Deep Down the Rabbit Hole: Kings of the Tower book two

by May Sage

  "Sure, you can do the two or four o'clock."

  She glanced at the clock. "I'll do four."

  "Any plans tonight?" Mav asked.

  "Yep." He seemed a little disappointed, until she smiled, and added, "Going out with you. Obviously."

  Maverick chuckled, before planting a fleeting kiss on top of her forehead.

  "We'll go to dinner, then our usual place - in case you were wondering about the dress code. I’ll pick you up at seven."

  He'd barely left the apartment when Jade and Jasmine started their version of the Spanish Inquisition.

  This was it. The moment that would define whether this was a long overdue rebound, or the start of a relationship.

  Maverick hadn't shared his deepest, darkest secret at dinner. Nor had she. They'd talked about family, work, and travel. Books and dreams.

  "Have you tried to submit to a publisher?"

  "Yeah, no," she'd snorted. "I write because I love it. It's the truest form of escapism. I'm not running to Tolkien's or Rowling's world - I have my own brand of craziness. Doesn't mean I need validation or whatever."

  "Sure, but you could actually do this for a living."

  "Do you know how many authors write full time? And the last thing I need is a second job. I wouldn't want to take the fun away from something I love to do."

  He hadn't protested, changing the subject to something lighter. This was a big part of her, whatever she said to attempt to make it sound like nothing more than a hobby. And he wasn't entitled to butt his head in it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  At the end, it depended on this.

  He waited in the hallway, hands stuffed in his pockets, leaning over the reception desk, when Lexi came back. His jaw hit the floor.

  * * *

  It wasn't Lexi's first time in the Tower, but it was her first time appearing next to him, and it was her first time walking in in nothing but the most decadent pieces of lingerie.

  He'd told her to remove her dress and leave it with her coat when they'd arrived.

  Maverick didn't know what he'd expected, but not this. His dick, generally hard around her anyway, pushed against his zipper, needing out.

  “Fuck.”

  She looked like a fucking goddess, wrapped in light blue, shimmery satin that looked so fucking perfect against her marble skin: a longline bra that made her tits look fuckable, suspenders, and little garters around each of her thighs. If he'd known she'd worn that under her below-the-knee black cocktail dress, they wouldn't have made it outside of her apartment. Her blonde hair, tied in a knot most of the evening, now fell in waves to one side of her face.

  "Alexia? I'm going to take you to the dance floor upstairs like this. I may remove any part of your underwear. I may fuck you right there." She bit her lip. "Safe word."

  This was it. The end of the road; they had to go left or right, in a direction that would define everything.

  "Green."

  Shit. That was it, then.

  "In that case, after you."

  His hand rested on the small of her back, softly. Her skin was so fucking warm and soft.

  The elevator attendant asked for their destination and keyed in his code to get them there. Meanwhile, Mav lowered his hand, teasing the hem of her thong, then slipping underneath it, cupping her right ass cheek.

  She took a sharp breath as his hand moved to tease her pussy lips, finding them slick.

  The elevator doors opened on the ninth floor. The only lighting was low on the floor, ensuring they knew where to step but not quite enough to clearly see past their noses, and from the bar on the far wall. This was mid-ground between the casual bar downstairs and the orgies they held in the penthouse. A good start to see what his woman liked.

  His.

  "Welcome to the mad house, Alexia."

  He lifted his hand and the tantalizing beat of the music immediately stopped. The main lights were turned on. The dozens of guests present, all fucking, sucking, dancing, or doing all three at once, turned around, wondering what was happening.

  "Why have they all stopped?"

  "Because I'm the master here and I demanded it."

  She froze and turned to him, eyes wide open.

  Here goes nothing.

  "Go on the bar, Lexi. Then, dance for me."

  But not only for him. For the rest of the room. All eyes would be completely fixed on her.

  "I don't want you to have any piece of clothing left on your skin once you're done. Safe word."

  He could be wrong. There was a chance that he'd messed up when interpreting the clues. She could tell him to fuck off. She could think he was stepping on her boundaries. Call red or yellow.

  "Green."

  He trailed her with his eyes as she walked away, her hips swaying with each step. Fuck, that ass was so perfect. And his. No one was questioning it. The crowd parted, everyone anxious to make way for the King's property. The King's sub. No way were they risking pissing him off. Unless he gave the word, no one would dare lay a finger on her.

  He'd never say the word. Let them watch. Let them salivate. But now, tomorrow, in a year, in a decade, she'd be his. She'd sealed her fate.

  Alexia Taunton was to be Mrs. Maverick King.

  Epilogue

  Ten months later.

  * * *

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did. I realize this is actually a crime. Feel free to have me flogged, or whatever they do to spies and traitors in your world.”

  “You fucking didn’t.”

  “I did,” Maverick repeated. “I contacted an agent for you - nine months ago, actually. And he got you a deal. A good one. A seven- figure advance. They’re making what you have a trilogy - but they want more. Five books.”

  She jumped to her boyfriend, her dom, her perfect partner, and practically mauled his face, kissing every each of it.

