Plugging It In

by Lexxie Couper

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Plugging It In

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

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  Note from Lexxie

  eBooks by Lexxie Couper

  Lexxie recommends … Mari Carr & Lexxie Couper

  Excerpt

  Until Bran, until RG, the only emotional connections he’d ever had were toxic, horrific ones. He’d run from the first—his abusive parents. He’d barely survived the second—the debased, desperate connections needed by those living on the streets. And when he’d been saved from that, Meitek had demanded no emotional connection at all.

  Opening yourself up to that kind of relationship, one that involved your heart as well as your mind, only ended with complications too tormenting, too painful to endure.

  So he’d shut off his heart, denied it, denied how he’d felt for Bran, for RG, thinking it was for the better. Thinking he knew better.

  He’d been an idiot.

  And nowhere near as smart and detached as he thought he was.

  Now, here he was—with RG and her wild, unconventional heart, and Bran…the man he’d run from for fear of breaking him.

  Would he do so still?

  Could Bran survive Ruckus?

  About to fucking find out.

  Tearing his lips from hers, he scooped her off the floor and threw her over his shoulder.

  She giggled, wriggling against him for a moment.

  He smacked her arse.

  She laughed. “This is nowhere near as comfortable as it looks in porn.”

  “Shush, woman.”

  She wriggled some more. “You’re gonna pay for that woman, Ruck—”

  He hitched her higher onto his shoulder. “Bedroom, Brannum.”

  A small smile played with Bran’s lips before he turned and strode from the room. Ruckus knew firsthand what his bedroom was like—a massive, plushly carpeted area, with one wall made entirely of glass, sweeping million-dollar views of Sydney Harbour, and a king-size bed made from burnished iron, with supple leather shackles concealed at each corner.

  He’d bound Bran to the bed using those shackles more than once.

  His cock—already engorged to the point of pain—jerked in his trousers.

  There’s no coming back from this. Not for you, not for RG, not for Bran. Everything changes after this. Everything.

  Plugging It In

  Stimulated, Book 4

  Lexxie Couper

  Published 2017 by Book Boutiques.

  ISBN: 978-1-944003-93-7

  Copyright © 2017, Lexxie Couper.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of Book Boutiques.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or events is wholly coincidental. The names, characters, dialogue, and events in this book are from the author’s imagination and should not to be construed as real.

  Manufactured in the USA.

  Email support@bookboutiques.com with questions, or inquiries about Book Boutiques.

  Blurb

  RG Bailey is at the top of her game. Literally.

  As the most successful online game designer in a male-dominated industry, RG bows to no one—in the boardroom. Outside of the office, she’s learned she’s only too eager to bow down to Ruckus Tyrell, the only man to ever overcome her one-and-done rule in the bedroom.

  Before RG, Ruckus avoided relationships. Avoided them so hard, he willingly gave up Bran West, the only person he’d ever loved, besides RG. But when his current lover meets his ex, Ruckus is revved to discover the trio’s mutual sexual spark.

  Can he have it all? Ruckus plans to find out. It’ll either be game on—or game over.

  Dedication

  For Kelli Collins. Who started the Stimulated journey with me many years ago.

  Acknowledgement

  Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs, Tibbs Design

  Editor: Kelli Collins

  Chapter 1

  Sydney, Australia

  It was time RG kicked Ruckus out of her bed.

  He’d been in it eight times in the last two months. That was seven more times than her One-and-Done rule about men in her bed allowed. Four of those times he’d actually slept in it, as well as making her come so often and so masterfully she’d forgotten for a moment who she was.

  Forgetting who she was due to mind-shattering pleasure was one thing. Heck, even waking up to his hard, sinewy, tattooed body beside her was one thing. Both of those things were all very well and good (really good, to be honest. Ruckus was the best lay of her life), but mind-shattering pleasure and a hard, sinewy, tattooed body spooning her didn’t make up for the snoring.

  Damn, did Ruckus know how to snore.

  Raking her hands through her hair, RG watched the security surveillance expert’s chest rise and fall as the buzzing sound tore from the back of his throat.

  Deciding it was now or never, she reached over and pinched his nostrils shut.

  A split second of silence filled her bedroom, followed by a grunting cough as Ruckus spluttered awake.

  RG grinned at him, resting her elbows on her bent knees. “Time for you to fuck off, Ruckus.”

  He squinted at her, scratched his belly, yawned, and then sat up. “Okay.” He swung his long, lean legs over the side of the bed and straightened.

  She made a half-hearted attempt to not check out the sublime perfection of his naked arse as he plodded away from the bed towards the bathroom.

  He really was the hottest fucking bastard she’d ever laid eyes on. Unorthodox, a little wild, more than a little crazy, a tad enigmatic (okay, tad was an understatement), ridiculously intelligent, and partial to scary-looking tattoos inked into his smooth brown flesh with exquisite skill by his equally enigmatic cousin, Lincoln.

  Everything she wanted in a guy, really.

  He disappeared into her bathroom. A few seconds later came the sound of him evacuating his bladder.

  RG rolled her eyes. “Y’know, you could close the door when you do that.”

