Wallace was clearly still trying to bring his substantial wealth and still-considerable influence to bear in his efforts to wrangle reduced sentences for himself and his children, but it would be a long time before any of them would see the light of day beyond prison walls, and that suited Mara just fine. Mrs. Wallace had claimed no knowledge of “any improprieties” in her husband’s businesses, though Mara found that rather difficult to believe. At first Maryellen Wallace had been quite vocal about “standing by her man” but this article noted in closing that she had filed for divorce. Too bad she couldn’t divorce her children.
Mara pushed the paper away and closed her eyes, inviting peace to fill her senses. She breathed in deeply and let the air slowly out. She was safe. She was strong. She was free.
Calmed, she opened her eyes and turned to watch the snow beyond the windows of her cozy home. It was covering the pine trees now, the mountains in the distance already capped with white. She thought about the civil suit that had been filed on behalf of all the girls held captive on the island. Though it was still in litigation and probably would be for a long time as Wallace’s attorneys put up roadblock after roadblock, Mara stood to receive a substantial sum for her pain and suffering, assuming the ruling was in their favor, which it almost certainly would be. While money would never erase what had been done to her, a few million dollars would certainly come in handy.
Her cell phone, resting on the table beside the paper, began to play a tune. Mara picked up the phone and swiped the screen. “Hey there, Esmé. Happy Thanksgiving. Is it snowing where you are?”
Esmé laughed into the phone. “Are you kidding me? It’s seventy degrees and sunny, with a high of eighty-eight expected. When are you coming down to sunny Florida to see me?”
Of all the girls, Esmé’s reunion with her parents had to have been the most poignant and heartfelt. Imagine believing your daughter had been killed, only to discover she was alive. Though none of them would ever entirely get over what had happened to them, Esmé was doing well, living at home with her parents in Florida and, while not yet working, moved each day a step closer to full recovery.
“Maybe by Christmas I’ll have had enough of the snow, and I’ll come down for a visit,” Mara replied. “I’ll send you a picture of the gorgeous view I’m looking at right now outside my window, and you’ll be the one wanting to fly up here.”
They talked awhile longer about nothing much with the easy camaraderie of good friends. “I wish Scarlett had made it,” Esmé said softly.
“Yeah,” Mara agreed, tears suddenly filling her eyes, regret sweeping through her that she hadn’t been able to do more for the girl. Scarlett had been the only one of the girls who hadn't been able to adapt to life after her year-long captivity on Pirate Island. Like Mara, she had no family to speak of, and apparently had sought comfort and escape in the drugs she’d used before her abduction. A month after Mara had left the clinic, she heard Scarlett had been found leaning against a Dumpster behind a strip club, dead of an overdose.
As Mara hung up the phone, she thought about Raeanne, with whom she’d also kept in close touch since their time on the island. Raeanne had resettled in her home state of Georgia and was working toward a master's degree in psychology at the state university in Atlanta.
She had reconnected via Facebook with a guy from high school she’d always had a secret crush on. “I’m crazy about him,” Raeanne had confided in a recent phone conversation. “He’s incredibly supportive about what I’ve been through, but it doesn’t define us as a couple, you know? We’re about the present and the future. He makes me so happy.” She had invited Mara to be the maid of honor in their upcoming wedding, and Mara was looking forward to it, assuming she could get the time off from her new job as general manager at a high-end resort spa located in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
“Wow, I can’t believe I slept this late. Yum, what smells so good?”
Mara turned to the sound of Wes’ voice, her heart leaping like the flames of the fire. He was shirtless, wearing only pajama bottoms, his face creased with sleep. She stood as he approached her, happily allowing herself to be wrapped in his big, warm bear hug.
“That’s the apple pie you smell baking,” she said with a grin, once they’d finished their good morning kiss. “I’ve got the turkey stuffed and ready to go in the oven.”
