by L. K. Rayne
My knees felt weak, ready to spill me onto the ground. My nipples hardened. Heat pooled down in my core. I was putty in his hands. At that moment, if he wanted me, he could have had me and I would have offered no resistance.
But instead, Ethan retreated, slamming his back against the opposite wall. My eyes adjusted to the dim lighting diffusing over from the living room in the suite.
“Don’t push me.” He raked his hand through his dark locks, catching his breath. “You won’t like it.”
The need between my thighs only ached hotter, making me bold, careless. Even as my pulse roared in my ears, something in me wanted to go just a little too far, push a little too hard. I wanted to unravel his facade. I wanted to reveal the core of Ethan Thorne.
Stepping up to him, I rubbed my hand against his crotch. “I’m not interested in playing games,” I said, feeling him through the thin fabric straining at half mast.
Ethan’s eyes went wide and his breath caught in his chest.
I smirked at him. “And you don’t seem too interested in playing games either.”
Shaking my blazer off, I reached down to my midriff and almost tore my blouse off. The vents overhead blew cold air across my naked skin and I would have shivered if it weren’t for the heat between us and my hungry impatience.
“You’re out of control.” His voice rumbled low, his eyes drinking my cleavage, bared and exposed to him.
No, I wasn’t out of control enough.
“What are you going to do about it?” I unbuttoned his tuxedo, tearing it off of his shoulders.
He grasped my upper arm, his rough hand like a brand against my cool skin.
“You going to hold me down?” I asked, untying his bow tie, pulling him to me by his collar. I bit his bottom lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. “Tie me up?” I teasingly suggested.
He growled. “Is that what you want?” His eyes glimmered dangerously in the light.
A dark promise.
I let the fear move through me for a moment, then pushed it down. We were past the point of no return, for me, if not for him.
“Is that what you want?” I threw back at him.
Before I knew it, I was reaching for his pants. Ethan moved his hands to my wrists, gripping them tightly enough to hurt.
We weren’t playing anymore.
I wrenched my shoulders away, pulling and twisting against his strength. My elbow connected with his sternum and we both went down. Our limbs tangled together on the floor, but I came out on top.
I sat up, straddling his legs. Frantically, I scrabbled for his belt, my fingers working. His abs tightened, like he was getting ready to get up. I pushed his chest back down with both hands.
He didn’t like that.
Ethan rolled his body over on top of me, the fine fabric of his dress shirt pressed against my bare skin. His eyes glinted in the low light, intense, questioning. If he hadn’t been on top of me, those eyes alone would have trapped me. His knee lifted between my legs and I spread myself for him, letting him touch me there. I whimpered, grinding against him, heat flooding my cheeks.
In a flash, his hands were on me, his fingers digging into my sides. He flipped me over like I weighed nothing, until I was face down on the floor. Ethan on top of me, his body holding me down, pressing my breasts against the scratchy rug. Then I felt his erection, unyielding and hot against my back. My heart pounded, a surge of heat pooling in my belly. We both paused for a moment to catch our breaths, the air cooling a slick sheen of sweat on my skin.
His weight shifted above me, and then there was only pressure on the small of my back. I squirmed, trying to escape, but I was pinned against the floor, completely helpless. I craned my neck back, trying to see what he was doing, but could only see the side of the ornately carved wooden couch.
Ethan hiked my pants up, by my right ankle. There was something tender and erotic about his motions, even though I couldn’t see anything. I closed my eyes savoring the sensations. Something slippery and cool snaked around my ankle, once, twice, then knotted firmly against my skin.
Panic rose in my chest.
I thought we were just horsing around but he was really tying me up.
Where had he even gotten the rope?
But wasn’t this what I wanted? What I’d been pushing for?
“Wait,” I protested, fear overcoming the arousal.
Abruptly, all of his weight was gone, and despite my fear, I felt myself mourning an absence.
I flipped over, scrambling to my feet. I propped myself against the arm of the couch and crossed my arms defensively in front of my breasts, trying to retain whatever dignity I had left. Even though I’d initiated the game of chicken, now I was the one who got too scared.
Ethan stood a safe distance away, chest heaving, hair tousled. His face was clouded with emotion. He lifted his eyes slowly, raking them over my body, before resting them at my gaze.
I broke away, looking down. There, on my ankle was a crimson ribbon tied into a neat bow. With a start, the realization came flooding back. It was the same ribbon that he had pocketed earlier in the evening. He held onto that the entire evening? But why would he…
Ethan was staring at me intently, his eyes shiny in the darkness, his chest breathing hard, his cock clearly straining against the thin fabric of his pants.
He said, “I’ve let you have your fun, Sierra.”
Sierra.
Sierra.
My own name echoed in my head. Blood pounded in my ears, making me feel dizzy. I blinked, trying to fight the growing numbness in my chest, acting as if it meant nothing. As if he hadn’t just said my name. As if he didn’t know who I was the entire evening. I bent down, fumbling with the silk ribbon, trying to untie it, to undo the past.
“Don’t,” he commanded, almost grunted. “This time, you’re the one who will have to wait.”
The hairs on the back of my neck tingled.
I froze, unsure. Waiting. Watching, as Ethan Thorne took one shuddering breath, walked to the door and left the room.
Mr. Thorne will return...
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Dear Lovely Reader,
Thank you so much for reading Silk & Thorne! I’ve certainly had a blast writing this story and I’m overjoyed that it is finally in your hands.