  He didn’t answer. Not straight away. In fact, it was a few minutes after the sound of the loo flushing and the bathroom tap running that he poked his head around the bathroom door and looked at her, a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, white foam slicking his lips.

  “Y’know,” he pulled the toothbrush free of his mouth and pointed it at her like a finger, “the only reason you’re kicking me out is because you’ve just realized you’ve fallen in love with me and it’s scaring the shit out of you.”

  RG blinked.

  He shoved the toothbrush back into his mouth, gave her a look she had no hope of interpreting, and disappeared back into the bathroom.

  She blinked again.

  In her chest, her heart began an attempt to mimic a semi-automatic machine gun with the trigger duct-taped to the “pulled” position.

  Love?

  Her? In love? With Ruckus?

  Ruckus? She’d only known him for a few months, six at the most. She didn’t even know his last name. Sure, she’d been sleeping with him for the last two months, and whoa baby, how incredible was that? But still? How could she possibly be in love with him?

  Because he’s unorthodox, a little wild, more than a little crazy, a tad enigmatic, ridiculously intelligent, and partial to scary-looking tattoos?

  True. All true. Plu
s he was the most incredible lover she’d ever had. And he cooked Thai food better than any Thai restaurant she’d eaten in. Both here in Australia and in Thailand.

  And she’d broken her One-and-Done rule with him. That said a lot.

  Well, fuck.

  “No.” Shaking her head, she scrambled off the bed. Damn near threw herself off it with such frantic force her hand missed the mattress.

  She tumbled over its edge, her shoulder thumping the mattress, followed by her boobs and then her hip as she fell forward. The cascade effect took hold and, no matter how much she flailed—for grip and dignity—she fell face first towards the floor.

  She hit it with a thud, dull pain blooming in her elbow and cheek even as Ruckus’s accusation taunted her.

  In love with me.

  She scrambled to her feet, heart wild, and looked at the open bathroom door.

  “No.” She stomped across her bedroom. “No, I’m not in love with—”

  Oh boy.

  He stood naked, leaning against the bathroom sink, ankles crossed, hands perched on the edge of the sink beside his butt, a dark eyebrow arched, his lips twitching. “Did that hurt?”

  Damn it, why the hell were his eyes so icy blue and intense? It was hard to be indignant when his eyes were so exquisite. She rubbed at her elbow, scowling. “No.”

  He smiled. “Okay.”

  She checked him out. She couldn’t help it.

  One of the reasons for her One-and-Done rule with men stemmed from the fact that after bonking them, she was instantly bored by them. Ruckus was never, ever boring. Okay, some of her previous sexual partners technically had better bodies than him, and some had been quite adventurous in their efforts to please her, but the moment the deed was done, those bodies, that effort failed to keep her attention.

  Ruckus, however…

  Crossing her arms over her breasts, she narrowed her eyes at him. Her inner arms rubbed against her nipples, and for a second, the memory of him sucking and biting them with hungry dominance overwhelmed her. A hot place in the junction of her thighs grew warmer. Her belly fluttered.

  Oh man, she’d jump his bones right now if he wasn’t spouting such rubbish. Love? Huh. No way.

  “Why do you think I’m in love with you?”

  He chortled, a word she’d never used to describe anyone else’s laugh but his. Other people in her world laughed, chuckled, guffawed, giggled, but Ruckus chortled: a sound part laugh, part snicker, part ambiguous vocalization of what he thought of the situation.

  Like the rest of him, it was as sexy as all hell.

  Well, apart from the snoring. That wasn’t sexy.

  “You told me so,” he answered, watching her.

  His morning hard-on was as impressive as it had been when she’d woken beside him less than half an hour ago. Maybe even more impressive; long and thick with just the right amount of veins ridging its length, its head a deliciously fleshy dome that felt so good sliding into her—

  Wait, what? She’d told him what?

  She snapped her focus up to his face. “I did what?”

  “You told me you loved me last night.” He pushed off the edge of the sink to turn and face the mirror hanging on the wall above it. His gaze caught hers in the reflection for a heartbeat before he looked at himself in the glass and smoothed his hand over his shaved-bald head.

  “When?”

  He chortled again, checking out the dark stubble on his jaw, his chin, with a scrape of his fingers. “Just before you killed me with the Soul-shearing Sword.”

  “In Hell’s Harbour?” RG narrowed her eyes. Okay, not what she thought he’d been talking about. Now, if only her heart would slow down a bit. “If that’s what you’re talking about, I’m pretty certain I said fuck you.”

  He shrugged, dropped his hand from his jaw, and turned back to her. “Same thing, really.”

  “Shit, you scared me for a moment.” She slumped and rubbed a shaking hand over her stomach. “I thought you were serious.”

  Mesmerizing blue eyes regarded her for a beat, unreadable, indecipherable, and then he grinned. “Yeah, imagine how horrible being in love with each other would be.”

  RG rolled her eyes and shuddered, ramping up the melodramatic terror. “I know.”

  He straightened away from the basin. “And on that high note, I have to get to work and so do you. Don’t you have a meeting of some sort this morning?”

