Mike Antonio has always been a fighter -- a tough guy from the streets of Boston whose rough exterior hides a tender heart and a desire for love. He didn't expect a glance from one man to change his entire life.
Cory Chow is the world's top underground fight club star and a sex slave to his owner. Cory hates his life and one sympathetic glance from the brawny stranger on the sidelines makes Cory realize what he's missing. Cory will do whatever it takes to escape his owner and find the love he craves.
But the owner of a million-dollar baby isn't going to let go of his slave so easily and both Cory and Mike will face the fight of their lives.
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November 13, 2009
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Excerpt from A Man for Michael by Sedonia Guillone
Straining to see the gate through the lunge of bodies, Mike saw the star of the evening emerge at the pit entrance and caught his breath.
So unexpected was Mike's physical response that he began to shiver.
The Chow looked to be about five-foot-eight or so, his dark hair shorn almost to his scalp. Even through the press of the crowd, Mike could see the guy's physical beauty emanating like a light. His skin, the color of roasted almonds, offset the sleekness of his muscles. His torso tapered into a V-shape and his shoulders were surprisingly broad for his stature. His hairless pecs were round and hard, the dark gold skin and brown nipples gleaming under the lights.
His face was a beautiful mask of intensity, and he stared at his opponent from large almond-shaped eyes. His full lips were parted, his breathing hard, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. Below he wore a pair of ratty-looking baggy pants and black slip-on shoes, the kind that guys wore in kung-fu films.
Mike's heartbeat rose and something inside told him it wasn't from anticipation of the fight. He found his gaze riveted on the Chow's face, to the intensity blazing in his large eyes. Sweat erupted on Mike's body that wasn't only from the hot press of the crowd. The sensation of arousal curled in his groin and his cock twitched and started to harden.
That's when he saw it.
A collar like a bulldog would wear, its shiny spikes glinting in the lights, was fastened around the Chow's neck. Okay, Mike would have dismissed such an article as a gimmick. But then he saw the collar was attached to a leash, the other end of it held by a large goon, also in an expensive suit. No doubt that suit had also been bought by the Chow's sweat and blood.
A sick feeling rose in the pit of Mike's stomach at the sight of the leash, the bile churning in sharp contrast to the unexpected fanning of desire in his entire body. He swallowed hard, the roar of the crowd around fading to the background in his consciousness. It was just like a scene in a movie the way he blocked out the chaos and bloodlust around him to concentrate his attention solely on the Chow.
In the next moment, the goon holding the leash reached out and unclipped it. Before Mike could blink, the Chow bounded into the ring and leapt through the air. His hard, powerful body sailed in defiance of gravity, and one kung-fu shoe-clad foot pounded into his opponent's beefy chest.
Leather Man staggered back, his mouth open in a stunned expression. He hit the chain link wall and growled. After a moment he gathered himself and charged the Chow. The Chow twisted and turned, avoiding the large body hurtling toward him and took a running jump. He ricocheted off the chain link wall and delivered another sharp kick.
Once again, Leather Man staggered back. To the galoot's credit, he put up a lengthy, exciting fight. But the Chow's punches, flying kicks and chops finally did him in. One last kick from the Chow left Leather Man in a heap in the center of the pit. The crowd's thundering practically made the earth shake.
Donnie lumbered into the pit and held one of the Chow's rippling arms up in the air to another rousing thunder of hurrahs. He turned the Chow this way and that, and Mike was captured by the sight of the Chow's chest heaving from the adrenaline of the fight. Sweat gleamed off the Chow's smooth, cut muscles, seizing Mike with the most wicked desire to lick the salty moisture right off the Chow's skin.
Donnie turned him some more and the Chow's gaze came even to where Mike stood.
Their gazes locked. Mike could swear the Chow was staring right at him.
Donnie went to move the Chow to another angle, giving the crowd a view of the glorious victor. However, the Chow yanked his hand back and stared at Mike. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds that they watched each other, but shit, however long it was, was too damn short. Mike could have stood there indefinitely.
Mike blinked and in the space it took his eyelids to shutter, the Chow had turned and paced back to the entrance of the pit where he stood, waiting like a trained animal for the suited guy to clip his leash back on.
Mike stood there, gaping, wondering at how the Chow let this man lead him away in the direction of the holding room, as if the Chow had not just pummeled a man more than twice his size into the ground. They made no show of his bound state, conveying the lack of gimmick in it.
The sudden nearly overwhelming urge to follow them and get the Chow away from his captor seized Mike, but he had to stay by the pit-cage and keep the razzers from starting chaos. The jostling and razzing was rampant this night as any number of idiots wanted to bully their way into the cage pit to fight the Chow. Once that task was done, Mike went back to the holding room, but the Chow was long gone.
Finally the session was over. Noodle and Mike received their cut, which was generous indeed, and the two of them caught a cab back to Allston. The entire ride, Mike listened to Noodle's ramblings of joy about how he was free now and what a fucking amazing friend Mike was. Noodle seemed oblivious to Mike's distracted state.
Mike's mind was filled only with images of the Chow and of the moment their eyes met. Mike had heard people talk about moments like that over the years, but he hadn't yet had one for himself. Now he had, and the power of it had every nerve ending in his body simmering.
Mike let Noodle crash on his couch. He took a shower and went to bed, eventually falling asleep to dreams full of the Chow. The Chow fighting, leaping through the air, the fierce look in his almond-shaped eyes, the sweat glistening on his flawless skin. Then Mike dreamed of lying on top of him, their naked bodies pressed together. The Chow was his, gazing up at him from under heavy lids, his full lips parted, wanting Mike's kiss. Mike moved over him, their hard cocks gliding against each other, silk over hard muscle rubbing together in the most fucking incredible bliss.
Mike woke up in a sweat, his chest heaving, mind racing. And even though he'd sworn to Noodle that he'd never go back to Donnie's, he knew he'd be there the next night, collecting tickets, this time determined to get close to the Chow any way he could.