Star Spanked: Friends of Friends 3

By Leighton Greene

Sebastian Fox, a British celebrity chef, flees the relentless English tabloids for the sunny shores of Los Angeles. As he plans the summer launch of his new culinary venture, the last thing he’s looking for is an entanglement—especially one that could make headlines.

But at the urging of an old friend, Sebastian indulges in his one passion other than food, and attends a special event...one that involves a lot more spice than his restaurant recipes.

Ezra Whitfield is a gorgeous male model who's had enough of being nothing more than a pretty face. After an anonymous, intimate encounter with a dashing older man at an adults-only club, Ezra becomes intrigued by ideas of control, surrender, and caring discipline. But his mystery man vanishes before Ezra can learn his name, leaving him longing for more.

After Ezra charms his way into a job opportunity at a new restaurant, he's taken aback to find Sebastian, his intriguing stranger, wearing the chef's hat. Sparks fly in and out of the kitchen, and their age gap becomes the least of their worries as they whip up a recipe for love.

Things are heating up fast—and neither of them want to leave this particular kitchen.

But not everyone is so happy about their new relationship...

Can Ezra and Sebastian overcome the odds, stamp out those sizzling rumors, and butter up an over-protective roommate?

***

Star Spanked is a delicious low-angst romance with a touch of boss/employee dynamics, a dash of discipline, and topped with an enticing 17-year age gap. Savor a deliciously satisfying ending without the bitterness of cliffhangers. While it's part of a series, it can be tasted alone, but be prepared for a few familiar side dishes from previous books, who add a pinch of salt.

Content Note: this book contains occasional allusions to restricted eating and diets, fashion industry standards for models, and body dysmorphia.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leighton Greene
• Release date: Nov 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005744458

Leighton Greene

Leighton Greene hails from Australia, where she lives with her partner, an academic, and her trusty cockatiel. She's been sharing her stories with the world since 2019, but she's been writing for much longer.When she's not busy crafting her next novel, Leighton can be found devouring tacos, scaring herself silly with horror movies, and exploring ancient worlds in the Assassin's Creed franchise. She's also known for having more book ideas than she knows what to do with.From steamy, passionate and dangerous, to funny and heartwarming, Leighton's books offer unique, immersive storylines that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Get ready for complex characters, intense emotions, and plenty of heat!Find her online:www.leightongreene.comNewsletter: www.leightongreene.com/newsletterFacebook: www.facebook.com/leightongreeneauthorGroup: https://www.facebook.com/groups/LeightonGreeneReadersSign up to Leighton's mailing list (www.leightongreene.com/newsletter) for updates on her works and series, and the occasional freebie and sneak peek.

Book preview

1

EZRA

"I ’m done ."

I threw myself down on the sofa and put my head in my housemate’s lap. Tristan Taylor barely glanced down at me, his attention on his Instagram feed.

Done with what? he asked.

Uh, excuse me? Seth Jackson, Tristan’s boyfriend, appeared next to the sofa carrying two bowls.

Ooh, nice, I said, sitting up. Is it that fat-free minestrone?

No, Tristan said. It’s the cream of⁠—

Say no more. Got a shoot coming up.

Tristan and Seth exchanged a look like they didn’t think I could see them. As a model, I had to be careful about what I ate. It wasn’t fun, and it was one of the reasons I was looking to get out of the industry. But right then a feminine, waif-like look was in for men, and I was lucky enough to fit that look…if I didn’t stuff my face.

Done with what? Tristan again, changing the subject. He and Seth carried their bowls to the dining area table, and only then did I realize I’d taken Seth’s seat on the couch. Oops.

I followed them up to the table and picked at the bag of baked, unsalted zucchini chips I’d been making my way through over the last few days. They were bland, but they crunched like potato chips, so they did the trick.

The whole scene, I said, slumping in my seat and watching them eat. God. What would it be like to never think about the calorie count of something before you put it in your mouth? I wanted to experience that.

New Dom sucked? Tristan asked, looking smug.

We agreed we’re better as friends. And don’t be assholes about it, ’kay? When I didn’t hear any response at all, I looked back up. Both of them were really focused on their soup. Fine, I sighed. You can tell me you told me so.

Nope, Seth said evenly. Not gonna do that.

Tristan, who had eagerly opened his mouth, paused mid-breath, then said, I’m sorry to hear that, Ezra, in a fake-polite tone.

"We’re both sorry it didn’t work out, Seth said, with a warning frown at Tristan. But we both also know that sometimes things just don’t work out."

Yeah, like kinks don’t match, Tristan said. Or one person is a really boring douchebag.

Tris, Seth sighed. Come on. We’re being a nice, positive member of the kink community these days. Remember?

