His to Love (Titans Quarter Book 2)

by Sierra Cartwright

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yours.” She met his gaze, and a sheen of tears clung to her eyelashes.

  The purity of her emotion brought him to his knees.

  “Now and forever.” She repeated his words. “Always. I love you.”

  Thank you for reading His to Love! I appreciate you very much.

  Be the very first to know all the news by subscribing to my very special VIP Newsletter! Exclusive excerpts and insider information.

  For tons of fun and to join with other awesome people like you, join my reader group, Sierra’s SuperStars.

  Read more about Hannah and Mason’s story and how he finally won her heart. She promised him a weekend. But the alpha billionaire is determined to keep her forever. One-click His To Claim now!

  You can learn more about the fascinating and powerful world of the Titans today. He needs a marriage of convenience. And the powerful billionaire decides he wants Hope, the woman hired to find him a bride. Order Billionaire’s Matchmaker today!

  Turn the page for an excerpt from Billionaire’s Matchmaker…

  Billionaire’s Matchmaker Excerpt

  Hope Malloy, his matchmaker, projected competence, but her heels and fanciful handbag gave her a feminine air. A sane man would think of her as a vendor or business associate, so he could slot her into the off-limits part of his conscience. She wasn’t a potential date or wife. Or submissive.

  He wanted her.

  She isn’t mine.

  Fuck his conscience.

  Before this ridiculous idea about finding him a woman to marry went any further, she needed to know the truth about him, the side he locked away and kept hidden unless he was at one of his favorite BDSM clubs, the side that Celeste should have informed his matchmaker about.

  Bare inches separated him from Hope, and he halved that distance by leaning toward her. “Is there a place on your fourteen-page questionnaire to discuss sexual proclivities?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.” Her knuckles whitened on her purse strap.

  “Let me clarify.” Rafe spoke softly into the thick air between them. “Kinks. Those nasty, scandalous things that people do in the privacy of their own homes. Things they don’t talk about in public. Salacious acts that make them drop to their knees in church as they beg forgiveness. Would you consider that compatibility or chemistry?”

  Tension tightened her shoulders. “Is there something…” Her tone suggested she was trying for professionalism, but her voice cracked on a sharp inhalation.

  After a few more shallow breaths, she ventured, “What do I need to know?”

  “I’m into BDSM.”

  Her beautiful, pouty mouth parted a little.

  An image scorched him—that of him slipping a spider gag between her lips, spreading her mouth and keeping it that way. He’d force her to communicate with her expression and her body, like she was now. “Your eyes are wide, Ms. Malloy. Are you shocked? Interested?” Her soul was reflected in the startling depths. “Curious, perhaps?”

  It took her less than three seconds to close her mouth and regroup. “No. I’m wondering how I should phrase this for your candidates.”

  She’d lied. Instead of meeting his gaze, she stared at the potted plant near the window.

  Rather than unleashing the beast that suddenly wanted to dominate her, he kept his tone even. “I’m sure you’ve had clients who like that sort of thing?”

  Finally, after a breath, she looked at him. “I’ll make some discreet inquiries of the candidates. What is it you’re looking for?”

  He ached to capture her chin and force her to look at him. “How much do you know about BDSM?”

  She pulled back her shoulders, as if on more stable ground. “I’ve heard of it.”

  “No personal experience?”

  “That’s not relevant.”

  Damn her dishonest answer. Some? None? Would he be her first? Could he take her, mold her into what he wanted?

  What the fuck was wrong with him? He’d already decided she was off-limits. “There are as many ways to practice BDSM as there are people in the lifestyle. No relationship is the same.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Mesmerized, he watched the wild flutter of her pulse in her throat. It was like oxygen to a dying man. He wanted more. “Some people prefer to confine their practices to the bedroom—at night, for example. Others, on occasion, indulge at a club or play party. A number of people practice it in varying degrees on a twenty-four-hour basis.”

  “Where do your…proclivities lie?”

  Until now, he hadn’t considered he might want a submissive wife. Over the years, he’d found it easier to go to the club. He was a Dom who would give a sub what she wanted.

  But he’d never allowed himself to think of having a wife that he could call with a list of sensuous instruction. Now, however, with Hope standing there, he couldn’t banish the thought. And since his mother had already squandered a hundred grand on the woman’s matchmaking services, he figured he should be specific in his requests. More, he wanted Hope to know what she was getting into, even if she didn’t yet realize he’d chosen her. “I want my wife to be submissive twenty-four hours a day.”

  “Can you clarify what you mean?” She clenched the handle of her kitty bag, seeming to pretend this was an ordinary conversation with a normal man.

  Rafe captured Hope’s shoulders and pulled her into his office so he could close the door. He held on to her for a whole lot longer than was necessary but not as long as he wanted to. How would she react if he eased his first finger up the delicate column of her throat?

  Would she surrender? Fight the inevitable?

  Forcing himself to resist the driving impulse, he dropped his hands and curled them into fists at his sides.

  “Proclivities,” she prompted.

  The word echoed in his head. “She’ll wear a collar—my collar…” And because he could no longer resist, he traced an index finger across the hollow of her throat. Her pulse fluttered, and her breaths momentarily ceased. “My woman will know that she belongs to me and she will behave as such.”

  Hope’s gaze remained locked on his. When she spoke, her voice wobbled. “And this…collar. She’ll have to wear it all the time?”

  “That’s what twenty-four seven means.” A devilish grin tugged at his lips. He kept his fingertip pressed to her warm skin. “It will be subtle, however. Nothing gaudy. Unless people knew, I doubt they’d think she was wearing anything other than a striking piece of jewelry. But her play collar, the one she wears in private with me or at a lifestyle event, may be different.”

  “Like at a BDSM club or something?” She nodded, as if she were on ground she understood.

  Not that he’d let her stay there long. “I enjoy showing off my sub. There’s a certain restaurant in New Orleans, Vieille Rivière, that she will go to. And a club in the city, also. She will also be expected to join me when I visit people in similar social circles.” Including other Titans. But there was a limit to how much he should tell her. “There are certain things I would want her to go along with. Bondage. Sensory deprivation.”

  “You mean like blindfolds and handcuffs?” There was no hesitation in her words, so he ascertained she’d made sense of what he’d said and decided that fell under the category of typical bedroom shenanigans.

  “Among others, yes. I use blindfolds on occasion. I like gags so that my woman must beg with her eyes. Her tears are like dripping nectar from the gods.”

  Wide-eyed, uncertain, she sucked in a deep, disbelieving breath.

  “I will want to her to wait for me at the end of a long day, on her knees, head tipped back, her beautiful mouth open for me.” He pictured her naked in front of the door, hungry for his touch.

  She retreated a step. “Mr. Sterling, I—”

  “My wife will focus on me and my pleasure.”

  “That sounds rather old-fashioned.”

  “Does it? What you’re not aware of is what I’m willing to do in return
.”

  “In return?”

  “I wouldn’t expect a woman to give me everything she has to offer without me giving equal parts of myself. Her wants and desires will be my highest priority. I will give her the heavens if she wants them, the stars, the moon.” He paused. “Then I’ll take her to the depths of hell as she uncovers what sets her depraved soul free.”

  She shuddered.

  “Can you find me all that in a candidate, Ms. Malloy?”

  “You’re rather particular.”

  “Indeed. I require a woman of impeccable breeding who presents her ass for my punishment when she displeases me.”

  The air conditioner kicked on. The whispering cool air did nothing to dissipate the heat between them.

  He slid his hand around to the back of her neck, then feathered his fingers into her hair. “I want to kiss you, Ms. Malloy.”

  “Uhm…”

  “Ask me to.”

  She scowled.

  “I won’t have you pretending that you’re not curious. When you’re at home this evening, by yourself with a glass of wine, horny and considering masturbating—”

  “That’s not me.” She shook her head so fast it was obviously a desperate lie.

