Stealing Serenity
Reese Gabriel
Book 4 in the Tall, Dark and Dominant series.
Career-obsessed Serenity is thrilled to discover that the fake date she’s procured for a big company dinner leads an alternative lifestyle. What better way to avoid any possibility of a time-consuming relationship? Unfortunately the ruggedly handsome, sexy Ross Lassiter isn’t gay, as she’d thought—he’s a sexual dominant.
Sparks fly as Serenity insists she could never be submissive, but Ross knows exactly how to tap into her deepest fantasies of whips and chains and a tall, dark Master. Ross seduces her gradually, sending her outrageous lingerie, engaging her in wicked phone games.
As her fantasies explode into reality, Serenity must balance two worlds. Ross is the one in control but what happens when his emotions come into play? Could Serenity be the one—his partner and bedmate for life? Serenity holds the key, assuming she can stay true to her name. But that will prove quite difficult while writhing in Ross’ embrace, her body bound by his will, her heart stolen by games too powerful to ignore.
Stealing Serenity
Reese Gabriel
Chapter One
Serenity took a moment too long staring at the hottie through the peephole.
Who could blame her, though, with his tailored tuxedo perfectly fitting his tall, broad-shouldered frame? Those dreamy blue eyes and chiseled features didn’t do him any disservice either. Honestly she could watch him all night.
But she had a fake date to go on.
Fingers trembling a little, she undid the chain and turned the knob. There he was a second later, framing her doorway, ever so much larger and more gorgeous than the peephole image.
“You must be Ross Lassiter.”
His gaze narrowed slightly, something playful about the eyes and a little challenging too. “I assume I passed inspection?”
Serenity blushed slightly. Had she been that obvious? Of course he passed inspection—and she’d love to be going on a real date with him but that was impossible. For one thing they didn’t know each other from Adam.
And as if that wasn’t bad enough Ross Lassiter, she’d heard on good authority, batted for the other team. What was the old saying about all the good ones being taken or gay? Oh well, more time for her to focus on her career, right?
Clearing her throat, she forged ahead. “I’m Serenity Mills but I’m sure Lucretia told you all about me.”
Ross’ strong lips angled sharply now in obvious contradiction. “Actually if you know anything about Lucretia you know she prefers to let people find out for themselves.”
Indeed Serenity did know. Lucretia was one of her dearest and certainly her most outrageous friend. They had met at a gallery function, Lucretia having come up to her out of the blue to start a discussion on the comparative value of observing a fine painting for a quarter-hour versus being screwed by the painter.
“It depends, I would think,” Serenity had said, though in point of fact she was not thinking in the least. “On the appearance and technique of the painter.”
Lucretia had practically squealed in joy, clapping her hands.
“Oh, darling, you simply must join my cabal.” And just like that she’d taken her by the arm and guided her into the naughty night circle of Lucretia DeMoore.
DeMoore, as in more is never enough.
Lucretia was famous for many things, including her ability to weave the human tapestry as she called it.
In this case, Serenity needed a legitimate date for a formal company dinner. Someone who could pass muster with the new foreign owners who were reportedly sticklers for having their executives in stable relationships.
In reality Serenity was in between disasters, having just let go her off-again, on-again boyfriend Tommy, whom Lucretia had nicknamed Tommy Gun for his quick-on-the-trigger attitude. And sex-making skills, if truth be told.
Before that had been Bruce, the mountain climber cum stock analyst who was so in love with himself he would actually insist on sitting with his left profile toward the wall because he preferred to display the right. One time she caught him practicing a kiss in the mirror so he could see how hot he looked.
Lucretia had called him Bruce the Moose. There was no real significance to the name except it had made Serenity laugh. Lucretia liked to make people laugh. Especially her friends.
“That does sound like her,” Serenity agreed now, having no idea whatsoever how to proceed. Should she offer him a drink first? Go over a cover story with him on their fake relationship?
“Indeed,” said Ross Lassiter. “This is for you.”
She blinked at the rose. Had he been holding it all along? Why hadn’t she noticed? Too taken with the rest of him, she supposed.
“It’s…lovely.” Sensing a quick opportunity for retreat, she snatched it from his hand. “I’ll put it in some water.”
The thorn was waiting.
“Ouch,” she exclaimed, following the cry with a mild curse word.
“Here,” he said. “Let me see that.”
Before she could object he had taken her hand to examine the tiny prick in her finger.
“We need to get a Band-Aid on that. Do you have any ointment?”
“In the bathroom?” She made it a question, as if it was someone else’s place and not hers.
He arched a brow. “Do you or don’t you?”
She nodded. He was so amazing to look at, just staring up into his eyes. What was he thinking? How much did he hate having to be here right now given his…proclivities?
Next thing she knew she was leading him down the hall, past her bedroom—thank goodness she kept the door closed—right to the girly-girl bathroom with the tulip shower curtain and swan appliqués.
“Tulips might have been less dangerous than the rose,” he observed.