"Yeah, Tris," I said with a glare.

The problem was, Tristan was actually right. I hadn’t been in the kink community long, but I’d dived in headfirst. It was a big change from what I called (solely to annoy Tristan) non-perv dating. But dating vanilla guys had been hit and miss due to something that had plagued me since I hit sixteen: my looks.

Listen, I get how that sounds. Poor me, I’m so gorgeous, wah-wah. But I’d been treated like a trophy my entire dating life, and I hated that feeling. The number of men I’d sat down and told them they were a great guy, but…

All because they couldn’t get past my so-called hotness to get to the person underneath. And now, every guy I’d scened with so far in the kink community hadn’t been right either. Too heavy-handed. Too light-handed. Too into stuff I wasn’t, or not into the stuff I was…most of which I hadn’t even figured out yet.

Tristan had been into these things a lot longer than me, and he had warned me that it could take a while to find someone who really fit. In fact, he’d warned me about so many things that I tended to tune him out sometimes.

I was fine with taking time to meet someone special, someone I really clicked with. But there had been some part of me that expected other things might be different from vanilla dating. That I’d be more valued for my personality or something. Apparently not.

My last Dom-boyfriend, Liam, was the first kinky guy I’d been with, so everything was new and exciting for a long time—until it wasn’t.

Until it struck me that Liam was just like every other guy I’d dated. That he saw me as a prize. He wanted me on his arm so he could show me off, and he liked to boss me around in public with his friends so they’d be jealous that a guy who looked like me was at Liam’s beck and call.

A month ago I’d sat him down and told him he was a great guy, but…

Liam had nodded like he’d been expecting it. Always knew I was punching above my weight with you, he’d told me with a sad smile.

I’d had to fight not to roll my eyes.

All my life people had only wanted me for the way I looked. I’d made a lot of money out of it—my modeling career had always been successful, even if I didn’t earn a fraction of what my female colleagues did. I made a very comfortable living and got to travel the world. But I also had to put up with being scrutinized and judged constantly for what I looked like.

I sure as shit didn’t want to feel that way in my personal life as well.

Liam had been the first, so I’d decided to try again. But every new Dom I’d met at a club or through FetLife was exactly the same. And this afternoon, I’d sat the latest one down and told him he was a great guy, but…

I don’t think I’m cut out for the scene, I announced now to Tristan and Seth.

Slow your roll, Tristan told me with a grin. You’re young and beautiful. You have the pick of the Doms. Just be more choosy next time, huh?

Tristan and Seth had both been in the scene for a long time. Liam was my first kinky relationship, and I didn’t think Tristan and Seth really remembered what it was like, that first time. Although Tristan and I had been friends for years, it took me a while to even dip my toe into the scene. Watching him have repeatedly shitty experiences, get himself hurt, or hearing him bad-mouth the local Doms didn't exactly make me want to get involved. It had only been to help out Tristan one night that I suggested going to the kink club with him. I’ll admit it, my curiosity was also piqued by his descriptions of what he and Seth had been doing.

Liam was the first hookup I’d had with a kinky guy outside a bit of baby talk and a few light spanks. He was the first guy who’d demanded I call him Sir while he fucked me, the first to expect me to follow a few rules and protocols, and the first guy who’d made me think that maybe…maybe I was into it.

And all that had happened within about ten meeting minutes of meeting Liam.

In a bathroom stall, no less. It wasn’t glamorous.

Now I was wondering if kink was really my jam, or if I’d just been high on hormones and the thrill of the new that night. Tristan reminding me that I was seen as a prize for Doms to win didn’t improve my mood.

But if Tristan, with all his pickiness and criticism, had found someone in the scene who regularly made him look like he’d discovered the meaning of life, surely there was hope for me?

It was time I stretched my wings a little, had some new experiences, and found out exactly what else was out there.

I jumped up and headed to the kitchen, where the cream-of-whatever soup was waiting in a big pot. While ladling myself a bowl, I turned back to Seth and Tristan, telling them, You know what, though, Tristan is right. There's a whole world of kink out there for me to explore.

I dropped a big chunk of bread next to my bowl when I headed back to the table. Might as well go the whole carby hog if I was going to break my diet.

Tristan and Seth looked at each other, and then at me.

What?

This is a common scenario, Tristan said, pointing his spoon at me.

"Excuse you, I am a completely uncommon scenario."

Uh-huh. The scenario I’m talking about is this Show-Me-The-World craze new kinksters get at the start. Now, you kinda missed out on that because you fell into a My Dom, My Everything pothole right at the beginning there with Liam the Lame. But now the road is opening up before you— Tristan spread out his hands, his voice dropping. —and you can see this carnival of delights just waiting to be sampled.