  Once the elation stopped, she actually couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it coming. It was a typical Maverick move. He saw something she wanted, before she admitted it to herself, and he served it to her on a silver platter. Then, he flogged her, because reasons.

  Good reasons.

  * * *

  “You’re fucking kidding. Congratulations. That’s fucking amazing. Wait until I tell Cassie. Man, I totally need to read your stuff.” Tori exclaimed.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Try and stop me. And sure, you can cut down your hours. I’ll talk to HR.”

  Wow, that was incredibly easy. Too easy, one might say.

  "I can't believe you said yes. I feel so very disposable now."

  Tori rolled her eyes. "Glance outside those doors." Lexi did as she was bid, and watched. "Look at them all. All too busy gossiping about me and scheming my demise. They now know I own part of the company, and no doubt that's the only reason why they aren’t being complete asses to my face anymore. Whereas you're loyal. You’ve got my back. So, if you need to take a breather? Fine. Do it. And if you need a few days to hide out on a private island and bathe in wine? Take it, too. I don't care. Just come back to me. And when you resign because this book deal is making you a million dollars, I’ll support you, too. We’re friends, Lexi. I don’t have many of those, so that will always come first.”

  Lexi had tears in her eyes. "You're the bestest thing ever. Better than coffee. Don’t worry, though – I don’t have an island to hide out on too often."

  "Well, your man's brother does have a private island, if the rumors are to be believed."

  “Yes, crazy as it is, he’s invited me to hang out there on the weekend. Can you believe it? Me, on a private island.”

  “Lucky bitch. Although Bryant does have a London townhouse in Kensington, so I can hardly complain. Have fun this weekend, you deserve it.”

  She did have fun. An awful lot of fun, right there on the beach, screaming as she rode Maverick, clothes pins on her nipples, all the while wondering if any of the staff could see them.

  Her insides tensed when she caught a glance of t
he housekeeper. Oops. They apparently could.

  The spasm of her inner muscles made Mav speed up, hitting her inner walls faster, harder, until they both came, laughing.

  “Tell me Mrs. Hart is no prude.”

  “Would my brother employ a prude? Don’t worry, she probably quite enjoyed the show. Now come. I’m sure she came to warn us. We’re gonna be late.”

  “Late?” she repeated.

  Wasn’t the point of a desert island getaway never having to use words like late?

  “Yep. I told her to come get us when everyone gets here.”

  “Everyone?” she replied numbly.

  Maverick had a thing for, well, being a dom. Just doing things and informing her when it was all settled. Which worked out because she was more than happy to tag along for the ride.

  “Your parents. My father and brothers. Your roommates. Some of the staff at my job and yours. Your boss and Bryant, of course, and Bash, too.”

  She was downright confused now. “So, everyone we know, basically?”

  He shrugged. “We couldn’t very well get married without them, now could we?”

  * * *

  The End.

  * * *

  Next in the series, expect Hail to the King, Desmond and Ryn’s story.

  I prioritize my release schedule depending on the review ratings – if you liked Deep Down the Rabbit Hole, write a word about it to speed up the release of book three in the series.

  * * *

  Note that Ryn has been traumatized. Hail to the King comes with a trigger warning.

  * * *

  -

  * * *

  Find attached the unedited excerpt of a standalone related to Some Girls Do It and Kings of the Tower: Power Games.

  Power Games, Chapter One: In Bed With a Viper

  Unedited

  Charles had started to realize that the woman he’d admired for years, and perhaps even loved, was no angel. No angel lied with so much ease. What she was, though, he didn’t know. Not yet.

  She opened her door, and took a step back to let him in.

  He’d never seen the Imperial suite; it was similar to his, except for an extra room, and the large balcony giving a clear view of the White House.

  Charles headed out that way, and breathed in and out, attempting to clear his mind. Eventually, she joined him, handing him a tumbler filled with amber liquid. Whiskey, no rock, a dash of water. She knew him well.

  It wasn’t even two in the afternoon, but he drunk it nonetheless. He needed it today.

  “Why?” he asked, finally.

  “You were framed,” she shrugged. “I saw you walking in the hotel last night. I heard you next door. You were here all night.”

  Not with her, though. And she’d lied. “He was with me all night,” she’d said, to the police, no less. Reporters had been within hearing range. No doubt they already had a hashtag trending.

  She was a true American sweetheart loved by almost everyone, and she’d compromised that for him.

  It wasn’t only the fact that they were both entangled in a murder now; even if - when - they were cleared, she would still be that girl, in the eyes of the people. The one who’d fooled around with the married man. No such scandal had ever been attached to her name until now.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  Why had she risked all that for him?

  She managed to force a smile. “And you don’t need one. We’re in this together now, that’s all that matters.”

  It hit him, then. She wanted to be in this together. In this and in what would come after.

  His mind was racing.

  “What will we say?”

  She bit her lip.

  “That we met seven years ago, at dad’s. That we go along, then. I was a young girl who made you laugh, although you were in no mood to joke around. Since, we’ve met perhaps a handful of times, and exchanged a few words,” she said. “Until last year, of course.”

