Damage Control

by M. S. Parker

  And the sooner I finished here, the sooner I could make sure she knew how I felt about her.

  Thirty

  Paige

  Damn traffic. I was supposed to meet Reb at The Kamden McBride Foundation ten minutes ago. He hadn’t told me details about what he planned to do before, but he had said that he was going to do some of his own work on his new image.

  I pressed my hands against my stomach, hoping to calm the butterflies fluttering there. Just the thought of seeing him again had my body reacting like I hadn’t been with him just last night. I knew some people may have written it off as merely something physical. My first taste of sex had been a pleasurable experience. Of course, I’d want more.

  And I did.

  But it wasn’t only that.

  What I felt was too fast, too soon, but I couldn’t control it.

  As my taxi pulled up to the building, I pushed aside everything I was feeling and focused on the work we were about to do. I had to take things one day at a time with Reb.

  He was already there when I arrived, and I took a moment to watch him with a pair of kids who were here for family day. He was so good with them. We hadn’t talked about kids or marriage or anything permanent, and a few weeks ago, I would’ve laughed if anyone had talked about thinking of a future with someone they’d only known for such a short time, but it was so easy to picture him playing with his own kids.

  With our kids.

  Fuck.

  I took a steadying breath and started toward him. He turned before I reached him, his entire face lighting up. He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me up so he could kiss me. He kept it chaste but didn’t put me down when he broke the kiss.

  “I know this isn’t the most romantic time or place, but I can’t wait any longer.” His expression was serious. “I love you, my Paige.”

  Reb’s timing hadn’t gotten any better since the night he told me how he felt.

  The eight of us had spent the last few days in Aspen, at the home Reb and his friends shared, and it had been amazing. The other women and I had gone shopping while Reb pitched music to Erik for the movie of his new book, and Jace worked with Alix on the cover, then we’d all come together for dinner and movies or skiing. The first night we were all there, we’d decorated the house for Christmas, and last night, we’d done gift exchanges. Today, the other couples had headed to where they’d be spending Christmas, leaving Reb and me alone for the holiday.

  Which meant, tonight, we were using the playroom.

  Over the past three months, Reb had been introducing me to various aspects of the BDSM lifestyle. At first, he’d made it gradual, still concerned about scaring me off, but then I’d bought him a flogger for his birthday and things had taken off from there.

  He’d used that same flogger earlier tonight, and my ass was still smarting, but it wasn’t at the top of the sensations I was feeling at the moment.

  My arms were stretched above my head, the handcuffs around my wrists attached to the chain hanging from the ceiling. A pair of matching silver clamps were attached to my nipples, the chain connecting them to each other. One day, he’d promised to add a third clip for my clit, but I wasn’t quite ready for that yet. The fact that I currently had a thin plastic shaft in my ass, and Reb’s cock in my pussy, was more than enough for now.

  He’d been making these insanely deep, slow strokes, telling me about all the ways he was going to fuck me, all the places we were going to have sex…and I’d been pleading with him to just let me come.

  Then, he’d said the words that proved he had the worst sense of timing of anyone I’d ever met.

  “Marry me, my Paige.”

  Time stopped.

  “What?”

  He pushed himself deep inside me and slid one hand down between my legs. The other, he moved from my waist up to the chain resting just below my breasts. He gave it a little tug, and I let out a gasp.

  “I said, marry me, my Paige.”

  I turned my head slightly to look at him behind me. “Are you really asking me that now? Like this?”

  He chuckled and rotated his hips, sending a ripple of pleasure through me. “I meant to ask you somewhere more romantic, but I couldn’t wait any longer.”

  His fingers began to move over my swollen clit, and I shuddered. I was so close to coming, and he knew exactly how to keep me right on the edge.

  “Should I make you wait until you accept my proposal to let you come?”

  I whimpered, and he put his mouth against my ear.

  “Don’t worry, Paige, I wouldn’t do that to you. You may come.”