Bringing my spoon up to blow on the soup, I said, Metaphor got away from you, huh?

But Seth nodded sagely, like he was remembering the good old days. Oh, yeah, he agreed. You’ll be a kid in a candy store for a while. But that’s a good thing, as long as you listen to warnings and stay away from the edgelords. But don’t worry. Tris and I’ll look out for you.

I feel so loved, I said sweetly, and tried the soup. "Bleh! What the fuck⁠—"

It’s chilled cream of avocado and mint, Tristan said. "You think we’re gonna eat warm soup in this heat?"

It was only just coming into June and Los Angeles was already going through a heat wave. I could see his point. I took another tentative taste and discovered it wasn’t so bad. Actually, despite the idea of cold soup sounding gross, it was good.

I'll introduce you to a couple of guys we know are okay, Seth suggested, and then shot a look at Tristan. Tris was kind of a polarizing figure in the community. His wicked grin and trollish expression told me that Seth was thinking exactly the same thing.

Not sure if I'm down with the whole Primal thing, Seth, I said apologetically.

Yeah, you and the rest of LA. But I have friends in other parts of the community, too.

I was relieved to hear that. Don't get me wrong, Seth was hot and sweet, and I was really happy for Tristan that he'd found someone who could handle him. But Seth was into a style of play that I didn't think I'd ever be down for. The two of them could get rough, based on the bruises I’d seen and the way Tristan described some of their scenes.

I thought I was interested in less physical kinks. But then again, not the kind of Dom/sub stuff Liam was into, either. I didn’t want to be an obedient work of art. If I wanted to be stared at, I had modeling for that.

I knew I was pretty. More than pretty; I made a living from my face and body. But in everyday life, I didn’t want to be treated as though just because I was physically attractive, I must be an amazing person, too. Or used as a symbol of victory for someone else. A trophy to be won, but never anything more.

I was used to it. That didn’t mean I liked it.

Lately I’d been thinking of getting out of modeling altogether. Hearing Seth's hot takes on it as he experienced that world himself as Tristan's new Muse reminded me how ridiculous some parts of the job were, not to mention how soul-crushing it could be sometimes. I could have moved into photography like Tristan, only I wasn’t all that interested in photography as an art form. Perhaps because I’d seen it from the other side and I knew how unpleasant it could be, even if the results were beautiful.

But if I didn’t model, what the hell else was I going to do? That was where I was stuck. I wasn’t particularly smart, I’d never had a job in retail like Tristan, and there was no way I could work construction like Seth did. I wasn’t the muscly kind.

We’ll be happy to show you the ropes, Tristan said with a giant grin, as though he hadn’t made that same stupid pun to me fifty times already. Besides, we’ll have to look out for you.

What do you mean? I asked.

Tristan rolled his eyes. You know what I mean. You’re the sexy chicken who needs a bunch of hounds around to keep the foxes away.

The kink scene is not full of foxes, Seth said with a frown. At least, not anymore.

There had been a whole dramarama in the kink community recently. And I’d been proud of Tristan, because he had been the one who’d really brought it to everyone's attention, some of the issues around power and consent in the community. Not that I ever really knew much about the old community. But still. I’d seen positive results in Tristan, and word in the clubs was that people were enjoying themselves much more these days.

I don’t need you two bozos cramping my style, I said, as I finished up my bowl of soup. I’d eaten it quicker than Seth and Tristan. Oh, well. You snooze, you lose. I went back to the pot for seconds.

"Hey, Seth made that for me," Tristan complained.

Please, sir, I want some more? I made my lip quiver.

Oh, shove it in your mouth, Tris says. I'm just glad to see you eating for once. Although I thought you had a job in Mexico next week?

I didn’t reply. I hadn’t talked to Tristan yet about retiring from the not-so-glam world of modeling, but when I did, it was going to make it harder for me to keep up the rent payments on our place. I wasn’t sure what job I might get, but I was sure it wouldn’t pay anywhere near as much as modeling. I had a big buffer saved up, but eventually I might not be able to afford to live in a nice place like Tristan and I shared now.

The other reason I hadn’t raised it yet was because I could see Tris and Seth were getting on well enough that they might make it official and move in together. I would have been happy for Tristan, obviously. But I was also terrified. I’d lived in LA since my family moved there from Boston, and Tristan had been my best friend that whole time, and my housemate since I was eighteen.

I couldn’t live with anyone else. But living on my own sounded so…adult.

Still, the other bonus to quitting fashion? I could eat whatever the hell I wanted. I added another crusty chunk of bread to the side of my bowl.