  Charles raised a brow. That much wouldn’t be hard to recall, as it was exactly what had happened.

  “We don’t have to complicate this more than necessary. When I’m asked, I’ll tell them that I found you very handsome, then - and that nothing happened at all between us. You and Bella were together.”

  That sobered him. Bella. His wife. His corpse of a wife.

  “I can’t do this.”

  “You will.” She closed her eyes. “We will. We must, now.”

  She was right. They had no other choice.

  “One year ago, you saw a lawyer about a divorce.” He didn’t ask how she knew that; he’d told her himself. “You put a deposit down. Did you discuss it with Isabella?”

  He nodded, slowly.

  “Good. She would have talked of it with her closest friend, in that case. That may be useful. So, you wanted a divorce; but with the elections coming, you both decided to delay the proceeding. This explains where I come in.”

  Charles was shaking his head. “They’ll find my sperm. Inside her. I was with her the night she was killed; earlier, right before the benefit.”

  Vanessa didn’t so much as raise a brow. “Well, you were married. We’ll make it clear that our association was purely platonic. I was a friend you sought comfort in, when things were difficult at home. Nothing more.”

  He laughed out loud. “Who’ll believe that, Vanessa? Who? You look like every man’s wet dream, and you’re twenty-seven. You, simply being my confident?”

  Vanessa didn’t bother to point out that it was the truth. They were friends. This discussion wasn’t about facts as much as perception. Their whole world was about what people thought of them.

  She shrugged again. “I have, on a number of occasion, publicly said I’d never fuck a man before marriage. So yes, they’ll trust that we weren’t…involved. They’ll also understand the semen issue, should it arise. We’ll say that, recently, you were trying to patch things up. That night, you had sex, then, she brought me up, again, although you’d told her a thousand time that I was simply a friend.”

  Charles watched the woman, closely, studying her features. They betrayed nothing. She didn’t know. Of course, she didn’t, how could she?

  Don’t pretend I’m the problem, Bella had hissed. I’ve seen you, staring at that posh slut. You haven’t looked at me that way in a decade - that’s our issue.

  He’d denied it. She hadn’t been wrong, tough. Their problem hadn’t just been Bella; not anymore. He’d wanted an out, he’d wanted more. Now he had it, and it made him feel sick to his stomach, because Bella was dead.

  Oh, good. Actually dead. And he had been the prime suspect, before Vanessa stepped in.

  “After that argument, you needed a breather, and you came to me.” Vanessa grinned as she improvised. “We spent the night watching Star Wars re-run and fell asleep.”

  “Star Trek,” Charles argued, in an attempt to somehow lighten the conversation, although he felt the ground beneath his feet open up, swallowing him whole. Because surely, if this facade did work, he was bound to hell; and so was Vanessa.

  Back to reality, he protested against her idea. “They could interview any boyfriend of yours and that entire theory would crumble.”

  “No one will have a word contradicting me, I assure you.”

  He swallowed with difficulty. Was she saying what he thought she was? Fuck. Twenty-seven, and built for sin, with her long legs and her perfect ass. How on Earth was she still a fucking virgin?

  He didn’t question it out loud, because he knew why. She’d told him a long time ago. He’d just expected that she would have changed her mind by now, and spread her legs, like any other woman out there.

  First mistake. Vanessa had never been just any woman. She never would be.

  “The best lies are laced with truth. Didn’t your mama tell you?”

  “My mother forbad me to lie at all.”

  Vanessa tilted her head, her long dangling earring sparkled in the dim light of dusk.

  “What an inte
resting world you lived in. But we’re in mine now, and I know its rules.”

  She did. From age eight to sixteen, she’d lived in the White House; the five following years, she’d spent at Yale, before surprising everyone when she’d gone to Hollywood, instead of passing the bar and joining her family’s law firm. She’d excelled, her connection and her voice landing her right to the top. Over the course of the last five years, ‘Nessa’ had built her own empire, full of adoring fans.

  She knew what she was doing; she’d lived under public scrutiny most of her life.

  “It’s never going to work.”

  “Charles,” Vanessa smiled sadly, her delicate hand resting on his cheek, before she straightened the knot of his tie, “it’s already working.”

  Charles hated her, then. He hated her scent, her hand, and the way his heart beat when she was this close. He hated the fact that she was perfection. The fact that they would get out of this room and sell their lies without any effort.

  Because there was more truth than even she had know in the lies she’d woven to keep him out of jail. And worse yet: every single lie she’d invented, he wanted to be true.

  “You’ve thought of everything, it seems. So, tell me, Vanessa, when am I going to propose? I’m sure it’s pencilled in somewhere in this imaginary life of ours.”

  Because that was the reason she’d helped him, the reason she wouldn’t say out loud. Why else would she risk so much for him?

  This turn might be screwed before it had even started, but he’d try again, and she wanted to be First Lady.

  “If we want you to win this election? Soon.”

  No, she was no angel.

  Quite the opposite, in fact.

  “Did you kill my wife?” he asked her.