by Marie Harte
Ritter laughed off the teasing he’d received when the guys ribbed him about his new boyfriend. Trevor noticed his friend didn’t much care what anyone thought. Personally, from what he’d witnessed, he thought Ritter and their mystery guy had some chemistry. What would Emma think when he told her?
Emma again.
He finally arrived home at two in the morning. Exhausted yet needing to be with her, he took a quick shower and joined her in bed. She lay sleeping, dressed in one of his favorites, a sheer red nightie that exposed more than it hid. Moonlight streamed through his window, highlighting her like the angel she was.
He stared down at her as he stroked her hair, her face, her shoulder. And he knew that he could no longer hold it in. Danger might be a new part of his life, but it was a tempered threat. What mattered was Emma. His future. A life with his sister and her new family—his new family. Mac, Shelby, Shane, Mimi and the others. Hell, even Ruth, who now worked alongside Emma at the bakery, no longer mouthing off at every opportunity, but humbled and loving, the way Emma had wanted for so long.
“I’d give you the world if I could, kitten,” he whispered and kissed her lips.
She smiled in her sleep.
And then she said, “I only need a few tiny words.”
“Little faker.”
She laughed but kept her eyes closed. “I love you, Trevor.”
His heart full, he finally said what he’d been feeling for too long. “I love you too, Emma.”
She opened her eyes, the dark depths pulling him in. Drowning him in affection. “Oh, Trevor.”
“I want it all. Marriage, kids everything.”
“I do too.” She drew his head down for a kiss. “More than anything. I love you, Sir.” She paused. “But there’s something I need to tell you.” She sounded so serious, yet the playful glint in her gaze told him she was teasing.
“Oh?”
“I’ve been naughty and played with a few toys.” She pulled back her pillow and showed him the anal plug and dildo he’d purchased for her a few days ago. Toys she’d been told not to touch without his permission.
She turned onto her belly and lifted the back of her nightie. The sweetheart wasn’t wearing panties. “I’m so sorry, Sir.”
“You need to be spanked.” And loved, and kept by his side forever.
“I do,” she agreed, trying to hide a smile.
A few slaps and she was begging to be a good girl.
“Show me how good you can be,” Trevor ordered and sat back on the bed, then groaned when she took him to the back of her throat. She sucked him so well, taking him close to the brink before he tugged her back by her hair. “Is my kitty all wet? Show Master.”
She slipped her fingers between her legs then held the glistening digits for Trevor to see.
He took them into his mouth, more than ready to come. But his kitten needed discipline. “Not yet. Grab me the lube and the toys.” He smacked her ass. “Now.”
Once he stuffed her full, with the dildo in her pussy and the plug in her ass, he ordered her not to come while he sucked her clit and rolled her nipples. Seeing her writhe under him, knowing how much she loved and wanted him, sent him into a place he never wanted to leave.
He withdrew the dildo, and with her sprawled under him on her back, he entered her slowly, loving the feel of pressure on his cock from the plug.
“I’m home, kitten. And I never want to leave.”
“Yes, Sir. Come home.”
“Only if you come with me.” He kissed her, and it didn’t take long before she was clenching him as she came, and he was pouring into her. Coming so hard, so deep into her body. Into his little sub. They cleaned up together, then sank back into bed.
While they lay under the covers, a funny thought struck, and he chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“I used to do wetwork for the government, you know.”
“Oh, right. Assassination stuff.” She snuggled in his arms.
“But the only wetwork I want right now is what I just had.”
After a moment, she punched him in the arm. “Trevor. That was terrible.”
Laughing, he knew he’d find her blushing if had the energy to turn over and look into her face. “But true. I want some more wetwork, kitten.”
Her hand found him under the covers, and then he wasn’t laughing anymore when his kitten showed him how skilled she was with her tongue.
About the Author
Caffeine addict, boy referee, and romance aficionado, USA Today bestselling author Marie Harte has over 100 books published with more constantly on the way. She’s a confessed bibliophile and devotee of action movies. Whether hiking in Central Oregon, biking around town, or hanging at the local tea shop, she’s constantly plotting to give everyone a happily ever after. Visit http://marieharte.com and fall in love.