“The rose was lovely.” Unfortunately it was on the floor at the moment where she’d dropped it in the foyer.
“I really do want to thank you for agreeing to do this,” she took the opportunity to say as he patched up her finger with a small, clear Band-Aid.
“It’s not a problem,” he said genuinely enough.
Not that that didn’t stop her from dragging it out. A bad habit of hers when she was nervous.
“You’re kind to say that, but I know you’d rather be elsewhere.”
His brow arched again in a manner that made her toes curl.
And the way he was touching her, holding her small hand in his much larger one, enveloping but not overwhelming, making her feel safe but not imprisoned. As if he was getting ready to take her on a journey somewhere to a faraway place that would manage to unlock the deepest desires of her body.
It was sex, yes, thrilling, heart-pounding lust, imagining the two of them nude, his hard muscles against her smooth skin, driving her wild, but there was something else too, something forbidden, mysterious and vaguely dark.
Now if only she were a guy he might be interested in her too.
“Where else would I want to be,” he said, his voice deep and rich as coffee, “than here in the company of an exquisitely beautiful woman?”
Serenity felt the blood rush to her head. She was threatening to fall right down at his feet. After losing—what?—three drops of blood?
“We should get going if we don’t want to be late,” she said hastily.
“After you.”
She followed the wave of his hand, trying not to walk too far ahead of him. Her heels clacked down the hall. Was it her imagination or was he…watching her? The way a man watches a woman when he wants her.
Her wrap was in the foyer closet.
“Let me,” he said, coming up from behind to help her put it on.
His hand brushed her bare elbow. He
touched her shoulder. She shivered.
Oh god, had it been that long since she’d been made love to properly by a man or was it more—something very old and deep in the recesses of her memory, her earliest sexual desires?
The desire for a strong man, one who would take control of all things lovemaking related. One who would drive her wild, mercilessly exploiting her sex for mutual pleasure. One not afraid to use tools, techniques. His mind.
So why was this resurfacing now? In the company of an unabashedly gay man?
He didn’t seem very gay, though, did he? In the elevator she decided to press the matter a little. Just a subtle question or two. That would be all it would take.
“So your boyfriend doesn’t mind you going out with me, huh?”
He didn’t take his eyes off the buttons on the wall. Down, down and down.
Okay, so he wasn’t flat out denying he was gay. That was a good sign.
Ross’ car was parked out front. It was royal blue, an expensive English sports car named for a big cat.
Her favorite.
He held the door open for her naturally.
Far too self-conscious, she settled into the scrumptious leather seat, her black sequined gown hugging each and every curve.
The way Ross sat himself down in the driver’s seat was as if he was the heart of the predator the car was named for. He fit it perfectly and as the engine ignited she felt it in her belly, the tips of her nipples and even between her thighs.
Serenity tried not to watch but she caught every detail, the way he gripped the carved, polished gearshift, the way his feet moved in the Italian leather shoes and the way his knuckles looked as he palmed the wheel.
Easing out into traffic, his eyes on the rearview, he asked, “Why did you ask about me having a boyfriend?”
Uh oh. So much for subtlety.
“Well, I mean on account of what Lucretia told me,” said Serenity, more than happy to pass the buck.
“And what exactly did she tell you?”
The way he emphasized the word exactly made her dig extra deep to find the right verbiage.
“She told me your sexuality was alternative.”
Ross Lassiter paused for just a moment before starting to laugh. It wasn’t an idle chuckle either, it was a belly laugh.
“Would you mind letting me in on the joke?”
He shook his head. “I’m just picturing Lucretia telling you that, knowing just how you’d interpret it with your obviously naïve world view.”
Serenity frowned, feeling anything but her name. “I will thank you not to call me naïve. And what are you talking about anyway? What other interpretation is there?”
“Alternative sexuality means any consensual activity which is outside the majority. This can mean gay and lesbian sex, but it can also refer to a number of so-called fetishes.”
“Fetishes?” Images flashed through her mind, none of them endearing. “Are we talking rubber dolls or foot worship?”
“Ever heard of BDSM?”
This got her attention. “You mean bondage?”
“Bondage, domination and sadomasochism to be precise, though not everyone practices all four. The point is to keep it safe, sane and consensual.”
She bit her lip, processing. “So…you’re talking about a special kind of gay sex?”
This time he only smiled but the effect was the same as the earlier laugh. “My dear, I assure you, I am quite thoroughly heterosexual.”
The implications swam in her head. Frame by frame she rewound the events so far. The interactions between them. So he had been watching her in the hall. And when he’d touched her…
But what exactly had he been thinking? What the hell did it mean that he was into BDSM? And boy was she going to have a long talk with Lucretia in the morning.
“I’m not sure I understand,” she said. Understatement of the year.
“I’m a Dom, Serenity. I play with submissive women.”
She glanced quickly at his crotch and then away. Her eyes moved to his hands, one on the wheel, the other downshifting as they picked up the speed needed for the interstate.
“Submissive? Isn’t that just code for women with low self-esteem?”