Stories are my favorite way to connect with people, but sometimes writing a book can feel like a lonely road with sparse feedback along the way.
After the publication of Silk & Thorne, I’ve been delighted to find that one of the greatest joys of this process has been seeing reviews from readers like yourself. If you loved this story, I’d love to hear about it! What was your favorite scene? Maybe a favorite moment?
Again, thank you so much for taking the time to read my book. There are an endless number of books to choose from, so as an author just starting out, I truly appreciate you giving me a chance! :)
Cheers,
Liv
Mr. Thorne appears in the Silk & Thorne Trilogy:
Silk & Thorne
Satin & Thorne
Lace & Thorne
Satin & Thorne (Silk & Thorne 2)
All it took to upend my entire world, was a single silk ribbon.
The first night I met Ethan Thorne, we’d been hiding behind masks, dancing around the inevitable. I should have been content to watch from afar, to forbid myself from veering too close. But falling into our old patterns felt natural, the promise of a challenge hypnotising me into reckless action.
I’d wanted to say goodbye, to apologize for the pain I’d caused all those years ago, but Ethan wouldn’t let me go so easily. With a single silk ribbon, he bound our destinies together.
Now, we begin a new game, around pain and pleasure
, with consequences beyond seduction and submission. Will this new game allow us to rediscover our connection and overcome the past or are we condemned to keep repeating the same mistakes?
With our hearts on the line, all we can do is put our masks on, and pretend this game won’t change us, won’t hurt us, won’t end.
Keep reading for an exclusive excerpt from Satin & Thorne (Silk & Thorne 2)…
Ethan wore a casual pair of khaki slacks, a brown belt, and a light blue shirt. Even though he was no longer outfitted in the same formal wear as that night at the charity ball, he was still a sight to behold. His hair was loosely tousled, not messy, yet not formally styled, contrasting with his clean shaven jaw line.
He stopped at the door. I caught a whiff of his cologne with a passing breeze. The scent instantly transported me to that hazy night more than a week ago in the Imperial Grand Hotel when—for a brief moment—we’d been skin against skin, breath against breath, lips against lips.
But now the haze had lifted and everything was illuminated in the light of day.
And on the sunny 5600 block of El Camino in Los Angeles we watched each other awkwardly, him outside my shop, me safely inside, the door ajar between us.
For a beat neither of us knew what to say, but he flashed me a relaxed smile. I suddenly remembered the feeling of his calloused hands, heavy against my ribcage.
Blood rushed to my cheeks and I fought the instinct to pretend like I hadn’t seen him.
Fat chance of selling that one.
“Hi,” said Ethan.
“I’m sorry, um. We’re closed. I mean,” I shook my head, “I’m still going to be here, but we’re by appointment only after five so… I guess we’re not technically closed but uh… are you… what are you here for?”
Smooth Sierra, real smooth.
Ethan leaned over in order to avoid talking to me from behind the door and presented his cellphone. There was an email open. I could feel him watching me as I scanned the screen.
The email was a standard confirmation for appointments. Specifically, an appointment at our shop: Venus Floral Design.
My consultation for the evening was Ethan Thorne?
But that was ridiculous, I’d checked the appointment book and the name was definitely Stephen Reinsmar. I always made a point of learning my client names before their meetings.
“There must be some sort of mistake,” I said scanning the email again. Sure enough, the reservation was for Stephen Reinsmar. “Yes, this confirmation is for someone else.”
Ethan cracked a grin at me through the door. “Alter-egos have their uses, especially for someone in my position.” He helpfully added, “I’m sure you understand.”
Was that a jab at me?
Calling April’s nickname for me an “alter-ego” would have been stretching it, but I could see where he might get that idea from.
I reminded myself not to jump to conclusions in my panicked state.
It wasn’t that uncommon for celebrities to use pseudonyms to make reservations in order to avoid the paparazzi or crazed fans. Even our little shop had gotten a few of those. Booking an appointment under a different name could have been entirely innocent—Ethan Thorne’s standard operating procedure. Either way I had to wrestle with the fact the he’d decided to show up right here at my shop. Of course, I’d expected to hear from Ethan again after how our last meeting had ended, but I still wasn’t ready. I thought I’d have more time.
And wasn’t Ethan the type of guy who was very busy?
Which begged the question: Why was he here? To talk? Talk about what?
“May I come in?” Ethan asked. “It’s a little hot out here.”
I realized that I was leaning my entire weight against the barely open door, as if bracing myself against it might be a good defense against having Ethan in my flower shop. At the same moment, I realized that he must’ve been pushing equally hard to keep the door open. Embarrassed, I relented. Ethan, consciously or unconsciously, eased off as well.
“Yes, of course, come in,” I said, stepping back and swinging the door open, my mind racing through the possible reasons that Ethan could have wanted to make an appointment. I’d promised April that I’d keep an open mind, and I had resolved to go with the flow, but I wasn’t exactly prepared for whatever this was.
And what if he was here to confront me about the past?
Sorry about that minor incident fifteen years ago when I told you we’d run away together but I ditched you instead... Kids do the darndest thing, am I right? P.S. You’re a great kisser.
Or what if he was here to talk about the more recent past, when we’d almost had sex in his hotel room?
I couldn’t decide which would be worse.
Satin & Thorne (Silk & Thorne 2)
Copyright © 2018 by 1907 Publishing LLC
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Copyright © 2018 by 1907 Publishing LLC
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.