Other Releases
Bodywork (The Works 1)
Working Out (The Works 2)
Wetwork (The Works 3)
Tip of the Spear
Of the Night
Tied and True (Satyr’s Myst 1)
Reaper’s Reward (Satyr’s Myst 2)
Satyr’s Myst (Satyr’s Myst 3)
Willa’s Wish (Satyr’s Myst 4)
A Familiar Face
Tempting Traditions
Blackthorne’s Light
Mirror, Mirror
Saturnalia
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And don’t miss the first two books in the series—Bodywork and Working Out.
An excerpt from BODYWORK
By six thirty, Shelby had finished with her last client of the day and waved as the kind woman departed. Arching her back, she tried to rub away some of her own tension, knowing her night was far from over. She returned to the front desk to catch up on paperwork.
Massage therapy helped rid the body of contaminants and generally relieved stress. Yet more times than not, Shelby found herself mired in bills and the business side of things rather than dealing with the healing nature of her profession.
The phone rang, breaking into her thoughts. After taking a message, she frowned at the closed door of her massage room, wishing like hell the contractor would finish patching up the wall in Denise’s room. She checked the appointment book and noted Shane Collins scrawled in Denise’s barely legible handwriting. The appointment listed six o’clock, so Denise more than likely had another half hour to go.
Damn, Shelby hated to interrupt the massage, but she knew Denise would need to act on the message right away. She knocked quietly on the closed door and heard a low murmur from the room.
Denise opened the door an inch and peered out. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve got a message for you that’s urgent.”
“No problem.” Denise called over her shoulder, “Shane? I’m sorry. I have to take this call, but I’ll be right back.” A low male voice answered before she left the room and closed the door behind her, then moved to the desk. “So who called?”
“Sorry, but it’s the man in your life. I’m afraid he’s broken his leg.” Shelby waited for the worried explosion sure to follow. Denise was fanatical about her man.
“Oh my God! Cupcake! What happened? Was that my mother?”
“Yeah. Your mom said he must have gotten loose somehow and ran out of the yard. A car driving at the speed limit hit him, so he’s not too roughed up. I know you’ll want to see how he’s doing. Why don’t you go, and I’ll finish up your client?”
Denise had tears in her eyes. Cupcake meant the world to her. A scrawny mutt she’d picked up at the pound, he’d been with her through thick and thin. “Are you sure?” Denise wiped her eyes.
Shelby handed Denise her car keys from the desk and nodded. “Go on home. Give me a call later and let me know how he’s doing.”
Denise flew out the door, and Shelby shook her head. She prayed, for Denise’s peace of mind, that the dog would make it.
Realizing she now had a client to pacify, she quickly mo
ved into the bathroom to wash her hands and returned to her room. She entered to the soothing sounds of new age music and the slight aroma of jasmine from the burning candle in the corner. Dim yet peaceful, the room radiated serenity and relaxation.
“I’m sorry about the interruption,” she said quietly to the man lying on his stomach with his head down and resting in the doughnut-shaped pillow, which allowed for ease of breathing. He appeared almost asleep, his back rising and falling evenly, but he mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear. Before she could say anything more, he turned his head to the side, his eyes still closed.
Shelby barely contained her dismay. Upon her table lay the half-naked form of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Rude from that morning. His upper body was bare, a sheet draped over his lower back, buttocks, and legs. She glanced at the clothing rack on the wall to confirm his identity. The same black jacket and dark trousers hung from a hook, along with a blue shirt.
She stared back down at him and resisted the urge to lean into his ear and yell at him to get the hell out of her clinic. That would scare the impoliteness out of him. But her professionalism wouldn’t let her. Word of mouth traveled fast, and this guy already didn’t like her. She frowned at the thought of him telling people bad things about her business and could almost see the dollar signs flying away.