“Not at all. Subs are the most strong willed and determined of women. They have to be to surrender power to their lovers. They also have to know ahead of time what they want, what their limits are. That takes strength, determination.”
Serenity was still trying to wrap her head around the idea that this impossible hunk wasn’t gay. “So where do you even meet people who are into the same things?”
“Clubs, online services, it’s pretty much the same as for anyone else.”
“Except once you find them, then it’s break-out-the-whips-and-chains time, right?”
“The hardware is only a small part of things.”
Serenity could only imagine the rest.
“I hope you know,” she said quickly, “this has nothing to do with me. If Lucretia led you to believe I was into this sort of thing.”
“She didn’t, but trust me, I can figure these things out for myself.”
“So you can tell I’m not submissive?”
He shifted, changing lanes. Those hands again, so gentle in tending to her wound. What would they feel like in his dominant mode, pinching, squeezing, maybe the flat of his hand impacting on soft female flesh, spanking…?
What kind of man dared to do such things?
Probably all men wanted to be that strong but few would ever risk trying, dominating, really loving their mate that way.
“I can tell the topic agitates you,” he said.
“Which means it’s a turn-off.”
“If you say so.”
She cast him a glance meant to put him off. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re a grown woman.”
“That’s correct. And I’m not into BDSM.” Not into helplessness, enforced nudity, the feel of leather on her body.
Oh god, what if he used a whip? Would it tickle and torment…and sting the way she imagined?
There was a time when she thought of nothing but.
As a teenager she’d watched a cheesy old movie about a Roman general capturing a druid princess. She had felt all these incredible stirrings as he burst into her court and demanded her kingdom. When she refused he had dragged her out into the courtyard and tied her to a wagon. Stripping her to the torso, he had treated her to the scourge of his leather whip. Then he had taken her away as his slave girl.
They never showed much but Serenity had masturbated for hours, filling in all those blanks as the princess fell in love in spite of herself, overwhelmed by the powerful conqueror who yet held in his heart the tenderest spot for her.
Ross Lassiter would have played the part of that general quite well.
“Yes,” he said drily now. “You’ve made that clear.”
“You doubt me?”
Ross’ next move caught her utterly off guard.
“Relax,” he said, putting his hand briefly on her thigh. “Tonight is just for fun. We’re going to fool some stuffed shirts into thinking we’re an item.”
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t dealing with electricity running up and down his spine, the aftereffects of another’s fingers just lightly tracing, barely even there and yet gripping, utterly possessing.
She ought to say something, draw a boundary about the touch thing, but that would only make it look as if she was even more freaked out.
But truthfully she was angry. Lucretia had misled her. Both of them had.
Talk about passing inspection. She should have been tipped off ahead of time.
A thought occurred to her.
“Um, you won’t tell anyone tonight…about your…interests?”
“You mean will I tell everyone how you are my sex slave and how you crawl to me at the snap of my fingers and do my bidding between the sheets—assuming I let you on the bed at all?”
“Yeah, somethin
g like that.” She tried to give it the laugh it deserved but honestly the images kept pouring through her brain, like liquid lust.
What it would be like to have that kind of supreme focus and control upon one’s person? To have a man so intensely controlling and possessing one’s every action?
“So do you have any now? Submissive women, I mean?”
“Not on a regular basis. I have a couple of casual associations.”
“Have you ever been with anyone more seriously?” She was prying and she knew it. Chalk it up to those chatty nerves of hers.
“We’re going to the Westover South, right?” He managed a neat and quite appropriate change of topics.
“Yes. It’s in the second tower.”
“We need a back story,” he said.
“I agree.”
“How about this? We met a year ago at a friend’s dinner party. We started getting serious six months ago, now we’re talking about moving in together.”
Serenity could just imagine his apartment, wall-to-wall leather, racks and chains hanging from the ceiling.
“Yes. And we need to know some facts about each other. I’m from Ohio. I have one older sister. I was Miss Dairy Princess senior year of high school and I majored in business at Ohio State.”
“You must have made an adorable princess,” he mused. “You know, really I can’t imagine why you can’t get a real date tonight. The vanillas ought to be swarming around you.”
“Vanillas?”
“It’s what we call people who aren’t into BDSM. Vanilla as in plain.”
“I never thought of it that way. To me anyone different is a freak.”
“Freaks have their place like anyone else.”
“But have you always known that about yourself? The freak part I mean?”
He grinned, emphasizing his killer dimples. “You mean did I run around the playground as a little boy trying to tie up all the little girls with their jump ropes?”
Serenity laughed in spite of herself. “I can just picture that. Talk about adorable.”
“Actually I did know from the moment I could think any sexual thoughts. No one had to tell me, I just knew that I had to have power over my lovers, consensual, mind you. It’s always been about seduction, the kind that can only come when the female has entrusted you with everything, her honor, her rights and even her very ability to climax. Even then there is the ultimate inviolable limit of the safe word.”
Stealing Serenity Page 1