  He pulled back, paused for a moment, and then drove into me, hard. I cried out, the combination of overwhelming sensations tipping me over into the sort of orgasm that made my vision go white and my entire body quiver. And then he came too, growling out a declaration of love.

  It wasn’t until he was releasing my restraints, removing the clamps, and doing all the things that a Dom did to take care of his sub, that I gave him his answer.

  “Yes.”

  He appeared to have stopped breathing. “Can you say that again?”

  I smiled and put a hand on his cheek. “Yes, Reb, I’ll marry you.”

  With a laugh, he swept me into his arms and spun me around, singing the first song he’d written for me. My head whirled, and I knew this is what life with him would always be. Full of laughter and love…and music.

  Wow!!! I hope you’ve enjoyed reading the Billionaire’s Muse series as much as I did writing it. As a special treat, I’m writing a bonus novella, Change of Plans (The Billionaire’s Muse – The Wedding). I’m not telling who’s wedding we’ll attend, but everybody will be there, so be sure you are signed up to my newsletter and I’ll email the book to you for free, TWO WEEKS BEFORE the official release on Amazon on Valentine’s day. CLICK HERE to sign up for the free pre-release copy of the book.

  M. S. Parker

  Married a Stripper

  One

  Piety

  My head.

  Shit…my head.

  I had a concussion once, but it hadn’t hurt like this. Moaning, I pulled a pillow over my head and prayed for oblivion. Or death. Right now, I was willing to take either one.

  The pounding inside my skull only got worse, and as the bed shifted under me, my belly started to slosh around, making me feel nauseated too. That was just lovely.

  The bed shifted again, and I snapped, “Would you be still?”

  “Sorry,” a rough voice muttered.

  A rough, deep sexy voice.

  Somehow, that fact managed to penetrate the fog of pain and exhaustion, and I tugged the pillow an inch lower. It didn’t help. It actually made things worse because some moron – probably me – had forgotten to close the curtains last night and now the piercing bright light of a Las Vegas morning was trying to singe my retinas. But I needed to know why I’d just heard a man’s voice in my room.

  No, in my bed.

  There shouldn’t be a man’s voice in my room.

  Or anywhere in my vicinity.

  I tugged the pillow lower.

  Nope.

  A little lower.

  A disgruntled grumble came from my left, and I turned my head.

  Blond hair, sun-streaked and rumpled, hid half his face, but there was no denying one simple fact.

  There was most definitely a naked man just inches beside me.

  And I sure as hell didn’t know him.

  Yelping, I half jumped out of the bed, but fell on my ass as the blankets refused to come with me. They were tangled around his body, hanging on him for long moments before finally coming free.

  I scrambled backward and clambered to my feet just as he shoved upward onto his elbows, looking around with a surly snarl.

  Oh. Wow.

  He was…oh. Wow.

  And naked.

  Oh. Wow.

  “Who the hell are you?” I blurted, my hangover momentarily forgotten as I found myself staring into a pair of beaut
iful, pale blue eyes.

  He blinked, the irritation in his eyes fading, replaced by the same confusion I felt. “I…” Thick lashes, black and dusted with gold on the tips, fell over those amazing eyes, but even that couldn’t hide one plain and simple fact – he was checking me out the same way I’d just checked him out.

  Immediately, my nipples tightened, stabbing into the sheet I held clutched to my breasts.

  “Ah, the name’s Kaleb,” he said softly and thrust a hand through his unruly hair.

  A shiver raced down my spine as he spoke. An accent. I was such a sucker for an accent. “You…” I swallowed and told myself to get a grip. “You’re Australian. Sydney?”

  A thick blond brow shot up. “Good ear. Most Yanks wouldn’t recognize the difference between somebody from Sydney versus somebody from Perth. Spent much time there?”

  “Um, no.” With a weak smile, I shrugged. “My…family travels a lot. Or they used to.” I shrugged, not wanting to get into any of that. Besides, I had other things on my mind. Like why he was in my room. Although that was obvious. He was naked. I was naked. I reached up to push my hair back. Sunlight glinted off something, and I froze.

