Margins
Do What You Want book cover
Do What You Want
2015
First Published
3.57
Average Rating
48
Number of Pages

Text Message from Mr. Perfect. Preston Weaver’s life runs on a set schedule. From Friday night at 6:00 p.m. to Monday morning at approximately 7:45 a.m. he is Preston Weaver. One-third of a modern-day parenting unit of three children. Responsible. Fun-loving. He takes care of his three children: Cassandra, Rachel, and Solomon alone on the weekends to give his other two parenting partners, Zora and Demetri, a break. During the weekend, Preston wears “Daddy” clothes. He sleeps in “Daddy” clothes. At least on the outside. But at 7:45 a.m. on Monday, Preston stops being “Daddy” and becomes “boy,” and all it takes is a text message from his Sir, Reginald Van-Moreno.Did you miss me this weekend?With a flash, Preston becomes the submissive he was always meant to be. The submissive he loves being. And while he knows the people in his life would never understand his need to not only submit, but his yearning, his love, and his craving for wearing lingerie and being restrained, the bite of pain, and the rest of the kink he’s into, they don’t need to understand or accept it. Preston is really great at keeping the two parts of his life completely separate. Until he’s not. When a faulty elevator leads to Preston and Reginald, Mr. Perfect, taking advantage of a situation, and that leads to both parts of Preston’s life colliding, he’ll have to come to terms with mixing the personal with the even more personal. This story was written as a part of the M/M Romance Group's "Love is an Open Road" event. Group members were asked to write a story prompt inspired by a photo of their choice. Authors of the group selected a photo and prompt that spoke to them and wrote a short story. Photo Description: Two men lying naked on the bed facing the ceiling, in the midst of having sex. One lying on top of the other, but the picture is only of their lower halves. The man on top has his legs straight up, wearing a pair of pantyhose, black garters with red ribbons, and black patent stilettoes which are crossed at the ankles, being thoroughly fucked by the man on the bottom whose legs are spread-eagled. This story may contain sexually explicit content and is intended for adult readers. It may contain content that is disagreeable or distressing to some readers. The M/M Romance Group strongly recommends that each reader review the General Information section before each story for story tags as well as for content warnings.

Avg Rating
3.57
Number of Ratings
123
5 STARS
12%
4 STARS
44%
3 STARS
35%
2 STARS
7%
1 STARS
2%
goodreads

Author

Vicktor Alexander
Author · 41 books
Vicktor Alexander “Vic” wrote his first story at the age of 10 about his youngest sister and her destruction of the world…with her breath. Much to his youngest sister’s dismay the story was a hit and became the first story of a series all dealing with the planets that were destroyed by his siblings and their strange quirks and body odors. Vic now enjoys writing about shifters, humanoids, cowboys, firemen, rent boys, fairies, elves, dancers, doctors, Doms, Subs, and anything else that catches his fancy, all sexy men falling in love with each other and having lots of naughty, dirty, man-on-man sex. Author of the best-selling series, The Tate Pack, Vic is a huge fan of the “happily-ever-after” ending. But while his characters all ride off into the proverbial sunset, all sexually satisfied and in love, they all bear the scars of fighting for that love, just like in real life. Out and proud, Vic does not believe that love only comes in one form, one race, one gender and that not only is gender fluid, by sexuality as well. Vic loves to make people laugh and when he’s not writing, or rather, procrastinating in writing, he’s reading, playing the Sims 3, hanging out with his very supportive adopted family, talking to his adopted daughter, whom he affectionately calls "Chipmunk", seeking the man or men who can handle his crazy, stressful, soap opera-esque life and being distracted from his writing by drooling over pictures of John Barrowman, Scott Hoying, Charlie David and Shemar Moore.
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