  “No? Ms. Malloy, the room is swimming with your pheromones. Deny it.” She sagged a little against his hand, and he tightened his grip on her hair, as much to offer support as to imprison her. Then he continued as if she hadn’t interrupted. “You’ll remember this moment, fantasize about being mine.”

  “No…”

  “Invite me to kiss you or tell me to release you. The power is yours. Yield to temptation or leave this room wondering if it’s as good as you imagine it will be.”

  “Mr. Sterling, this can’t be happening.”

  Despite her protest, she didn’t try to escape. “I agree. This is the first time I’ve had three women”—four if he counted Celeste—“attempt to force me down the aisle.” He paused. “And it’s the first time I’ve had this kind of sexual longing for an adversary. Ask me to kiss you,” he repeated instead of arguing. “Be sure to say please.”

  “Ah…”

  He loosened his grip, and she leaned toward him, keeping herself hostage. Rafe didn’t smile with triumph.

  “Kiss me.”

  “There’s nothing I’d enjoy more.” That wasn’t the entire truth. There were a hundred things he’d like to do to her, but he made no move

  Her internal standoff lasted longer than he thought it would. Excellent. She had a stubborn streak.

  Hope glanced away and sighed. Then she looked at him with clear, confident eyes. “Please kiss me.”

  He could drown in her and be happy about it. He captured her chin to hold her steady. On her lips, he tasted the sweetness of her capitulation. “Open your mouth, sweet Hope.”

  She did, and he entered her mouth, slower than he would ordinarily, softer than he would if she were his submissive.

  Hope responded with hesitation, and he continued, driving deeper, seeking more. Within seconds, she yielded.

  She moaned and raised onto her tiptoes to lean into him. A few seconds beyond that, she wrapped her arms around him. Hope, his adversary, had now become his willing captive.

  He released her chin and moved his hand to the middle of her back, then lower to the base of her spine.

  Rafe drank in the scent of her femininity. His cock surged, not from ordinary arousal, but from soul-deep recognition. Her eagerness sought the Dom in him. It took all his restraint not to press his palm against her buttocks.

  Earlier he’d said she’d be thinking of him as she masturbated. The truth was, he wasn’t sure how he’d banish this memory of her—strength and suppleness in one heady package.

  He plundered her mouth.

  She offered more until she was panting and desperate, gripping him hard.

  Instead of giving in to the driving need to rip off her clothes and fuck her, he distracted himself by tugging on her hair harder. As he’d requested, her eyes were open. So goddamn trusting. Did she have any idea how close he was to shredding the veneer of civilization that hung between them to claim her, mark her as his?

  He ended the kiss while he still could. Her mouth was swollen, and he couldn’t stop staring at her lips.

  Hope took tiny breaths that didn’t seem to steady her. She held on to him while she lowered her heels to the floor. Then, over a few heartbeats, she dropped her hands.

  “Thank you, Rafe,” he prompted.

  “Are you serious? I’m supposed to thank you?” She continued to look at him and undoubtedly saw his resolve.

  Would she give him what he demanded? “Unless you want me to spank—”

  “Spank?” Her chin was at a full tilt.

  “Spank.” He repeated with emphasis. “Unless you want me to spank your pretty little ass so hard that you can’t sit down after you leave here.”

  “That kind of behavior is unacceptable.”

  “Under normal circumstances,” he agreed without hesitation. “Unless you ask me for it.” Part of him hoped she’d take him up on it. It would be a pleasure to prove she liked the feel of his hand on her bare skin. “I’ll go first.” He softened his tone, letting her glimpse his inner thoughts, a rare confession of his soul. “I enjoyed kissing you. Thank you.”

  “I…” She smoothed the skirt that he wanted to rip off her body.

  “Look at me.”

  She followed his command. Then, with a soft and decidedly insubmissive tone, she said, “Thank you.”

  “Ms. Malloy, as I said, it was my pleasure.”

  Silence hung between them. Her inexperience thrilled him, and he wanted to give her another hundred firsts. Instead, he let her go. The real world—with its complex demands—was waiting. And if he wanted her at his feet, he had a lot of work to do.

  “I’m not certain how much of what you said, and what we just did, is to get me to admit defeat, to quit…” She stiffened her spine.

  “Maybe it started that way.” His father’s behavior had pissed Rafe off, and so had his mother’s ambush, even Hope herself. He’d wanted to shake her as badly as he’d been shaken. As he’d spoken to her, his desires had churned to the surface. Until now—until her—he had been willing to confine his kink to a club. “It didn’t end that way. That I promise you.”

  “I will ask the candidates about their openness to your suggestions.”

  Fuck. She wanted to retreat behind a facade of business, as if their kiss hadn’t changed something. “Requirements. Not suggestions. Requirements. Be clear about that. If I’m to be saddled with a woman that I don’t want until death do us part, there will be none of the hysteria that my family members seem to thrive on. My wife will know her place and her role, and she will meet my expectations. And to be clear, she will ask for my kiss. Like you did.” He opened the door.

  Jeanine was walking toward his office with a cup of coffee, and he waved her off.

  Then, voice so soft that only Hope could hear, he finished. “You have a fourteen-page interview form. I will have something similar for the women you bring to me. It will cover things such as anal play, being shared with others, edging, exhibitionism. Shall I send it to you first?”

  “Please do. It will save some time in your selection process.” She started past him, and he snagged her elbow.

  “And Ms. Malloy? She’ll fucking address me as Sir.” He was unaccountably furious at her rejection. At himself. “And if you come here ever again, so will you.”

  Her hand trembled where she grasped her purse strap. She flicked a glance at his hand before yanking her elbow free and continuing.

  To continue your Titans adventure, be sure to read Billionaire’s Matchmaker.

  Come To Me Excerpt

  Wolf Stone, no matter how drop-dead gorgeous he was, was out of his freaking mind. And an asshole to boot. “You left Nate out there?” Kayla Fagan demanded. “Have you seen the weather?”

  “He’s not made of sugar.”

&nbs
p; “Meaning he won’t melt?”

  “Exactly.”

  “If this is how you treat your fellow operatives, what do you do to your enemies?”

  He shrugged. “None of them left alive to tell.” He smiled, and it did nothing to soften his features. The quick curve was more wicked than anything, making his eyes darken, reminding her of those few moments of twilight before the sky devoured the sun.

  He strode from the kitchen, and she followed. “Mr. Stone—”

  “Wolf, or just Stone.” He didn’t slow down. “And I’m not worried about how I’ll sleep tonight.” He crouched in front of the hearth, tossing kindling into the empty fireplace grate.

  When she first heard he was holing up in a log house on a ranch, she’d pictured a remote, barely inhabitable two-room cabin.

  She couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Wolf Stone enjoyed luxury, and his home was the intersection of comfort and high-tech. This room, more than any other, gave a nod to his heritage. A rug, painstakingly woven by his grandmother, hung from one of the walls. Another rug, not crafted by his family, dominated the area near the fireplace.

  In other rooms, he flicked a switch to ignite the gas fireplaces, but in this one, he obviously preferred to build it himself.

  Even though she was stunned by his bad behavior, she couldn’t help her fascination as she watched him. His shoulders were impossibly broad. Long black hair, as wild as he was, was cinched back with a thin strip of leather. And Lord, he had the hottest ass she’d ever seen, and a cock with plenty of potential.

  Not that she’d actually seen it full-length.

  But at night, when he thought she was asleep, he walked around the house in the buff.

  Last night, his dick had been partially erect, and the darkened view had inspired her dreams and nearly made her forget her job.

  Lucky for her, at least part of the time, she was required to have her hands on him. She just hadn’t quite figured out how to professionally get him to take off all his clothes to touch his naked body.