  “Oh.” Swallowing nervously, I stared at the gaudy thing on my left hand. “Oh, shit.”

  I glared at him, only to see him standing by the side of the bed, staring down at something I didn’t think was his toes.

  What in the hell was he doing? Admiring himself?

  He reached down and understanding dawned, mostly because I saw the empty condom wrapper on the nightstand. Blood rushed to my face, and my head started to spin.

  No. Oh, no.

  “A dream,” I whispered. “This is all a crazy dream.”

  I waited for the sexy Aussie to tell me otherwise or maybe come over and pick me up, kiss me…something that would convince me that maybe this was a dream. He was too busy walking toward the bathroom, treating me to an excellent view of his perfect ass – not an image I could easily look away from.

  “Not happening,” I said and pinched myself hard enough to hurt. Things were looking more and more insane by the minute.

  In desperation, I rushed for the door that opened into the adjoining suite.

  The lights were still off, and it was thankfully dim in there. Astra, my best friend, must have remembered to close the blinds, the wench.

  I fumbled through the dark living room area and found my way into the bedroom. The blinds were pulled there too. I was tempted to just lay down and curl up next to her, but I needed to know what was going on.

  She was snoring softly, and when I shook her, she swatted at my hand. “Not today, baby,” she mumbled.

  “Wake up, Astra. It’s me.”

  She swatted at me again. “Oomph.”

  “Astra!” I shook her harder. When that brought no response, I went to the windows and grabbed a handful of curtains, jerking them open. She screeched behind me.

  “Bitch! Close those damn curtains!”

  “Wake up and talk to me,” I said, ignoring her. If I could handle the marching band in my skull, she could handle the light.

  She cracked an eye open, bloodshot and tired. Okay, she probably had a marching band of her own.

  But unlike me, Astra didn’t get totally wasted and forget things when she got drunk. “What happened last night?” I asked, holding up my hand, wiggling my fingers to give her something to focus on.

  A wide smiled curled her lips, and it even went to her eyes, bloodshot and tired as they were. “What do you mean, what happened? Forgotten already, sweetcheeks?”

  “Astra,” I said slowly, praying for patience. “I’m going to kill you, chop you into tiny pieces, and toss the remains out all over the desert. You’ll be eaten by scavengers before your family even knows you’re missing.”

  “Oh…savage.” She looked unfazed and sat up, lazily stretching her arms over her chest. The skinny strapped silk nightshirt she wore barely managed to cover her considerable...assets.

  I wouldn’t have had so much trouble. But then again, her breasts were probably the only thing holding the shirt up, with its deep vee neckline and high cut sides. Astra had one hell of a body.

  That nightshirt would've gaped down to my belly button. My body was strong and firm in all the right places, but an abundance of cleavage was one thing God had not blessed me with. I was smart, attractive. Confident too. I also had ridiculously wealthy parents who tried to control my life, but no excessive boobs in sight.

  The man upstairs had also seen fit to give me a best friend who was ridiculously insane. She sat on the edge of the bed, grinning at me even though I suspected she was every bit as hungover as I was.

  That was bad.

  Very bad.

  If I got too drunk, things got a bit hazy for me – okay, a lot hazy – but Astra could pack it away like a sailor and not forget a thing.

  “What are you grinning at?” I waved my hand in her face, making light flash off the cheap plastic ring with its gaudy fake diamond. “And what the hell is this?”

  “Isn’t it fantastic? I had to spend like five bucks getting it out of that stupid bubble gum machine after I conned some guy into selling me the quarters. I had to flash him a look down my shirt.”

  She leaned backed on the bed, her weight braced on her hands. I stared at her. “What are you–?”

  I didn’t get to finish because she blathered on. “I’ll tell you what, those things are rigged. They’re even worse than the slot machines. I got so many stupid tattoos. I don’t know what I’m going to do with them.” She shrugged. “I guess I’ll give them to my cousin. Or maybe one of the kids down at the shelter back home.”

