Curfew & Chains
MM Dark Campus Romance
by Jace Wilder
Free with Kindle Unlimited
Pairing: MM
Heat: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ Inferno
Tropes: Age Gap, Authority Kink, D/s Dynamic, Forced Proximity, Praise Kink, College Romance, Class Difference, Bratty Sub
He enforced the rules. I broke every one. Then he made me beg to follow them.
Isaac Morales is the night-shift campus security officer that Whitmore University’s elite students call the Warden. Ex-military, working-class, and pathologically incapable of looking the other way, he writes up every infraction with the same meticulous precision he used to field-strip his service weapon. He hasn’t let anyone close in three years. Control is his comfort. Rules are his religion.
Lucas “Luke” Harrington is the trust-fund law student who keeps breaking every one. Rich, reckless, and allergic to consequences, he’s been charming his way out of trouble since prep school. But when Isaac’s stack of write-ups triggers a disciplinary hearing that could torpedo his law career, Luke does something he’s never done before—he asks for help. Sincerely. Without the performance.
Isaac offers him a deal: a behavioral contract. Curfew. Sobriety. Nightly check-ins where Luke stands in front of Isaac’s desk and proves he can follow a rule. No exceptions. No negotiation. No buying his way out.
The contract is professional. The tension is not. Every check-in crackles with something neither of them is prepared for. Every “Yes, sir” rewires something in Luke’s body. Every inspection pushes Isaac closer to a line he swore he’d never cross—because wanting the student you’re supervising is the kind of chaos that destroys careers, and Isaac Morales does not do chaos.
But Luke Harrington doesn’t bend. And Isaac Morales doesn’t break. And the space between bending and breaking is where the most dangerous things grow.
When they negotiate a second arrangement—off campus, off the record, with handcuffs that have nothing to do with university policy—Isaac discovers that the bratty law student who tested every boundary is the first person brave enough to surrender. And Luke discovers that the rigid, watchful man who wouldn’t let him get away with anything is the first person worth submitting to.
But campus gossip is closing in, a senator’s son is weaponizing what he’s seen, and the class divide between a $47K salary and a family that built the library is wider than either of them wants to admit. To survive, they’ll need more than desire. They’ll need the thing Isaac has been afraid of since the military and Luke has been avoiding since birth: trust.
You’ll love this book if you enjoy:
✅ Dark-tinged MM campus romance with explicit D/s
✅ Dominant security officer × bratty submissive law student
✅ Age gap with class difference and authority kink
✅ “Yes, sir” energy that escalates into full power exchange
✅ Handcuffs, restraints, orgasm control, and praise kink
✅ Emotional depth beneath scorching heat (🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️)
✅ Consent-forward kink with on-page negotiation and safewords
✅ HEA guaranteed
⚠️ Content Warning: This novel contains explicit sexual content (graphic MM scenes including D/s dynamics, restraint play, spanking, orgasm control, and consensual power exchange), strong language, depictions of institutional power imbalance (addressed with on-page negotiation and consent), alcohol use, parental emotional neglect, and class-based conflict. Intended for readers 18+.
📖 Read Chapter One Free
Not sure yet? Read the full first chapter right here.
Chapter One: After Hours
The thing about the night shift was that nobody expected you to smile.
Isaac Morales clocked in at 10:02 PM on a Tuesday in September, hung his jacket in the break room locker that still had the previous guard’s name taped to it, and clipped his radio to his belt with the same mechanical precision he’d used to field-strip his service weapon for six years. Badge on the left chest. Flashlight in the holster. Handcuffs—because Whitmore University insisted its security officers carry them even though Isaac had never once used them on a student—settled against his right hip with a familiar weight.
He checked his reflection in the locker’s dented metal door. Dark polo stretched across shoulders that hadn’t softened since discharge. SECURITY stamped in white block letters across his back like a brand. The scar through his left eyebrow caught the fluorescent light and turned silver.
He looked like exactly what he was: a man you didn’t fuck with.
Good.
The campus was beautiful in the way that obscene money could make anything beautiful. Gothic limestone buildings draped in ivy that probably had its own endowment. Cobblestone paths between manicured lawns, gas-style lamps casting warm pools of light designed to make prospective families feel safe. The library tower rose against the sky like a cathedral, its windows glowing amber.