“Oh, goodie,” Wes said, his very blue eyes hooding with sudden lust. “That means we have plenty of time.” Without warning, he lifted her into his arms. He carried her into the bedroom and set her on the unmade bed. “You look so hot in that flannel nightie,” he teased as Mara giggled. “I have to have you.”
His eyes on hers, Wes untied the string at the waist of his PJs and let them fall away from his strong, sexy body. His cock, already semi-erect, hardened to its full girth and length as Mara pulled her nightgown slowly over her head and tossed it to the floor.
“Christ, you are perfect,” he breathed as he slid onto the bed next to her. He took her into his arms and held her close as he kissed her neck and nuzzled her hair. Mara’s nipples stiffened with pleasure as his tongue swirled over them. She reached for his warm, hard cock, cradling it in her hand as she guided it between her legs.
“I hate how we met,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire, “but I’m so glad we did, my brave, sexy, wonderful woman.”
Mara smiled at his words. When she’d been emotionally strong enough to leave the clinic, Mara had found a small apartment in Asheville, and taken a temporary job in retail to cover her expenses while she’d gotten back on her feet and begun a search for a job in her chosen career. Wes, retired from active undercover work, had arranged for a transfer into administration at the DEA’s Asheville office, and the friendship started while she was in recovery deepened to something more. Wes, always the perfect gentleman, never rushed her in any way as she took the baby steps she needed to take toward regaining intimacy.
Far from treating her like a fragile object, however, Wes seemed to genuinely admire Mara and the other girls’ strength and courage to endure what they’d been through on the island. “I’m so in awe of you,” he had said from the outset, and still said when they talked about the harrowing experience, though that happened less and less as Mara was able to process and let go, with the continued support and guidance of her wonderful therapist.
Mara moaned with ecstatic pleasure as Wes slid his hard, perfect cock inside her, his hands cupping her ass as he pulled her more fully onto his shaft. Words left her, and then all conscious thought burned away in the heat of their fierce yet tender passion. Their bodies moved in perfect tandem as each lifted the other toward a powerful and explosive climax.
Afterward, as they lay side by side in dreamy, post-coital bliss, Mara’s thoughts drifted. She thought about love, and how you might find it where you least expected it to be. She thought about her parents, who had loved to tell the story of how they’d met—each had taken the other’s identical suitcase from an airline’s baggage claim carousel and when they met to make the exchange, the spark between them had been instant, and had never waned. She sighed, thinking how much she missed them, especially on this, her favorite holiday.
Wes reached for her hand and entwined his fingers in hers. “You miss them, huh.”
“What?” Mara turned her head to face the sweet, sexy and apparently clairvoyant man lying beside her.
“Your parents. I know that sigh.”
Mara couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay,” she said. “That’s a little scary, you reading my thoughts based on my sighs.”
Wes chuckled. “You sigh at other times, like a few minutes ago, but that’s a very different sound,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows à la Groucho Marx. Sobering, he said gently, “They’re still here, you know. In your heart. In mine, too, because I love you.”
Tears filled Mara’s eyes, not because she was sad, but because Wes was so perfect. “Thank you for reminding me. I love you, Wes.”
“And I love you, Mara
.” Wes sat up suddenly. “And I need coffee!” Turning back to face her, he added, “And don’t you worry, my mom and dad can’t wait to take over. After four boys, they’ve always wanted a daughter.”
Mara laughed. “Your parents are great. I look forward to being their daughter.” The flash of the diamond glinting on her ring finger caught her eye as she added, still grinning, “And I can’t wait to be your wife.”
Punished
His darkest fantasy… Her worst nightmare…
When the boss discovers Jessie’s clandestine S&M business, and that she’s using his company resources to run it, he issues an ultimatum she doesn’t dare refuse. Backed into a corner, scared and desperate, Jessie will do just about anything to hold his threats at bay.