  I shoved my hand through my hair. “Forget the tattoos!” I waved my hand at her again, the ring flashing at me mockingly. “This! Explain.”

  “Wow. You really don’t remember anything?” She laughed and got up. Wearing nothing but the nightshirt and a skimpy pair of low cut panties, she came over to me and looped an arm around my neck. “Sweetheart, that handsome hunk of man flesh from Down Under…”

  She paused dramatically, arching her brows as she waited.

  “What?” I demanded, ready to shake her.

  “He’s your husband.” She winked at me and spun away, pausing to stretch before she picked up a robe and tossed it at me. “Here. Put this on. Toga parties are so…college.”

  The robe hit my chest and fell to the floor.

  Gaping at her, I sank down on the edge of the bed while my brain struggled to process her words.

  Husband.

  That was the word she used. I’d heard her correctly, I think. But…maybe not. “Astra, what did you just say?” My voice came out in a weak whisper, not quite the calm and steady tone I’d been shooting for.

  “You got married, girl!” She laughed, sounded delighted. “It’s crazy, the things that can happen in Vegas. Man, I love this city.”

  This was a joke. It had to be a joke. But my heart was racing, and my face felt strangely hot. Pinpricks seemed to dance all up and down my spine, and my head was spinning, but it had nothing to do with a hangover.

  “You can’t be serious. You’re joking, right?” I gave her a look of sheer, hopeful desperation. She had to be joking. Had to.

  Astra smiled, and this time, it was a little less Mad Hatter and a bit more reassuring. “Piety, babe, it was your idea.”

  “No.” Shaking my head emphatically, I said, “No. No, no, no…I get a little reckless, sure, but this has Astra Traore written all over it.”

  “Okay…well.” She poked out her lower lip and shrugged. “Maybe you made a joke, and I thought it was funny, and we got to talking about it. But you were all in!”

  “Why would I go all in about marrying a stranger!” I wanted to scream. Or maybe laugh hysterically. My belly revolted, and another thought occurred to me. I just might be sick. Where was the damn bathroom? I knew where it was on my side of the suite, but in here? Thinking was just too damn hard right now, but I didn’
t want to walk back to my room.

  He was in there.

  That beautiful, gorgeous – what had Astra called him? – hunk of man flesh. A beautiful piece of man flesh. Too beautiful.

  Frazzled, I stared at the floor. The robe caught my eye, and I picked it up, pulling it on before twisting the sheet into a ball. Then I looked up at my best friend. “Since you seem to have a clear grasp of the situation, why don’t you tell me why I supposedly married this guy?”

  “There’s no supposedly about it.” She shrugged and sat down next to me. “You married him. We’ve got it on video, and we’re going to upload it onto YouTube.”

  YouTube…

  “You’re nuts. You’re crazy. My parents will freak out. Hell, this might kill my dad.” Silas Van Allen just might have a heart attack. His precious daughter getting married to some stranger in Las Vegas? I laughed shakily. “Well, we did talk about finding a way to get him off my ass about settling down.”

  “Exactly!” Astra beamed at me.

  Rising to my feet, I pointed a finger at her. “Don’t give me this crap about it being my idea. Maybe I made a joke, but how drunk was I? And how drunk were you?”

  Astra looked hurt. “What? Don’t you think you’re capable of something this dastardly and brilliant?”

  “How about insane?” I flung a hand toward the other suite of rooms. “That’s a human being over there. Apparently, we went and decided to do something just to screw with my dad, and we’re dragging him into it. You know what my dad is like!”

  “Oh, chill out, PS.”

  I made a face at the nickname. “Don’t tell me to chill out. I can’t. I’m freaking out.” Hearing movement next door, I looked at Astra helplessly. “What do I do?” I whispered.

  “Oh, honey.” She came toward me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Relax. Kaleb was all in with the idea once we explained how tight-assed your daddy is.” She stood up and held out a hand. “Come on.”

  I stared at her waving fingers, wondering what she wanted me to do.