Isaac’s boots struck the cobblestones in a steady rhythm as he made his first round. Past the science quad, dark and locked. Past the student union, where a handful of grad students huddled over laptops in the twenty-four-hour café. Past the athletic center, silent except for the hum of the HVAC system.
He checked doors. Tested locks. Swept his flashlight across loading docks and basement stairwells. Everything in its place. Everything accounted for.
This was what Isaac understood: the architecture of order. The satisfaction of a system functioning the way it was designed to function. Rules existed for reasons. Locks kept people safe. Curfews prevented the kind of decisions that twenty-year-olds made at 3 AM when they were drunk and invincible and absolutely certain that consequences were something that happened to other people.
He rounded the corner of Hawthorne Hall at 1:43 AM, and that was when his night changed.
He heard it before he saw it. A scraping sound, rubber on stone, followed by a grunt and a muffled laugh—the particular laugh of someone who thinks they’re being sneaky and is absolutely not.
He came around the hedgerow and found a window open on the ground floor—Room 114. A pair of legs was currently half-in, half-out of the window frame, expensive sneakers scrabbling against the limestone sill.
Isaac stopped three feet away, crossed his arms, and waited.
The legs swung inside. A body followed—lean, athletic, moving with the loose-limbed confidence of someone who’d had enough to drink to feel immortal but not enough to lose coordination. The figure dropped to the floor inside the room, then turned and leaned back out the window.
“Text me, babe.” A voice behind him, male, already retreating.
The figure in the window grinned like he’d won something. Messy light-brown hair, sharp cheekbones, the kind of face that belonged on the front of a cologne ad or the back of a police report. His shirt was untucked, lips swollen, smelling like whiskey and weed and someone else’s cologne.
Lucas Harrington turned from the window, still grinning, and found Isaac Morales standing in his room like a wall that hadn’t been there before.
The grin didn’t quite die. It flickered—surprise, recalculation—and then rearranged itself into something more strategic. Charming. Disarming.
“Hey,” Harrington said, like they were meeting at a bar. “You’re new.”
Isaac unclipped his pen. Pulled the citation pad from his back pocket.
“Isaac Morales. Night security. You’re past curfew. Window entry is a safety violation. I’m noting alcohol and possible substance use based on odor.”
“Whoa, okay. Let’s slow down. I was just out with friends. It’s barely after one.”
“Curfew is midnight.”
“Right, and I’m like an hour late—”
“One hour and forty-seven minutes.” Isaac still hadn’t looked up. “The window was unnecessary. The front door has a keycard reader that logs entry times, which I’m guessing is why you avoided it.”
“Look, man. I get it. But this really isn’t a big deal. I’m a law student, not a freshman sneaking out after lights-out.” He tilted his head, hair falling across his forehead in a way that was probably calculated. “Come on. It’s not like anyone got hurt.”
“People get hurt when rules aren’t followed. That’s the entire point of rules.”
“That’s a very… rigid philosophy.”
“I’m a rigid person.” Isaac clicked his pen. “Name?”
Harrington blinked. “You don’t know who I am?”
Isaac looked up for the first time. Met the kid’s eyes—green, bright, slightly glassy—and held them with the flat, immovable stare that had made better men reconsider their life choices.
“I know you’re in Room 114 past curfew, entering through a window, smelling like a dispensary. What I need for the form is your name.”
“Lucas Harrington,” he said, and the name came out like he expected it to open a door.
Isaac wrote it down. “Sign here.”
“You know my family built the library, right? The Harrington Library? Big building, lots of books, maybe you’ve seen it.”
Isaac was already heading for the door. He stopped with his hand on the frame and looked back.
“The library closes at midnight too,” he said. “Get some sleep, Harrington.”
Want to keep reading? The full novel is available now.
🔥 Want an EXCLUSIVE Bonus Chapter?
The Shadow Box — A scene TOO HOT for Amazon
Their first anniversary. Isaac takes the original security handcuffs down from the shadow box on the wall—the ones that started everything. One night. No rules except theirs. The filthiest, most emotional bonus chapter in the series.
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