Cutting Eric in on the profits of her S&M venture is a start, but he wants more…much more. Giving in to his darkest impulses, he steps far outside the bounds of safe, sane and consensual. For Jessie, being kept naked and caged is only the beginning…
Chapter 1
A dark-haired woman in a black leather corset, thong panties and stiletto heels appeared on the screen, a riding crop in her hand. A naked guy with a jutting cock knelt at her feet, his face obscured by a black hood.
“Dios mio,” Jessie cried softly.
Eric’s eyes were glued to the screen. He forgot all about his presentation to their potential clients as a jolt of raw lust hurtled from his brain to his cock. A fraction of a second later he realized what, or rather who, was up on that screen.
He whipped his head in Jessie’s direction, stunned.
“Close it,” Jessie whispered urgently.
Coming to his senses, Eric quickly hit the X at the top of the page to close the image, but it wasn’t quick enough.
The CEO jumped to her feet as if springs had propelled her out of her seat. “What is this? Some kind of sick joke?” She jerked her chin toward her underling and began to head for the conference room door.
“Wait, sit back down, please,” Eric said urgently, also coming to his feet. “There’s been some kind of glitch.” He flashed a glare at his assistant, who had flushed a dark red. “We’ll get this fixed right away so you can see the presentation.”
“We’ve seen quite enough, thank you,” the CEO snapped without breaking her stride.
Her second-in-command flashed Eric an apologetic half smile as the woman flounced from the room. “She has a thing about porn. I’ll get her calmed down and we can reschedule.” With that, he, too, left the conference room, and a moment later, they heard the front door of their small suite of offices bang shut.
Eric sank back into his chair at the head of the table, still trying to get a handle on how his prim and proper assistant had transformed into that scorching hot sex queen in the photo. A part of him—the dark part that he never let anyone see— wanted to throw her over his lap, flip up her skirt, yank down her panties, and use that riding crop on her ass. He’d had fantasies about fucking her before, but this new, added layer of intrigue about who the hell she really was had set him on fire.
He swallowed hard, ordering himself to get a grip. A whipping was hardly an acceptable punishment for an employee’s gaff, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d ruined a meeting with a potential client, one his company desperately needed. Just thinking about it made his blood boil. All those months of hard work, gone up in smoke because of Jessie’s brazen stupidity. His fury just seemed to fuel his lust, and it was a struggle to keep himself under control.
Jessie, tears in her large, dark brown eyes, said plaintively, “Eric, I’m so sorry. I have no idea how that picture got there. You have to believe me—”
“What. The fuck. Was that?” Eric said in a hard voice, talking over her. He focused on his anger, willing his erection to subside. “How in the hell did that picture end up on my laptop?”
Jessie reached for the laptop, but Eric snatched it from her reach.
“Answer me.”
Jessie blew out a breath. “It’s not your laptop, Eric. It’s mine. The network operating system crashed just before the presentation. You were busy on the phone so I didn’t want to bother you with it. I guess the software I had running on my computer to view my jpegs didn’t close properly.” Her voice caught and she bit her lower lip. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Eric snapped. “If we lose that account, it’s on your head, missy.” God, he wanted to punish her. Christ, he wanted to fuck her.
“I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I’ll find a way to fix this. But I need that laptop. You have to give it to me. Please.” Again Jessie reached for it.
Eric kept his hand firmly on the laptop. “What else is on this thing, huh?” He couldn’t wait to find out. “This is company property, not a repository for your dirty pictures. I should fire your ass for this.”
A flash of anger passed over Jessie’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a contrite, submissive expression. “Please, Eric. There’s nothing else on there. I swear. It was, um, it was just a joke. A friend just pasted my head on there. It isn’t even me. The photo was sent as a joke. Please, I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Was she telling the truth? Was that her head on someone else’s body? He let his eyes move brazenly over her shapely curves, which she couldn’t altogether camouflage, even in that hideous, high-necked blouse. No—he’d surreptitiously examined her tits, legs and ass often enough to know for certain—that was Jessie Ramos in the photo—from the top of her pretty head to the bottom of those stiletto heels.
