by KB Alan
“Please, Sir,” she begged.
He climbed back onto the bed and straddled her, facing her hungry cunt. He fed her his cock and watched her suck him down. He had to close his eyes, because the sight was too fucking erotic. She hummed around him and he almost lost control. Almost. He faced forward and lowered his mouth to her clit, teasing it with his tongue, lightly at first. All the while he kept the dildo pumping, in and out, twisting and turning so she could feel the ridges, angling it to hit that spot inside her that made her hips jump.
He moved his knees back, letting her take more of him. At the same time, he took her clit between his teeth, biting oh so carefully. She screamed. He felt it more than heard it. Fuck, he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer. He sucked on her clit and began to truly fuck her with the toy. She was trying to lift her hips, but he held her down and kept to his own pace.
She worked her tongue and cheeks around him. He knew her, knew her sounds and rhythm and signs. He’d planned on letting her come this way, but changed his mind. He wanted to see her. Feel her. He lifted his hips and pulled free from her mouth. He eased the toy out and tossed it on the bed, then climbed off her. Helping her sit up, he unbuckled the belt and freed her hands.
“Lay back now, Petal” he told her, all the play gone from his tone. This was his Natalie, and all he wanted to be was everything she needed.
“Noah. Sir.” She lay back and lifted her hands, wrapping them around him when he covered her and slid into her slick folds. Her nails dug into his shoulders but she didn’t rush him. He closed his eyes tight for a minute to get past the slick feel of her holding him, then opened to find her gaze on his.
Her blue eyes held tight to his as he brought them closer and closer to release.
“I love you, Sir,” she whispered, and he nearly lost it.
“I love you, too, Petal. You’ve taken my soul. I need you to keep it safe.”
“Yes, Sir. All mine.”
He angled his hips and she gasped. She was back to the edge, ready to go, waiting for him. “Come for me, Natalie.”
She cried out, and he let the spasms of her muscles take him over. Shockwaves raced through his body. He slammed his mouth shut over the shout that tried to escape. He dropped and rolled so they were on their sides, still wrapped around each other, his cock still buried inside her.
He couldn’t wait to marry her, but it almost didn’t matter. She was his, just as he was hers. From the moment he’d wrapped the cheap magnetic collar around her throat, that day in his car, the deed was done.
Still, giving her the locking collar, then the rose choker, those had been excellent steps. As had the diamond ring. And he was looking forward to adding his wedding ring to her collection. But when she’d wrapped the leather bracelet she’d bought for him around his wrist, the infinity knot subtle but unmistakable, he’d determined he wasn’t going let her go, not if he could help it. And soon she’d slide the ring she’d bought for him onto his left hand, and he’d move heaven and earth to make sure it stayed there.
But he didn’t have to move planets. He just had to be the person she needed. Luckily, that was no job at all.
“I love you, Noah.” She told him.
He kissed her. “My Natalie. I love you.”
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Thank you for reading Perfect Temptation! If you haven’t already read the full series, see the complete list in the “Also by KB Alan” section.
Turn the page for an excerpt of Bound by Sunlight, a stand alone erotic romance by KB Alan.
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Excerpt
Bound by Sunlight
By KB Alan
(Available Now)
Kyriana Price has spent nearly a year trapped at her evil day job. And she does mean evil. Her boss is a mage bent on power and lets nothing stand in the way of his quest to gain more of it. When she sees Connul Graysn wielding a flogger at a BDSM club, she formulates an escape plan that will require his considerable skills—as a mage and as a Dom. Going to another mage for help might not be the best plan, but it’s the only one she’s got, and at this point, she’s willing to try just about anything.
The last thing Connul expects when he finds an intruder in his house is that he’ll soon have her chained in his bedroom, her lovely body marked by his paddle. But she’s begging for his help—how can a gentleman refuse? As they learn to trust each other, he begins to realize that the only thing he’s not willing to do for her is let her go.
Chapter One
A shiver raced down Kyriana’s spine. She wanted to blame it on the cold, rather than nerves, but the study she waited in wasn’t really chilly. Still, she pulled her feet up to rest in front of her on the chair’s wide leather seat, her toes curling over its edge, her arms wrapping around her legs. She studied her bare feet. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. What had she been thinking to wear the simple sleep pants and tank top? She had an assortment of seductive outfits to choose from, all of them including four-to-five-inch fuck-me heels. But here she sat, feet bare, toes not even painted, sans makeup.
Despite her self-chastisement, she made no move to get up and go change. There was no question in her mind that if she left the room she wouldn’t be coming back. Breaking into the study had taken all of her meager skills as a mole and every bit of her courage. It was one thing to spy on a superior mage such as Connul Graysn. It was another thing entirely to break into his private study and wait for him to find her. If he didn’t give her a chance to explain, or worse, didn’t agree to her plan, she was dead. At least, she hoped he’d kill her. Because there were worse things in life than death, and if he didn’t help her, and he didn’t kill her, chances were pretty strong she’d be able to catalog those worse things in intimate detail.
