by Lea Griffith
Be our Valentine this month and every month—read Loveswept.
~Happy Romance!
Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher
Read on for an excerpt from
Never Enough
by Lea Griffith
Available from Loveswept
Chapter 1
Need prowled under Dante’s skin like a ravenous beast intent on devouring him to the bone, leaving no trace he’d ever been there. Always there, unrelenting and most definitely not willing to leave him to the peace of the amber-tinted scotch in the tumbler he held. He wanted to toss the crystal snifter across the room. Fling it so hard it shattered into a million pieces, much like his soul was doing at the sound of another man submitting Savannah Cavanaugh.
Music thumped from the speakers overhead and people milled to and fro as bodies encased in leather, latex, and lace delighted in the scene occurring on the stage in the center of the room. Lips curled into sex-laden, come-hither smiles, breaths pulled in harsher with each strike of the flogger, and Dante’s rage flamed higher.
He tapped the table and within seconds another scotch found its place before him. The low beat of the music could not hope to disguise Savannah’s broken cries of need, nor could it possibly hide the low laughter of the Dom serving her. The flogger snapped and Dante flinched.
Her body moved sinuously under the tails of the sex toy, the alabaster of her skin turning a deeper red with each strike. Dante’s insides writhed right along with her.
It should be him. She should have called him.
Instead, she continued to deny what he’d shown her weeks ago. She was his. She’d screamed his name as he’d whispered hers, the commitment sealed as the release they’d achieved through play had splintered into a blinding orgasm. Words hadn’t been needed. His dominance and her submission had been enough to cement the bond.
She’d clutched him close, her pussy holding him tight as her fingers dug into the skin of his back, preventing him from leaving her. She’d been silk under the razor edge of his need, shredding so beautifully he’d known she was what he’d been searching for.
Submissive. His.
As if she’d been made for him Savannah had given herself completely, keeping nothing for herself as he gave her every ounce of his dominance. She’d loved every moment of it.
And here she was, giving what was Dante’s to another man.
And here he sat watching. Because if there was one thing Dante Shaw would never do it was beg. He might want her like hell on fire, but he’d burn in those fires all by himself before he’d beg a woman to accept what he wanted to give her.
She was a woman seeking but fully capable of denying what her body told her was true. She’d found her home in Dante’s dominance. Stubborn didn’t even begin to define Savannah Cavanaugh. It was a trait he both accepted and abhorred. Her unwillingness to contact him when her need became too much showed a side of her he didn’t care for, yet at the same time it showed her greatest weakness—her own needs.
He’d thrown her off-kilter, had her running from him the moment he’d spanked her ass with his hand. She’d been playing with Tobias Edwards that night and the other Dom had left her to chase after the woman who truly held his heart. Tobias had left her in the middle of a scene and while Dante had understood, Savannah had been suffering.
Not because she needed the sexual release, though that was important. Rather she had needed to find subspace—that ethereal plane where everything ceased to exist except for Savannah. Her mind whirled and she needed the quiet to survive. The truth was simple. She needed the release of BDSM play to find that place where she could be nothing more than what she felt. The woman’s brain never stopped working. She had to have the peace of subspace to survive.
From the second Dante had seen her weeks ago, everything had tightened inside him. She was a gorgeous woman, all silky curves and delightful angles. Her hair was shorter, just brushing the top of her shoulders, its honey-brown strands glowing under the lights. Her skin was smooth and looked as if it tasted of sweet milk, the cream just pleading to be marked red. She was short, barely reaching his shoulders, and her bones were fragile. She’d awakened every single protective instinct he possessed and he’d not thought that possible.
Play was a release for Dante—a simple need to be vanquished with a willing woman, though in his heart he’d known for some time he was unhappy with submitting just any woman who wanted to play. The luster was gone, and his desires were no longer being met by random subs in darkened corners of BDSM clubs.
He’d requested to join Jeremiah Copeland’s club, The Underground, for one reason: Savannah Cavanaugh. He preferred playing in private. Clubs were for those who delighted in sharing their sexual experiences.
Dante had never been good at sharing. He’d become even worse at it since he’d seen her.
His gaze tracked to the stage, riveting on the hair that slid down to hide her face. He needed to see her blue eyes, had to see where her mind was, and as if he’d spoken his wish aloud, her face lifted and she was staring at him.
Her gaze was blank, the sheen in her eyes tears of frustration. Dante’s hand tightened on his glass and his line of sight was obscured by someone stepping in front of his table. The rage flew high again and even though it was as close to insanity as he wanted to come, he recognized the beast taunting him was jealousy.
No one should prevent him from staring at her. No one should mark her perfect flesh except for him. And for goddamn sure no other Dom should have her under his control.
She was Dante’s.
He stood, unable to deny the disparate needs rushing through him. Protect her. Dominate her. Punish her for daring to give another what was his alone. Care for her after he’d done all the things he had to do to ensure her submission.
He wanted all of her—every single broken, confused, stubborn, precious and beautiful piece.
He pushed through the crowd and came to the stage. Her head lifted higher when she spotted him again and the distance between them was too great. He could smell her need, feel her desire, and it became his sole purpose to ease her.