Grimacing at his unfairly handsome face, she wondered why he’d ventured into her place. Seattle had more than fifty massage clinics open at any given time, yet Mr. Rude managed to pick hers. Some cosmic joke at work, surely. She swore under her breath.
“I’m going to turn your head so you don’t strain your neck.” She turned his face back into the doughnut-shaped pillow. Frowning at the feel of his skin under her palms, she felt uncomfortable with the heat that raced up her arms. She shook off the strangeness and focused on the rest of the massage.
As she continued to work on his back, she couldn’t help noticing the smooth muscles and power in his build. He had a very nice body, she thought with objectivity. As a person comfortable and familiar with human physiology, she was a good judge of such things. And a person would need to be blind and plain oblivious not to see that this man kept in very good shape. He had wonderful tone and definition. Working on him was actually very easy due to his fluidity.
As she brought clinical detachment to the forefront of her thoughts, she scrambled to bury the needy woman inside her screaming to see how his ass might feel under her hands.
“Does that feel all right?” she asked softly. She didn’t want him to know she wasn’t Denise. He needed to get his money’s worth and at the same time think positively about Bodyworks. If she gave him a great massage, he’d be too relaxed to be angry with her when he paid her at the session’s end and recognized her. She hoped.
“Mmm,” he mumbled. “That feels great.”
The sexy rasp of his voice made her belly flutter. Her massage wasn’t in the least bit sexual, but she couldn’t help feeling arousal at contact with his body. God, I am not getting turned on by this guy. He’s a lump of clay, something I can mold into healthy muscles.
She continued to work on his back. Then she changed position to work on his legs, keeping the sheet in place over his firm, tight ass. Buttocks, not ass. Ass is sexy. Buttocks is professional. She felt like a mental patient at odds with herself. Not the best time for slutty Shelby to make an appearance.
“I need to move the sheet so I can get to your legs.” Even as she said it she hesitated, waiting for his assent, half hoping he’d insist he didn’t need any more of her time, half wishing he’d tell her to get rid of the sheet and hop on.
“Go ahead,” he rumbled. “I’m half asleep as it is.”
Shelby gritted her teeth and moved the sheet. Then she worked on the muscles of his legs, moving over his hamstrings and calves. They were rock hard and incredibly sexy—firm, athletic. Not sexy. Clients were never sexy. Rule number one of massage.
“Are you a runner?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Mmm, hmm. Every day I can.”
“Your legs are very toned.” She worked a rough section of his hamstrings. Smoothing over the fascia, the connective tissue covering the muscle, she released a build-up of toxins in his body. He sighed, and she moved down toward his calves, then to his feet.
He shifted a bit, and she stopped.
“Does it tickle?”
He mumbled a yes, and she grinned. Maybe she could torture him by tying him down and tickling his feet, demanding an apology for her ruined coffee. Or better yet, she could tie him up and blindfold him, then have her wicked way with him with none the wiser.
Oh hell. Her sexual hiatus had come to a crashing halt. For some stupid reason, this jerk had jumped her libido but good. She hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind all day, and she’d tried. Now, after touching him… She glanced down at her nipples, horrified to see them through her shirt, standing at attention.
She’d blame her obvious arousal on the air conditioner if she had to. She might be able to ignore that, but the tingling between her legs and her racing pulse? Not so much.
Why did Mr. Rude have to have the best ass she’d ever not seen, the sexiest legs she’d ever felt, and the smoothest muscle she’d ever touched?
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, calling on every ounce of professionalism and neutrality she could muster. It really wouldn’t do to have her client catch her ogling his body. She could lose her license for less.
Shelby opened her eyes and reined in her crazy impulses, determined to give him what he paid for. But she needed him to turn over to finish. Good God, she could all too easily imagine giving him a “happy ending” and turning into the cliché from hell.
Let it go, woman. Finish the massage, then go find a man.
“Okay, Shane. Now I need you to turn over so I can do your front.” Ignore the innuendo. Ignore the innuendo.
He visibly tensed, and she held her breath, praying.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Blurb
Copyright
TOC
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven