by Zoey Marcel
Evernight Publishing ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2014 Zoey Marcel
ISBN: 978-1-77130-947-9
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
GREEN BROKE WOMAN
Masters of Black Dragon, 1
Zoey Marcel
Copyright © 2014
Prologue
Kayla Sanders blinked at her boss, feeling certain she’d heard him wrong. What had she gotten herself into?
“W-what?” she stammered.
“Are you deaf?” He sounded impatient and grouchy, which was hardly out of character for him.
She swallowed. “No, Sir.”
Something moved through his eyes after she spoke. The rest of his expression told her nothing, but his expressive eyes briefly betrayed his poker face. Was it male satisfaction, a power trip, or something else?
“Then what are you waiting for?” he asked, tone becoming somehow sterner. “Strip.”
Frantic flurries of apprehension and a subtle thrill jolted through her. “W-why do you want me to strip?”
His breathtaking blue eyes narrowed in disapproval. “Are you backing out of this?”
“No, Sir.”
She'd never stripped for anyone before, but she must do this. Hugh Randall would help to make her exactly what the Langley brothers needed in a woman. Slowly she pulled her baby pink T-shirt off over her head and let the garment fall to the hard-wood floor with an almost soundless plop.
Hugh's lips pursed. “Is that how you treat my clothes?”
“Your clothes? It's my top.”
He moved the cane in front of him, pressing hard with both hands on the silver dragon that clung possessively to the balled handle as he stood there. “One thing you'll learn fast is that whatever is yours is now mine. That's how this works. I own you and all of your possessions.”
She gulped nervously, but the idea of him owning her excited her. “Oh.”
His aged features tightened. “Pick up the garment, Kayla. Fold it and place it on the couch like a good girl.”
Her belly flip-flopped with happy jitters at the authority in his distinguished tone. She did as he commanded and then stood at attention, staring directly at him.
“Lower your eyes.”
She let them fall to the floor. “What am I looking at?”
She thought she saw his lips twitch with amusement from her peripheral vision.
“Lowering your eyes is a sign of respect. If you want me to be your Dominant, I'll require it of you. Now finish undressing.”
She took off her jeans first and folded and set them under her shirt, pausing when she realized that all she wore was her purple bra and panties. He arched an eyebrow at her hesitation, and she took a deep breath.
This is for Travis Langley.
Of course there were two other Langley men who motivated her to keep going, but she couldn't think about them right now. She mustered a facade of courage as she unhooked her bra, hoping Hugh wouldn't perceive her lack of experience.
His eyes seemed to burn her breasts as she faked a calm demeanor and laid the bra on her pile of clothes. Now the part she dreaded. She gingerly guided the waistband of her purple panties down her legs and stepped out of them. She felt him watching her as she folded them and then stood still in front of him.
Cover yourself, woman!
Kayla ignored the petrified woman inside of her. She must do this.
Hugh ogled her for a long moment in silence. “Hands behind your back and keep your head down while I examine you.”
Her heart leaped in her throat. “Examine me?”
“Did I give you permission to speak, Kayla?”
“No, Sir. Do I need it?”
He couldn't hide the subtle smile that caught them both off guard as he approached her. “Yes, sub. You do. Now stop talking and let me take a look at you.”
She tried to keep her body from shaking as he stood in front of her. He set the cane aside, and she resisted the impulse to let her eyes wander all over his tall, lean frame. His eyes were all over her nude form, rendering her vulnerable and strangely empowered when she noticed the obvious bulge in his jeans.
His six foot two height easily dwarfed her five feet, four inches. She liked that he was so tall. Walking next to him, she'd be able to get away with wearing several-inch-high stripper heels and he'd still tower over her.
“Why did you stop wearing your glasses?” he asked as he lifted her chin to scrutinize her facial features.
Kayla gulped as the intoxicating aroma of Old Spice filled her lungs, and his steamy blue eyes darted all over her exposed flesh. “I guess I forgot them.”
“Two weeks in a row?
She yelped when he swatted her left breast, making it jiggle upon impact. His pupils dilated with hunger as he watched her bouncing tit.
“Tell the truth.”
She let her eyes slide from his. “I...”
He directed her face back toward him. “Look into my eyes right now.”
“I didn't want you to find me unattractive,” she said meekly, feeling an embarrassing warmth creep into her cheeks.
His countenance softened in an uncharacteristic manner. “You like me?”
Damn, she seemed too desperate. It would probably be a turn-off for a man his age. “Yes, Sir.”
“Glasses don't turn me off. You look very becoming with or without them. If you need them wear them.” His palms cupped her full breasts, and his focus darted up to her face when she gasped softly. “You're responsive. That's good. And these are obviously real. I can tell the difference.”
Her cheeks burned at the degradation, but his little smirk of humor made her slit moisten.
“What size are they?”
If she didn't need him as a Dom she'd smack him upside the head for asking such a personal question. “The tag in my bra says over there.”