Another shiver raced through her. God, she was such a coward. Which was exactly how she’d gotten herself into this mess in the first place. Dropping her forehead to rest on her knees, she swallowed back the tears that threatened. It was good to remember, actually. Good to remember that her cowardice had gotten her into this mess, so playing it safe wasn’t always the smart option. Tonight was an excellent night to keep that in mind.
Connul knew the minute he entered his garage that someone was in his house uninvited. Worse, they were in his private study, which nobody had access to while he was away. The live-in staff should have all retired to their separate wing by now, and certainly wouldn’t invade his private room without permission.
He cast his senses throughout the house but found only that one anomaly. He detected no traps, physical or magical. A small spell ensured his entry, as well as his slow progress toward the study, were silent. He could tell the presence was a woman and that she wasn’t a mage. If she were intending harm, it would be through more mundane means. The idea that anyone would threaten him or his staff in his own home pissed him off, but he stuffed the anger away. He needed to be clear-headed. Control was key. Being a mage was a heavy responsibility. It wouldn’t do to let anger get the better of him and blast an ignorant thief with a spell that would do them lasting damage.
Of course, the chances of an ignorant thief gaining entry into his protected study were just about zero. He would be careful, but he would be ready. He prepared a number of offensive spells as he neared the room’s closed door. The obvious first move would be to immobilize the woman so that she couldn’t use a weapon against him. She likely had some means to deflect such a spell—a person wouldn’t just wait uninvited in a mage’s space without expecting the need to defend themselves. Still, he believed in keeping it simple until more complicated means were called for.
Pausing just before the doorway, he closed his eyes and called the room to mind. He wasn’t able to project his inner eye just anywhere without serious magical effort, but the room was his private space, where he spent more time than almost any other. He was
physically and magically in tune with it, so it took little to no effort to see inside, especially since he was so close.
The room appeared empty until he realized that the woman occupied his large reading chair. Turned away from the door, it gave her a view of the fireplace. There was no fire burning and she had her head buried in her arms. She didn’t seem familiar to him at all, nor did she appear to be armed. Her hands were wrapped about her legs and clearly empty, so unless she was hiding something in her lap, she was clean. Which made no sense. What the hell was going on?
He wanted to see her face, her reactions, so Connul squared himself in front of the closed door and made a careful noise one instant before he cast the freezing spell. Her head flew up at the sound, but nothing else moved as she was caught by the magic. He’d frozen her vocal cords as a standard precaution, so the only sound in the room was her initial gasp, followed by labored breathing.
The door opened quickly, the locks still disengaged from her entry. He flipped on the lights and hurried to the chair. Once he could see her face-to-face, he let his inner vision go. He hadn’t constricted her breathing, but her chest heaved, her lungs working hard. Shit, he hoped she didn’t hyperventilate, that would make it harder to get answers. And he really wanted answers. She blinked against the light, her face a study in concentration as she clearly tried to bring herself under control. Her vivid green eyes stood out from hair that was a red so soft it was almost gold. It swung in a bob against her chin, inviting fingers to brush it back from her pale skin.
Though he allowed no outward reaction, he mentally chastised himself. What was he doing noticing her quiet beauty at a time like this? He was certain now that he didn’t know her. She squeezed her eyes shut and her breath shuddered in and out as his mind whirled, trying to figure out what was going on. While it took some skill to cast the freezing spell as specifically as he had—allowing normal lung function and all facial expressions, but no other bodily movement—she should have expected something of the sort. Even if she didn’t know his skill level, didn’t appreciate the nuances of his spellwork, it was an obvious first move. But she’d simply waited in the chair for him to return to his study? It made no sense.
To make certain she was unarmed, he pulled her hands from around her legs, laying them on top of the chair’s wide arms. He stared at her bare feet for a moment. Why did bare feet look so innocent? He grasped her ankles and pulled her legs out, dropping them. Her eyes remained shut as she visibly struggled to bring herself under control. Ignoring the flash of concern that speared through him as her body began to tremble, he took a step back and looked her over. Totally ridiculous. Why in the hell would someone break into his study and wait for him in his own chair, wearing pajamas?
Maybe that was the answer. Maybe she was just crazy. He set his hands at her waist and ran them down her hips and legs, making sure there were no weapons tucked between her body and the chair. At this point, he wasn’t really surprised to come up empty. But he was surprised at how tempting her curves were. He was supposed to be focusing on the situation, not the enticing woman. Shaking his head, he brought his hands up to her shoulders. Sometimes, if a spell was subtle enough, he might not detect it on a person without physical touch. He closed his eyes and concentrated hard.
As before, he sensed no spells on her body, nothing that might harm him, nothing she could activate either offensively or defensively. There was…something, though. He slid his hands up her shoulders to cup her neck, trying to get a better feel for what he was sensing. A slight lessening of her distress distracted him. Opening his eyes, he watched her face. A single tear tracked from beneath her tightly closed lids, but her breathing was calming and her trembling subsiding.