She stood and moved closer, so close he could smell her perfume—and her fear. His cock hardened again, his muscles twitching to pull her down and take her then and there.
She managed to keep her voice relatively calm and steady as she again said, “Give me the laptop and I’ll make sure there’s nothing else on it.”
No fucking way. Based on how badly she wanted it back, he’d bet his bottom dollar there was more incriminating evidence on there—lots more—and he planned to find it. And use it.
He shook his head. “No can do, Jessie. That laptop is company property. I’m quite curious to see what the hell you’ve been doing on my time.” He got to his feet. “Meanwhile, you’ve done enough damage for one day. Go home. I’ll call you later when I’ve decided what to do.”
Her passive demeanor slipped again, a thundercloud of anger moving over her face as her dark eyes flashed. She opened her mouth, but then seemed to think better of it. The submissive mask fell back into place, and she nodded. “All right, Eric. Again, I’m so sorry that happened.”
As soon as he could, Eric locked himself in his office, telling his two associates he had some work to catch up on. A thorough search of all the laptop files failed to turn up any more dirty pictures, though he did find the one that had opened during the presentation. It had been saved in a temporary download file. He opened it again, taking his time as he stared at the sexy slut with the flashing eyes and the gorgeous tits.
“Jessie, Jessie, Jessie,” he mused aloud. “Who the fuck are you? And what will you do to make this up to me?”
He massaged his cock through his trousers as he imagined coming up behind the Dominatrix and catching her by surprise. She would turn around, haughty and imperious, demanding that he get out of her dungeon, but he would turn the tables on her. He would grab the crop away from her, rip that sexy corset from her hot body and throw her down, caveman style. After he raped her, he would crop her ass until she begged for mercy.
Focus, Chapman, he reminded himself. Returning to his task, he checked her browser history, but, not surprisingly, it wasn’t set to save. Undeterred, he used his administrative password to tap into the company’s firewall logs and get a list of all the places she’d visited on the internet while on the company network.
The first ten or so were sites she would have visited in the course of her work, but the eleventh click opened on a porn site that read: XXX PussyWhipped–for Dirty Little Boys Who Need t
o Be Punished. Enter Princess Lola’s Dungeon and Prepare to Suffer.
“Bingo,” he said aloud.
A long whip in hand, there stood his office manager, transformed once again into a Dominatrix in full makeup and black leather. “Holy shit,” Eric breathed.
In the two years she’d worked for him, Jessie had never talked about her personal life, nor had she ever gone out with him and the guys for a beer after work, always hurrying away at the stroke of five. Originally from El Paso, she was in her mid-thirties and had been married briefly at one point, but had been divorced for a long time. That was the sum total of his knowledge of her personal life.
He thought about that old Billy Joel song about discovering the stranger in your lover—about the secrets we all keep hidden from the world. He had quite a few dark and secret fantasies of his own, come to that, but he’d never dared act upon them, certainly not to the degree she evidently had.
He had always enjoyed tying up his lovers and playfully spanking them, when they’d allowed it, but it had never gone much past playful slap and tickle. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to, but that he’d wanted it too much.
He had never dared give free rein to his sadistic impulses, not sure where it would lead him. If he really acted out all the nasty shit in his head, he’d end up in jail. His fantasies could be very, very dark.
When he watched porn on the internet, he always sought out the BDSM sites, the rougher and more intense the better, though sites like Jessie’s did nothing for him. No ball-breaking bitches with whips for him—no fucking way. He liked his fantasy women naked and in chains, mascara running down their cheeks as they begged him for mercy.
One of his favorite fantasies involved a slave girl he would keep in a cage by his bed. He would let her out when he wanted to fuck and whip her, and then he would force her back into her prison. It was a fantasy he would never have admitted to anyone, and barely acknowledged himself, except when he had his cock in his hand and his inhibitions lowered.
Dark Obsessions - Volume 2: Four Dark, Delicious Capture Fantasies Page 19