Hugh looked annoyed as he flicked his pointer finger against her nipple. The discomfort created a surprising surge of delight to the area.
“I'm asking you, not your bra. I can tell you're a D-cup at least.”
She blushed. “Yes, Sir.”
He seemed satisfied as his hands moved from her breasts to trail down her pudgy tummy. “Stop sucking in your gut.”
She grimaced. How could he tell? She wasn't sucking it in all the way. One must be clever about such things. “I'm not.”
He flashed her a warning look and reached behind her to slap her ass. She jumped a little, suppressing the startled yip of pain.
“Yes, you are. You're not sucking it in all the way, but I can tell you're not completely relaxed. Don't lie to me again.”
“Yes, Sir. How could you tell?”
He kept a straight face, but his blue eyes twinkled slightly. “When you're as old as I am, you know every trick in the book. Relax your stomach. I want to see what I'm really getting.”
She steadily unclenched her muscles, feeling humiliated as he stared down at her softly rounded tummy. She flinched when he placed a weathered palm over her belly, warming the skin beneath his touch.
“You're soft,” he commented quietly.
Her eyes prickled with the need to cry. “Yes, Sir. I eat more calories than I burn. I'll try to work on t
hat.”
He looked at her curiously. “I didn't mean you were fat. I mean your skin feels soft like a woman should. Do you moisturize?”
“Yes, Sir, and I drink a lot of water. It's the one thing I do right.”
Way to sell yourself, Kayla.
A lusty shadow fell over his face, though he seemed to prevent his twitching lips from evolving into a full-blown smile. “I'm sure that's not the only thing you're good at.”
Her folds pooled with warm moisture. She hoped he was right.
Hugh skipped the lower half of her completely and walked around to stand behind her. Being unable to see him and knowing that he ogled her ass made her self-conscious. She shivered when his fingertips trailed up her spine and she felt him lift a strand of her hair from off her shoulder.
“Is this your natural hair color?”
“Yes, Sir, I'm naturally strawberry blonde.”
“It looks like cinnamon to me, but what do I know about hair colors?”
“Isn't there a darker room we could do this in?”
“Are you worried I'm going to see the cellulite?”
Her eyes squeezed shut. “Yes, Sir. I realize my backside isn't what it should be, but I'm willing to work on it, and you don't have to ever go back there. Just focus on my chest.”
He whacked her ass hard, making her cry out in pain.
“If I want you spread out on a table beneath a magnifying glass and bright lights all day, you will be. I'm not offended by your cellulite.”
His answer surprised her. “You're not?”
“No, I'm not. It’s barely noticeable. Even if you had more, it wouldn’t matter to me. I'm hardly the poster boy for male perfection.”
She smiled, feeling her breasts tingle in remembrance of his touch. “You are to me.”
The silence unsettled her. Had she been too blunt?
“There's no need for flattery.” He dragged his fingertips down her back and over her buttocks, evoking thrilling shivers.
“I meant it.”
“What are you supposed to call me, Kayla?”
“Sir.”
“Remember that. So you find me pleasing to look at?”
She smiled, noticing the apparent pleasure in his tone. “Yes, Sir.”
“Even though I'm old enough to be your father?”
She stiffened when he split her butt cheeks open. Oh lord, must he look at her there? What was there to see? “I don't mind, Sir. I think you're handsome and distinguished. You look better than a lot of young men. Younger I mean.”
He snickered. “You're not a gold-digger, are you? If you are, you're in for a disappointment. I'm middle class. Hmm, on second thought, maybe I should have waited until after we screwed to tell you that,” he joked.
Kayla fought the excited grin as nervous butterflies flapped like little psychos in her stomach. Did he actually want her as much as she wanted him?
“Has anyone ever been up your ass?”
A startled gasp tore from her throat, and she came up on her toes when his finger breached her anus and slowly forged inside.
“I'll take that as a no. How many men have you had sex with?”
Her pussy pounded almost as violently as her beating heart. At his age he'd have no interest in an innocent, but how much experience did he want her to have? A handful of men? A passel of flings?
“Don't think about it, just answer honestly.”
“Five.” She waited with bated breath for his response.
His finger slipped from her butt, and he walked back around to the front of her. His hands caressed her hips as he studied her body in silence.
She watched his hands, feeling awakened by his touch and aroused by the sight of masculine hands running over her untouched body.
Her eyes lifted with subtlety to take in the aged perfection of his features. His narrow face bore the lines of a life lived to the fullest. Whether he'd lived to the fullest for positive or negative was up for debate.
His gorgeous sapphire blue eyes were framed by crow's feet at the edges of his lids, and he had bags beneath his droopy eyes that gave him a sad, contemplative look. Those same lost puppy eyes could run cold and give him an austere complexion just as easily. She rarely saw him smile. Stern or reflective seemed to be his primary masks.