Once again, he concentrated on what was inside of her instead of her body’s reactions. His thumbs traced up and down her neck. Yes. There it was. A powerful spell, trapped in her mind. It was completely foreign to her, he had no doubt. There was a tiny spark of magic that was hers, something distant that he was sure she wasn’t even aware of. Probably at least one mage back in her family tree. Interesting. He laid a spell himself, one that ensured her honesty in whatever she said, as well as compelling her to answer his questions. He didn’t even try to be subtle, and though she might not know exactly what he’d done, she was sure to know he’d done something.
Releasing her, he stepped back, leaning against the desk, watching as her fear once again overwhelmed her. He withdrew ninety percent of the immobilizing spell. She could move, but not suddenly and not with any strength. It took her only a second to realize she was free. Her feet came back up to rest on the seat and she buried her face in her hands as she struggled to control her breathing.
He probably should have been irritated but he was too curious. The fact that she was terrified but trying to control it was interesting. If she’d just been a sniveling wreck he might not have been patient enough to stand by and wait. As it was, only a minute passed before she wiped her eyes, scrubbed her face with her hands, and looked up at him.
“I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath, glancing down at her feet.
He almost laughed out loud at the horrified expression that crossed her face as her legs worked their way down until her ankles were crossed demurely. Could it be that she was embarrassed to be lounging on his chair? While barefoot? And wearing pajamas? After breaking into his study? Maybe he was asleep and this was all a bizarre dream. Her eyes were wide, her gaze fixed firmly on his knees, so he let the smile out, just for a second. Then he drew in a deep breath of his own. Enough of this nonsense, it was time to figure out what the hell was going on.
“What’s your name?”
“Kyr. Kyriana Price. I—”
“How did you get in here?” he interrupted. He was in charge here, and the sooner she figured that out, the better for her.
She frowned and answered slowly. “I was hired by Mrs. Tremky.”
“Yesterday,” she added, when he didn’t say anything.
“In this room. How did you get into this room?”
She bit her lip, opened her mouth, grimaced and closed it again. Finally, she tried again, “I…had a thingy.” It came out in a rush and her eyes darted up to his before settling on a view of his arms, crossed in front of his chest.
He waited, but she didn’t look as if she was feeling compelled to say anything more.
“A thingy.”
She gave him a jerky nod.
“You had a thingy, which let you into my office.”
Another grimace crossed her face. “Look, I—”
“Ah,” he cut her off before she could go off on her own tangent. Then he realized he hadn’t actually asked her a follow up question. He’d just made a statement, which she’d been able to ignore. Sometimes magic was annoyingly literal.
“What kind of thingy?”
She fought his compulsion this time. Her stomach clenched and she swallowed hard before gasping out in pain. “It…I…A spell-lock thingy.”
She took a shuddering breath and leaned back into the seat, once again daring a brief look at his face. He wasn’t sure what she saw there, but he was getting damn curious, as well as concerned. His compulsion spell seemed to be in opposition to the spell already cast on her. And the foreign spell was strong enough to cause physical discomfort.
“Why are you wearing pajamas?”
Her tight features softened.
“I didn’t want to wear any of the clothes I had with me.”
“Why?”
She squirmed, though he didn’t think it was from pain. “They’re all…slutty.”
Her hands gripped her thighs and he knew she was uncomfortable, wishing she could curl up into the chair. A sitting version of the fetal position. But for now, propriety would keep her sitting erect and he didn’t want her too comfortable.
“Why do you only have slutty clothes with you? Surely Mrs. Tremky informed you of the dress code?” He didn’t have uniforms for his staff, but there was a certain level of d
ress expected, and slutty did not qualify.
Another deep breath. “To attract you,” she whispered, softly enough that he had to lean forward to hear her.
She was tense, waiting for his next question.
“So that you could…what? Gain my confidence?”
Her stomach muscles contracted as she opened her mouth, but only a soft cry escaped. Sweat broke out on her brow and she began to shudder. This wasn’t discomfort, but pain.
He leaned forward and took her wrist in his hand, testing her pulse. It was wild, but her shaking body stilled slightly. He squeezed his fingers around her wrist and she was able to draw in a full breath. She gave the tiniest nod of her head, then collapsed back against the seat, wrapping her free hand tightly around her stomach.
As he watched, her breathing evened out. Goose bumps pebbled across her skin as the sweat dried, and her heartbeat steadied under his fingers. She twisted her arm, just slightly. He knew that motion. She wasn’t trying to pull free of his hand, just testing, feeling the hold he had on her. Well, wasn’t that interesting?
“How old are you?” he asked as he reached for her other hand. He wrapped his fingers around the delicate wrist and squeezed ever so gently.
Her shoulders relaxed and her expression softened, just a bit.
“Twenty-eight.”
“Pull your legs up.”
She startled, but complied, pulling her legs up onto the seat, tailor style. He knelt in front of her, his legs flush against the chair’s base.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes met his for a full minute before blinking rapidly and falling to his chin.
Hope. He’d seen hope in her, as well as fear. His compulsion spell was strictly for words and yet she’d immediately responded to his commands. He almost hated to ask her another question. To bring her pain. But he needed to know what the hell was going on.