About Need
Author: Sean Michael
Word Count: 60200
Page Count (pdf): 210
ISBN: 978-1-988377-32-2
Date Published: Second Edition, January 20, 2017
Publisher: Sean Michael
Price: $4.99
Genre: Paranormal
Pairing: M/M
Series name and number: Need Series book 1
Heat Rating: 
File types in .zip – pdf, mobi and epub
Summary:
When Bast picks up Trick, a street hustler with few prospects, Trick is prepared to play along, to have some fun. He figures he’s got a good thing going with free room and board, so why rock the boat? What he’s not prepared for is falling in love. Good thing for him the obsession is shared on both sides, Bast falling for him just as quickly, needing him just as much as Trick needs Bast.
Trouble waits just around the corner for them, though. Bast is far older than Trick can even imagine, and has another lust that’s just as pressing as his love for Trick. Trick thinks it’s all fun and games for a while, but he learns soon enough that certain things about Bast’s life are deadly serious. And deadly.
Will Bast’s vampire nature drive them apart? Or can Trick accept that need takes all forms, and give himself to Bast completely? Find out in the Sean Michael Classic.
This is a reprint – the publisher has changed.
Excerpt:
Chapter One
Early evening and the sun was already gone. The hardest days of winter were coming, breathing down the back of his neck like a cold john who just wanted to fuck him over. Trick was out early. There wasn’t anyone looking for a little back-alley fun yet, and it would be hours before the guys in their uptown cars started cruising by.
On the other hand, he was also the only working stiff for five blocks, and he walked it like he owned it. If anyone did show, they were his. Which was damned good because his belly was getting just a little bit on the empty side and being too hungry made you do stupid things.
He walked easily, arms swinging at his sides, pretending he had somewhere to be.
Some sort of new band must be playing at the No Name Bar—there was already a fucking line. Weird. Trick’d been in there before: watered-down whiskey, crabby bartender, no doors on the bathroom stalls—he fucking hated blowing a guy in an open-doored stall—and a cramped, cracked dance floor.
He let his gait slow as he moved past the line. Maybe one of them was looking to warm up before seeing the band.
Trick caught the eye of a kid. Fuck, the boy was what? Fourteen? Sixteen if he was a day? Dark purple hair like a goddamned doll, the boy’s spare frame was completely encased in skin-tight leather beneath the heavy violet fur coat. He was made up, eyeliner and lipstick, but not girly, not at all. More like an art show—one of those club kids who spent their lives and their spare change moving from one dance to another. Not a good choice.
Then again, that leather was top-dollar.
He offered the kid a smile, letting his body speak for itself. Trick knew he looked good, all in black, tight T-shirt showing beneath the open leather jacket. Fuck, it was cold.
The interest flared—and he meant that. It really seemed to change those dark eyes and angled face, but he couldn’t tell how. The kid leaned back and spoke to a group of much older players, and every single one of them looked over at him as if they shared a brain, looking at him with curiosity.
Well, shit, he didn’t mind a threesome, but he wasn’t gonna take a whole group. Benny had been in the hospital for a week after a group wanting blowjobs turned out to be the prelude to getting gangbanged. Still, he let his eyes travel up and down
the kid’s body, letting him know he was interested in that, and sauntered on past the line.
By the time he reached the end of the line without a bite, he figured the new band must be fucking fabulous for these assholes to stand out in the cold. No boot steps followed him, no one hurried after him.
Fuck.
Then a touch came to his elbow, and a smooth as fucking glass voice sounded. “So, Sweets. What games do you like to play?”
He turned with a grin. It was the kid. Fuck, but he looked good. Rich and sexy. Trick could have himself set for the week if this evening went right.
“What have you got in mind?”
“Well, I intend to get laid, but I want to play first.”