His salt & pepper five o' clock shadow called wordlessly to her itching fingers. It looked coarse yet soft. Would he let her touch him?
His nutmeg colored hair had vivid signs of gray in it, but it gave him a distinguished, sexy look. She'd seen his scrapbook when he wasn't around. He'd looked average in those pictures of his youth, but now that time had worked its magic on him he reeked of sophistication and sex appeal.
However, all trace of class that was evident in his appearance was betrayed by his sometimes crude speech. She liked it, though. His ribald comments reminded her of an older version of Jake Langley, the middle Langley brother back home in Kentucky.
Kayla tensed when Hugh knelt as best as he could with his injured leg and smoothed his hands up and down her thighs.
“Any health problems I should know about?”
“No, Sir.” Thank goodness he didn't press for more details about her sexual history.
“You're awfully skittish for someone with experience. Has it been a while since you took a tumble with anyone?”
She tried to relax. “Yes, Sir.”
Her eyes widened, and her breath caught when he cupped her crotch and held his hand there. She felt his eyes burn a trail up her torso to her face that she kept straight ahead. She hoped against all odds that she wasn't blushing, but her warm cheeks told her otherwise.
He used the couch as leverage and pushed himself to his feet again. “How long?”
“I can't remember.” Crap, was he onto her?
“Try.”
“Um...”
Her mouth fell open when his finger found her entrance and pushed gently into her vagina, propelled by her slickness.
“You act like it's been years since anyone touched you like this. You're not a virgin, are you? I don't do those, remember?”
She donned her bedroom eyes and softened her shaky voice to a confident purr. “I haven't been a virgin for a long time.”
A naughty half smile curved his lips, and he watched her closely as he added a second finger to her virgin tightness. She flinched, trying not to make faces at the pain.
“How many fingers can you take?”
Oh God, how could she possibly take more? Two of his fingers stretched her to the point of burning pain.
“Three.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Don't show off!
Hugh added another finger into her pussy. “It has been a while. You're tight as a virgin.”
“But I'm not a virgin,” she said quickly, biting her bottom lip against the painful stretch.
He gave her a suspicious, almost knowing look. “I never said you were. That would mean you lied to me. A good submissive wouldn't lie to her Dominant. Am I right?”
“Yes, Sir.” She had to look away, trying not to quiver beneath his scrutiny and the accusing silence that gnawed at her.
He pulled his fingers from her and knelt on the floor again. “Spread your legs wider.”
She refrained from squirming with embarrassment as she obeyed.
After a moment of examining her parted folds closely, he stood, heaving an irritated sigh. “You still have your hymen.”
Her mind raced. What the hell was a hymen? She tried to hide her nervousness. “What's that?”
He gave her a disapproving glance. “The hymen is a membrane of skin that generally tears when a woman loses her virginity. For some it takes a few times, and some women are born without one. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but unless those five men you screwed were packing Pixie Sticks for cocks, your hymen should have broken long ago.”
Her eyes fell and watered. She glanced at her pile of clothes, wanting desperately to cover herself.
He jerked her chin up, triggeri
ng one rebel tear to trickle with rampant defiance down her cheek.
“You lied to me. You're still a virgin.”
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
He let go of her jaw and grabbed his cane, walking away from her. “The deal's off. Get going. You're fired.”
“Please don't fire me. I really need this housekeeper job. I like working for you.” That was an understatement. Hugh fascinated her endlessly, and the thought of leaving and not seeing him again bothered her. “I'm sorry I lied, but I need a Dom.”
“You're not ready for one.”
“Then make me ready. Please, I have to do this.”
He turned to face her again, looking annoyed. “Why?”
Her eyes welled more. Blinking failed to keep the unbidden tears at bay. “I have someone back home. I want to be with them, but the things they need... I want you to train me to be the perfect submissive for them.”
Hugh lifted a curious brow. “Them?”
“Him,” she said quickly. “I meant him. Sorry.”
“The cowboy you mentioned before?”
Kayla nodded, unable to refrain from smiling when she remembered the sweet, hunky catch that was Travis Langley. Someday she'd go home and be what he needed, but first she must prepare herself, and if she could land her acting career like she'd come to California to do, well then, even better. The three Langley men would never be able to resist a famous star that also had the submissive qualities they seemed to want in a woman.
Hugh tapped his finger against the handle of his cane. “If—and it's a big if—if I train you as my submissive, we play by my rules. No more lies. I want to know where you are at all times, and you're coming here to live with me.”
Her heart pattered with enthusiasm in her chest. “Yes, Sir. Thank you so much.”
She reached for her clothes, bringing her hands to her side again when he made an “ub bub ba” noise.
“Not so fast. I didn't tell you to dress yet. How old are you?”
“Twenty-two ... Sir.”
He scowled. “Twenty-two and you didn't know what a hymen was. Were you brought up in a cave?”