  RG jerked her stare to the watch on her wrist. “Shit.” She spun on her heel and sprinted for her wardrobe. “Shit shit shit.”

  She was going to be late. Though it didn’t really matter if she was. The CEO of Virt.Real Distributors, Brannum West, would wait for her. Her online game, Hell’s Harbour 2, was going to make his company very, very rich, after all, but she hated being late. It was a sign of bad character.

  Yanking open her wardrobe, she searched frantically for something appropriate to wear to the introductory meeting with West. Something kick-arse and professional all at once.

  Her Han Shot First T-shirt? Her Gandalf and Dumbledore Make Magic Together T-shirt? Her dragonscale Handbag of Holding?

  Warm lips pressed to her temple, just as an equally warm hand cupped her naked butt and squeezed. “Have fun today,” Ruckus murmured before capturing the side of her throat with his lips and giving her a rough, sucking kiss there. “See you later.”

  He left before she could correct him. Later was not going to happen. His unprecedented dream-run in her bed was finished. Over.

  Really?

  “Really,” she muttered, tugging a T-shirt (I Am Groot) over her head. Breaking Ruckus’s heart made her ill, but it was time. Besides, who said his heart was going to get broken? They’d never agreed to any kind of…of…relationship, after all. Just wild sex, fun, and games. And wild sex. Lots of wild, amazing, incredible…

  “Enough, woman!”

  Ten minutes later, morning hygiene and cleaning routine taken care of, and with her tie-bleached Levi’s hugging her legs and butt, her knee-high purple Doc Martens laced tight, and her emerald-green, fake-dragonskin messenger bag slung over her shoulder, she hurried from her bedroom.

  Her hair could stay the way it was. When your hair was glossy deep sable, straight as a die, thicker than molasses, and shaved on the left side above and behind your ear, you could get away with it looking a little wild.

  The unmistakable aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled her nose as she strode into her apartment’s living room.

  Coffee? She hadn’t made…

  Her Doctor Who travel mug sat on the kitchen counter, waiting for her.

  A warm flurry of happiness washed over her. She squashed it. Making coffee for her? That wasn’t what an emotionally detached fuck-buddy did. What was he trying to do? Make her like him or something?

  “Bastard.” She picked up the warm mug from the counter and walked for the door. She was going to make him pay for that thoughtful kindness tonight.

  She was driving her car out of her apartment building’s underground garage when it dawned on her what she’d done.

  Mentally put him back in her bed that night.

  Damn it. What the hell did she do now?

  *

  Nerves gnawed at Brannum West, a disconcerting, unfamiliar emotion.

  He hadn’t become CEO of the country’s most successful electronic entertainment distribution company by being nervous. Clients—no matter how big, no matter how golden—never made him nervous. He held the cards, as it were. The manufacturers of products needed his company, his business acumen, to see their games and merchandise on the shelves of stores and in the homes of the buyers. He wielded the power in the relationship, and wielded it to perfection.

  But this next meeting… This next client…

  Rosemary Bailey, or as her assistant insisted he call her, RG, fell into a completely different category of client, however.

  The introductory meeting about to take place as soon as she arrived had nothing to do with the nerves taking massi
ve bites out of his calm and poise. When it came to business transactions and dealings, Bran was icy calm and collected control.

  RG Bailey, however, and the online-game empire worth millions she’d created with Hell’s Harbour, was a different matter.

  For starters, today’s meeting was about his company becoming the sole worldwide distributor of Hell’s Harbour 2, the eagerly anticipated follow-up to the original game.

  For another thing, he and RG had been circling each other sexually for a while now, although not in the traditional sense. They’d never met personally, but in Hell’s Harbour, they’d shared more than one sexually charged moment. A lot more than one.

  Thank Christ she was clueless to that. One of the attractions of online role-playing games—your real-life identity was always a secret.

  Now if only he could get these nerves under—

  The door to his office swung open and his personal assistant sashayed into the room. “Ms. Bailey from Elemental Games to see you, Mr. West.”

  Bran drew a deep breath and nodded. Here we go. “Send her in, Jacinta.”

  Jacinta pivoted on her heel—how the hell did she walk in stilettoes that high?—and strutted out of his office.

  Bran held back a grunt. Jacinta was good at her job, but damn, did she have attitude. More than one client had commented how intimidating she was. It worked for Bran, but he hoped that intimidation didn’t put RG off.

  Jesus, West. Get ahold of the nerves.

  His door opened again and RG Bailey strode into the room, making Jacinta’s attitude look ham-fisted.

  Rising to his feet, he watched her approach his desk, his heart thumping fast.

  RG was famous in the gaming world for her appearance and today he could see why. Her warrior-woman hair with its shaved side stirred in him something hungry. The black eyeliner—so thick it made her blue eyes almost hypnotic—did the same. Screw socially accepted ideals of being normal, her eyes said.

  He swallowed. Even the way the lights of his office glinted off the multitude of piercings in her ears unnerved him.

  Game creators never failed to be unique and unconventional. As CEO of Virt.Real Distributors, he was used to their eccentricities, but the sheer presence of RG knocked him sideways.