Apex Predator (The Game #11) Read Online Cara Dee

Categories Genre: Angst, BDSM, Erotic, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Game Series by Cara Dee

Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)

The Game Series • Book 11 • Primal Play • MMMM • D/s • Second Chances • Hurt Comfort • Vacation Romance
Pack your sunscreen and strap in for a wild ride and a kinky vacation that doesn’t go as planned.

Lane Sawyer had no complaints. Not really, anyway. After all, he’d just been invited to spend a week down in sunny Florida with his amazing boyfriend Macklin and some of his kinkster buddies. That was exactly what Lane needed. Uncomplicated fun and the promise of no drama—and hopefully a close encounter or two with the apex predator of the Everglades, the Burmese python. He loved, loved, loved reptiles.

But Florida was home to more than one apex predator. When Lane arrived, he found himself face-to-face with their host for the week, his high school girlfriend’s dad. The man who’d once made Lane realize he was into men.

Macklin McKenna couldn’t wait to get away. The problem was, he needed a vacation from himself more than DC. But maybe a week in South Florida with his friends and his adoring boyfriend Lane could distract him from the fact that he was never getting over the man he was still technically married to.

The characters in the Game Series cross over in multiple books, as we follow not only new love interests but the background friendships and dynamics of a thriving kink community. The story of Lane, Ty, Macklin, and Walker begins here—but if you’re interested in secondary characters and the Mclean House journey, you won’t regret starting at the beginning.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



December 20

Macklin McKenna

I took a swig from the bottle, brushing my fingers over the brass number on the door. Number 9. This used to be my home. His home. Our home, after he’d asked me to move in.

Someone else lived there now.

I hiccupped and rubbed the back of my hand over my eyes. Then I drank some more vodka and headed next door. Number 11. I knocked three times, hoping I wasn’t making a huge mistake.

The way I figured…if anyone could understand, it was him.

Urgh. Paint dots. They bothered me. I leaned against the doorframe and squinted at a little drop of dried paint, and I couldn’t stand it. I had to scratch it off.

In between sips of tasteless, weak vodka, I managed to remove the little excess paint, and I looked closer. Huh. Underneath the gray paint was dark green. Who’d a fuckin’ thunk it?!

“Whoa.” I stumbled back as the door opened.

Dean stood there. A blurry version of him.

“Did you know the doorframes used to be green?” I asked.

Professor Blurry Dean looked concerned and a little amused. “Rough night?”

“Blah.” I handed over the vodka bottle to him and walked past him.

I kicked off my shoes and jacket.

This was nice. He’d only returned to DC a few weeks ago, and his condo was already back in order. Just the way I remembered the place, with its dark walls in natural colors, countless bookcases, chesterfield furniture, and expensive rugs.

He was such a professor.

Like, the stereotypical kind. Only thing missing, really, was corduroy. He already rocked his salt-and-pepper hair and trimmed beard, and the occasional cashmere sweater vest too.

“How did you get your place, you know, all Dean-like again so fast?”

He closed the door and set the vodka on a shelf I couldn’t reach.


“I never rented it out,” he replied.

Oh. Well, I guessed that made sense. Stanford had all but begged him to teach there for a few quarters, so I bet they’d paid for his accommodations. Plus a hefty salary. But now he was back home, and he was returning to GW after the holidays.

I slumped down on his couch and eyed the fire in the corner. I loved old buildings like this one. Walker and I had had a fireplace too. Though, our coffee table had been tidy. Dean’s was littered with books and printouts.

“How are you feeling, dear?”

I scrunched my nose and leaned back. “Like shit. And you know whose fault that is?”

He sighed and walked over to his old-fashioned drink cart. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say Walker.”

I tapped my nose and nodded, even though he had his back to me while he poured himself a drink. “Correct,” I said. “Your stupid little brother. Fucker won’t stop haunting me.”

I saw him here too. Not in too many places, but Dean had a handful of family photos on the walls, and he was closest to Walker. They weren’t related by blood, but they were similar, nonetheless. Dean was…how old? Fuck. No, I could do this. Walker was almost forty-eight, and Dean was six or seven years older, so that was…math.

I scrubbed vigorously at my face, trying to clear the fog.

They were a long way from Knoxville, Tennessee. Most of the time, you only picked up a hint of a Southern drawl. They’d toned down their accents in college.

They were both Doms too.

“Does it feel good to be back home?” I asked. “How’s kink life in San Francisco?”

He smiled a little and brought his whiskey or whatever to the couch, and he sat down next to me with a grunt. Old-man noises. “Rather wild, I must say. There’s an old scene and a young scene. You don’t want to end up in the wrong one.”

I laughed. “I’d definitely go for the old one. Bunch’a hot Daddies all over the place.”

I was glad Dean was home again, though. He belonged with us at Mclean House. Walker and I had recruited him when things were still good between us. Between Walker and me.

It hadn’t been awkward, to be honest. Primarily because we’d avoided attending the same events if they were on the smaller side. If they were big, there was no issue. Our community was large enough that you could get lost in a crowd. And then when Walker and I were over, Dean and I had an unspoken agreement to keep avoiding each other, just not as strictly as before. So…maybe he’d ended up at a private event I’d hosted not long ago, and maybe I’d seen his naked ass while he plowed someone else.

It was a nice ass. I was allowed to say that about my brother-in-law. It didn’t mean anything. Besides, I was thirty years old and in a very open relationship. It went without saying that I looked.

“So what did Walker do this time?”

I lolled my head along the back of the couch and squinted. Dean had a reading lamp right behind him. “His ass isn’t here.”