He stepped up on the stage, glanced at the Dom, and gave a short nod of his head. The man gave over easily, obviously nowhere near strong enough to submit the woman before them. He had become frustrated minutes ago, his strikes losing fluidity, his low laughter growing strained.
He was playing at being a Dominant. Dante didn’t play at anything.
The other man exited the stage as Dante slowly removed his suit coat and began rolling up his sleeves. Savannah had requested to be gagged, something Dante couldn’t stand. He wanted to hear her screams, each and every one of them.
Once he’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows he strode to her, going on his haunches so he was eye level with her. She refused to meet his gaze, and so it began.
He grabbed a fistful of her hair and abruptly lifted her head. Her sky-blue eyes widened and her nostrils flared. Dante went hard just that quickly. She was a fire in his blood. He was beginning to despair he’d ever be able to fight it.
“You dared to give another what’s mine?” he whispered so softly he knew she was the only one to hear.
She tried to form words, but all he heard were low grunts of desperation. He ignored that desperation and began to slowly unhook the ball-gag.
“You dared to try and find peace with another man after what we shared?”
He didn’t expect an answer and she didn’t try to offer one. She did work her mouth slowly, lips gone numb no doubt from being constrained by the gag.
Dante threw the gag forcefully from the stage, uncaring if it hit anyone on its journey. With his free hand, he grabbed her chin and squeezed until her mouth opened. Then he ran his thumb over her lips, watching as the pale curves of her mouth flushed once again.
“You knew when you left my house three weeks ago we weren’t finished. You knew only I could give your body and your mind what it needed. Yet I fin
d you here tonight, with a pale imitation of me, looking for the ease that is mine to give you.”
He kept his voice low, afraid if he allowed his anger to seep through he’d lose all control. Savannah needed his control. Her body was sweating with the desire to submit. Her eyes flinched and lowered. Dante squeezed her chin again and her eyes immediately rose to his.
It was eerie how connected they were. He’d submitted her first here at the club and then he’d taken her to his home—a place he’d never taken another. He’d been unable to allow anyone else to see her submission. He’d earned it and it was all his.
“You came here when my home was open to you.”
She tried to shake her head but couldn’t because of his hold on her hair.
“I told you to call me,” he reminded her pleasantly. “Only me.”
“You are nobody to me, Shaw,” she bit out finally.
There she was. His temptress. She’d push him tonight, but by God she wouldn’t do it here in this club for any and everyone to see.
He released her hair and her head drooped. She was on her knees, bent at the waist, naked from the waist up, but fortunately for her wearing boy shorts panties that hid her pussy from the onlookers. He would have been really pissed if she’d been completely nude. Every eye in here may have seen her before, but her pussy was his now.
Savannah was his and Dante didn’t share.
“I think I’m more than nobody to you. You couldn’t get enough of me last time, Savannah. Let’s not beat around the bush, shall we?” He stood and stared down at her.
Long moments passed before she glanced up again. It was so telling how she hadn’t moved from her position, recognizing his control over her. Her submission was truly a gift wasted on the man she’d been affording it.
The anger tried to push forth, flaring out until he almost couldn’t call it back. She noticed—those blue eyes that catalogued everything saw his lips tighten and the red flush of his rage rise up his cheeks. He couldn’t hide it; that’s how bad it was. Because of her.
“You need me, Detective,” he murmured with a slow smile.
“I do not.” It was an automatic response.
Dante allowed his smile to widen, relishing the doubt creeping into her gaze. It was a shadow over the azure of her orbs and it was a fear he’d allow for now.
“I could spank you here, but we both know that’s not what you want.” He began to walk around her in slow, measured steps designed to soothe her. Her body was prickled with goose bumps and her breathing was shallow. Savannah was beginning to panic.
“I want to finish my scene with the other Dom,” she said softly.
Dante stopped for moment and cocked his head. “What’s his name?”
She opened her mouth but nothing came out, confusion a cloud over her face. She either had no idea what the man’s was or she’d forgotten. That alone soothed his ire.
“You will stand now, sub,” Dante said in a cold, hard voice.
No more fucking around. He was taking her home to finish this.
She stood immediately, wobbling only a bit before she stood before him proudly. Her gorgeous, round breasts bounced with every move she made. He reached for one, tweaking a nipple, then pinching it so hard she gasped and made to move away.
“Do not,” he bit out. “Do not try my patience here.”
She stilled.
As a reward for her obedience Dante leaned down and took the offended nipple in his mouth, laving it gently before he released it. He pondered her for a few seconds. “You taste of unslaked lust. We should go fix that.”
He turned away from her, grabbed his coat, and began walking. He didn’t turn to see if she followed; he felt her behind him. She was angry, but so was Dante. He’d ease her anger and soothe her body and in doing so, grant himself the same.
He walked to the door, knowing his driver had the SUV at the front entrance. Dante had told him to wait and then informed the front doorman he wouldn’t be long. He’d been in the club for thirty minutes tops before he’d made his move.
He was surprised he’d been able to wait that long.