After dinner, I headed to my room to give the lovebirds some time alone, but before I fired up my current binge-watch, I checked my emails to see if my flight details for the next job had been sent through by the agency. I was supposed to be in Mexico City next week for a shoot. But instead of flight confirmations, there was an email telling me the job had been canceled. Or rather, I had been canceled. The client went with a different model in the end, and that had been happening more often than it used to.

Part of it was that my metabolism was changing, and I couldn’t hork down hotdogs and ice cream any more without it showing in my gut the next day, or on my face. But part of it was also my age. At 27, I was considered a veteran in the modeling world. There were plenty of fresh faces coming up.

What really made it sting was that the guy who’d replaced me was a complete asshat. Miles Fucking Vanderhoven. He’d made a lot of trouble in our community, and for Tristan and Seth in particular, and ended up banned from most reputable kink places around LA—at least the ones that I went to.

I emailed back a thumbs-up icon to the booking agency and flopped back on my bed.

No boyfriend, let alone a Dom.

No jobs lined up.

And I had a feeling I’d have no housemate in the near future, too… I was just waiting for Tris to sit me down and tell me he wanted to move in with Seth. They needed a specialized room for their kinky sex stuff. Talk about intense.

All I wanted was a sexy guy who wasn’t afraid to boss me around, but most of all, who didn’t look at me and see himself reflected back, or use me as evidence of how amazing he must be to bag someone who looked like me.

Correction, I reminded myself.

All I wanted was to play around, explore, see what was out there. I had enough to worry about in my future without tying myself down to another boring boyfriend anytime soon. And as for work, maybe I could hit the gym a little more often. Bulk up, get ready for the swing to muscle that would inevitably come around in the industry. Fashion was cyclical, after all.

Maybe.

Another ping sounded from my phone, and I checked my email again. It was from Brandon this time, one of my new sub friends.

We should totally go to this! he’d emailed. The Monarchs gave it the all-clear.

The Monarchs was Brandon’s cheeky nickname for the members of the community who tended to call the shots. People like Jonathan Ashe, Xander Romano, and the woman most people called Zee, plus her husband (and submissive) Nik. I’d agreed with Tristan that I wouldn’t go to any new places without giving him a chance to vet it first, but if Brandon and the Monarchs approved, how could Tristan complain?

The email Brandon forwarded was an advertisement for a new kink night: The Gentle Art of Spanking. First-night tickets were guaranteed to sell out fast, it advised, so I should get in quick.

A new night with a new kink and maybe some new people? That was exactly what I needed.

I hit the RSVP NOW! link before I could change my mind.

2

SEBASTIAN

I t’s a disaster, I said, looking around at the patchy paint job, the plaster dust, and the furniture that was decidedly not the furniture I had ordered from the catalog. " How long did you say you’ve been working on this?" I demanded from the decorator. He gave a fatuous smile.

"Well—a few weeks, he said. But in terms of what you wanted, I think we’re really very close⁠—"

"Bugger that. This is ghastly. I asked you for classic Hollywood. This looks like some rundown truck stop. You said it would only take two weeks, and it’s already been a month. I have a preview night coming up quickly with some of the finest food critics in this strange land, and I don’t have time to waste. On the Fourth of July," I reminded him, as though that might light a patriotic fire under the decorator’s well-toned backside.

He nodded slowly. Well, I’ll have to move around a few clients, but I can probably get it done. Of course, there will be an extra fee for the rush job⁠—

Are you having a laugh, mate? I laughed. He looked blankly at me. Get out. You’re fired.

He gaped. You can’t fire⁠—

Thanks for wasting my time, and my office will settle your no doubt exorbitant bill.

But if you could just give me another few days to⁠—

Am I speaking Urdu? I roared. Get out, or I’ll kick your arse out the door myself!

He went.

You really are determined to flit from disaster to disaster, aren’t you, Chef? Sophie Adebayo’s voice said from the tablet I’d placed on one of the ugly dining tables. I lifted up the tablet and scowled at her. From a seat at Heathrow airport, she simply raised an eyebrow back.

"You realize it’s your arse on the line as well, don’t you?" I asked.

Oh, yes, I’m quite sure you’ll fire me, too. Like that time last week. And the time before that. And the time before⁠—

Alright, alright, I broke in. "But that muppet really is fired."

With a sigh, Sophie shook her head. "I did tell you that it would be easier for you to let me handle things when I get there. And I will be there tomorrow. So if you can manage to keep out of trouble for another 24 hours⁠—"

"Come on, Soph. I flipped the camera view and gave her another view of the half-finished restaurant. You can’t tell me you’d give this a pass, either. I know you."

"I told you not to hire him in the first place," she said acerbically.

I turned the picture back around to face me. And I should have listened.

Say it.

Say what?

You know what. The words every woman loves to hear.

I grimaced, sighed, and gave in. You were right.

"There we are," she said in satisfaction.