatrics had never impressed him.
“Come on! Get the hell out here!” someone nearby shouted.
Kaz’s gaze jerked to the owner of the voice, a big blond steroid monster in jeans and a t-shirt, drunk off his ass. Probably high too. Kaz had seen his type not make it into the police academy. Too much pumping iron mixed with steroid injections had drained all the blood from his brain. Kaz was big too, but being brawny didn’t mean a guy had to be a shithead. Had Kaz not been off-duty, he would have gone over there and questioned him in suspicion of being under the influence.
More cheers drew Kaz’s attention back to the stage. This Damien guy was in full view now.
Whoa. Kaz’s heart lurched. He lifted away from the wall and stared at the man, gaze glued to a strip of sinewy chest and abs just visible between the flaps of a billowy white shirt. Sweat gleamed on Damien’s skin and on the soft hairs glinting on his pecs. Kaz swallowed hard and he gaped openly at the treasure trail funneling down the center of Damien’s abs.
Damien moved then, flipping his head back. That drew Kaz’s look back up. Shaggy hair, the color hard to discern under the multicolored lights, framed Damien’s chiseled face. Damien wore a big sexy smile and his large eyes flashed with promise. Wow, those were some eyes, heavy-lidded yet full of life.
That wasn’t all, Kaz noticed, scanning the guy’s face as Damien drew closer to his side of the stage. Damien’s face was movie star perfection—softly sculpted lips, straight nose with one small bump, gleaming white teeth, right down to a tantalizing cleft in his perfect chin. As he danced across the stage and turned his back, his body-hugging black pants, shiny and smooth, set off his hard round ass so perfectly it almost appeared they were painted on. When he slunk back around to face the audience, those shiny pants did the same for that perfectly outlined package in front.
Hot damn. Kaz’s mouth watered. If Damien was supposed to make a guy drool and want to fit that cock in his mouth, he succeeded.
The beat of the song thumped through the air, made the ground vibrate, a backdrop to the jeers and catcalls of the nearly all-male audience. Damien danced back toward the middle where he halted center stage, took hold of either side of his shirt and yanked it open.
That tiny move earned another round of testosterone-filled yells. Kaz could only stare, frozen, as Damien slipped one arm of the shirt partway down, exposing a muscled shoulder. In time to the music, he wound his hips and then his upper body, making the shirt fall open just enough to reveal a coin-sized nipple.
Hot blood pumped through Kaz’s chest and gut, right down into his cock. He’d been watching hot guys strip up there for the last half-hour or so, but this Damien guy…
“Get those fucking pants off!” ’Roid monster’s drunken jeer sounded over the rest of the crowd.
What a frigging douche bag. For some strange reason, Kaz found himself hoping Damien hadn’t heard the lewd remark.
If Damien heard the guy, he gave no indication. He was busy teasing the crowd, whipping them into a froth. Slowly, sensuously he lowered the other arm of his shirt, exposing both shoulders, his chest and part of his chiseled abs. All the while those slim hips never stopped winding.
Kaz blinked. When he opened his eyes, Damien’s shirt was off his torso and flying into the crowd, into a sea of reaching hands where it disappeared. Kaz salivated some more, wishing he’d caught the shirt. The urge to press it to his face and breathe in Damien’s scent seized him.
Shit! What the hell was going on with him? Since when did he want to smell a guy he’d never met?
There wasn’t time to wonder about it. Damien’s entire upper body showed now. The spotlight overtook the multihued lights, giving Kaz a glimpse of Damien’s real coloring—hair, a rich chestnut, skin tanned, nipples the color of warm cinnamon. And eyes… Damien turned and wound his way downstage again, in Kaz’s direction, making Kaz especially grateful for his hawklike eyesight…eyes—a rich shade of green.
The guy was magnificent.
Kaz’s heartbeat sped up and heat simmered between his t-shirt and skin. Even the blond ’roid monster’s lewd yelling close by faded into the background as Damien continued to dance.
Hands locked behind his head, Damien ground his hips in sensual circles, turning front and back, driving his audience to a pitch. Dollar bills cascaded through the air, showering the stage like paper rain.
Damien’s face broke into a wide, dazzling grin. He halted, both hands on one side of his waist.
The crowd roared.
Kaz gulped. Damien was working open his pants from the side. The black material hid a zipper that…inch by inch Kaz could see ran the length of Damien’s leg.
Slowly, torturously in time to the sinuous beat of the music, Damien lowered the zipper.