Before he stepped out into the sultry Atlanta heat, he turned to Savannah, wrapped his coat around her from the front of her naked frame, and then led her out the door into the Cadillac SUV. He wanted nothing touching the marks left on her by another man. He was going to care for her until those marks were gone and he could put his own there.
She settled into the seat as he slid in beside her.
It would take them twenty minutes to get to his house in Buckhead. He was going to make every one of them count.
—
Savannah’s heart was racing so fast she wondered if the organ would explode from her chest. How much more could she take? How much more did she want to take?
“Get on your knees between my legs,” Dante ordered.
A part of her froze. The other, bigger part, the part of her he’d claimed irrevocably three weeks ago, acceded to his demand. She went to her knees between his long legs without a whimper.
“I watched you for almost thirty minutes. I watched another man strut around your body, doing his best to submit you, and I watched your face the entire time.”
He took a deep breath and Savannah knew what was coming. Punishment.
“I didn’t like it.” His voice was horrible, but the depth of it called to everything wild in Savannah. Her mind raced with scenarios—that’s what he did to her. He kept her guessing, and even though she’d had only one night, it had been sufficient to show her everything she’d always wanted and never had.
Until Dante Shaw.
The fact that he was the leader of the largest organized crime organization on the southeastern coast meant nothing when she was braced before him. He held her so perfectly within his dominance that it ceased to matter who he was and why she should stay far, far away from him.
He was man to her woman and the only one who had ever quieted her mind completely. A single night and yeah, she’d known she should return to him, but all of her doubts had congealed into fear and instead of doing what her heart and body wanted, she’d gone with her mind.
A big mistake. Huge, if the edge riding his tone was any indication.
“Look at me,” he demanded as he reached for a jar she hadn’t noticed on the seat between them. Tiger Balm. He was going to provide her aftercare.
She lifted her gaze and met the black of his eyes, trying to brace for the impact but knowing damn good and well that would never happen. Dante Shaw had taken her breath from the moment she’d seen him two years ago pinned to her crime board.
Then she’d met him in real life and he’d taken her to a place she’d never been—subspace. He’d been everything she’d ever searched for, with the exception of what he did for a living.
If anyone in the Atlanta Police Department ever found out she’d taken the leader of the Dixie Mafia as a lover, she’d be out of a job so fast her head would spin.
Still, that wasn’t enough to prevent her from drowning in the ebony of his eyes and losing her mind at the dominance of his tone.
“I have to know,” he began in a very civil tone as he opened the jar of balm and scooped some out with his fingers. “What would you have done if you’d walked into The Underground and found me flogging another sub?”
Savannah cocked her head, a delightful fear trilling through her entire body. Her nipples tightened under the warmth of his suit coat and her pussy went liquid. She didn’t answer him because she couldn’t. Not and keep her sanity.
“Answer me,” he ordered. Civility was all gone now.
He reached around her and began applying the cream to her skin. It was instantly soothing, though the marks left by the other man were inconsequential to Savannah.
“Nothing,” she answered softly. “You aren’t my Dom.”
“I’ve been on, around, and inside you, Savannah. I took you to a place you’ve never been. Don’t play games with me, little sub.”
/> She lifted her hand and pushed her heavy hair from her face. “I don’t know what you want.”
Delightful fear turned quickly to anxiety. He couldn’t hold that much of her. Not after a single night of D/s play. It wasn’t logical. Even as her mind flung the thought out, her heart reined it in, reminding her that logic held no sway here. If it did, she’d never have gotten in this SUV with him.
“You know what I want,” he told her softly. He lifted his hands from her skin and closed the jar, wiping his fingers on a handkerchief.
He reached for her hands then, placing them on his hard thighs before he sat back and just stared at her. Silence held sway and she grew uncomfortable. She wasn’t good at waiting. It was always a rush for her and Dante seemed to only ever want to go slow.
Savannah didn’t have time to savor. Not when she knew what waited at the end for her with this man.
Peace.
“I barely know you, Shaw, and what I do know isn’t exactly conducive to us being in any kind of committed relationship,” she responded acerbically.
“You know what you need to know—I’ll take you where you need to go. Now give me what I want,” he said harshly.
She heard it in his voice, the dominance and greed. It made her giddy to think that out of everyone in that club he had focused on her. Savannah.
How she’d longed for that. But that didn’t mean she’d give him everything.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Shaw,” she said, allowing her frustration to leak through.
He sighed. “My name is Dante. Or you can call me Sir.” He rubbed his thumb over her lips again. The man was fascinated with her mouth. “Now give me what I want.”
She breathed out heavily. “I would have been angry. Pissed as hell. Your dominance is mine.”
He smiled and took her breath. Dante Shaw was gorgeous when the harsh angles of his face softened with the curving of his lips. His Italian heritage shone through in the dark complexion and jet-black hair. He was tall, with broad shoulders and lean hips. His frame wasn’t packed with heavy muscle; rather he was leaner, with ropey, defined mass. She likened him to a feral panther. His muscles bunched under his silky skin just right, flexing with every move he made and making her mouth water. He was strength in a long, lean bad-boy package.