Broken In is Book 1 in The Brutal Lessons Series, a high-heat, high-stakes M/M age gap dark romance featuring forbidden power dynamics, a sexual awakening, morally grey characters, elements of BDSM, and a guaranteed HEA by the end of the series. Contains explicit content and themes some readers may find disturbing. Intended for mature audiences.
Evan
Well, this is it. One stupid party, one broken curfew, and my football scholarship—my only shot out of nowhere, Nebraska—is circling the drain. Coach didn't just yell; he handed me over. To him. Jack. Coach's roommate, apparently. Older, built like granite, with eyes that strip me bare and see every fuck-up I've ever made.
He says it's "specialized training." Punishment. Discipline. But his gym feels more like a torture chamber, and his methods… they're not just about push-ups and sprints. He pushes me until I break, his hands correcting my form with a heat that lingers too long, his voice dropping low when he calls me "good boy" for surrendering.
He talks about control, authority, submission. And fuck me, my body listens even when my head screams danger. I'm getting hard from his touch, craving the burn in my muscles, needing his approval in a way that makes no damn sense. I've only ever been with girls, but the way Jack looks at me, the way he handles me... it's messing with everything I thought I knew.
He promises to teach me discipline, but the lessons feel darker, more intimate than anything Coach intended. He's pulling me into a world I don't understand, showing me a side of myself I never wanted to see. He's breaking me down, piece by painful piece, and remaking me into something else.
Something his.
God help me, I think I crave it. How much am I willing to lose for lessons learned in sweat and shame and forbidden pleasure?
Jack
Harrington sent me another one. Evan Michaels. Fresh out of high school, full of raw potential wrapped in cheap beer and defiance. Thinks he's tough because he plays linebacker. He has no idea what tough is. Not yet.
Coach wants discipline instilled. Structure imposed. He trusts my methods, even if he doesn't ask about the details. And my methods are effective. I break them down—physically, mentally—until they understand hierarchy, until they understand surrender. It’s a process I enjoy.
But this kid... Michaels... he's different. There's a fire beneath the surface defiance, a responsiveness to authority that quickens my pulse. When my hands are on him, correcting his stance, pushing him past his limits, I see more than just muscle. I see potential for something deeper. Something darker. Something mine.
He thinks this is punishment for breaking curfew. Let him. He'll learn soon enough that the lessons I teach have little to do with football schedules. I'll push him until his body betrays his naive assumptions, until he craves the very control he thinks he resents. Until the word "Daddy" feels natural on his tongue.
He's a challenge, yes. But I've always enjoyed shaping raw material into something exquisite, something utterly devoted. He thinks he's being broken in for the team.
He has no idea he's being broken in for me.
