by Jemma Bell
This has got to be a dream. I can’t believe my ears. Derrick Walker is kneeling in front of me, holding out a ring, asking me to marry him. I need someone to pinch me, so I know I’m not dreaming. It takes the loud rhythmic pounding on the bathroom door behind him to snap me out of my daze. Derrick just laughs, and I focus on his smiling face as the voices on the other side of the door become clear. It’s Riven and Layla banging on the door chanting, “Say yes, say yes.” It makes me laugh as well, that our close friends were part of this memorable day. A few months ago we met in a bathroom, changing both our lives forever. It seems fitting that he chose another bathroom to ask me this question. Looking down at Derrick, still kneeling in front of me. I cup his handsome face in my hands. Leaning over I brush my lips against his and whisper my answer against his lips.
“Yes, I’ll marry you. I love you, too, Derrick.” Slipping the ring on my finger, it’s a perfect fit. A perfect fit, just like we are together.
Acknowledgements
Well, here it is. The end of my first book. I hope you have enjoyed this journey with Derrick and Amy as much as I have. There are about four other books planned to add to this series, so if you liked Nerd Girl, please leave a review at your place of purchase so I may continue to write and bring you new adventures.
I myself am a lover of books and there’s nothing I like more than opening a new book and discovering new lands, new characters and falling in love right alongside those characters. Call me a romantic, I don’t mind. Nerd Girl would not have been possible without the help and support of a few special people.
Addyson Thompson: You were the first person I let read the first 2500 words of Nerd Girl. Your words were, “There’s more, right? Tell me there’s more.” Your encouragement and excitement gave me the push I needed to start writing. We started sharing ideas and discussing each others work in progress. Writing which was never my strongest subject in school suddenly became fun. Supporting each other and and talking things through gave birth to a new character for you and more authentic humor for a some of mine. Addyson, you are a fantastic author and an even better, supportive friend. I am so proud to call you that. Much appreciation to you my dear. ((Hugs))
Authors Gone Wild: I am blessed to be a part of a special group of up and coming authors. Winter Travers, Annelise Reynolds, Lindsey Anne, Addyson Thompson and I are Authors Gone Wild. Indie publishing can be very confusing and stressful. No one tells you when you’re doing something right, but they sure as heck let you know when you’re doing something wrong. We all met and became friends as each of us were a fan of fellow Indie author who is established and writes a spectacular MC Romance series. Feeling comfortable enough to share our ambitions with each other and taking a chance on success we created a secret FaceBook group so we could beta read, bounce ideas off each other and just support one another. We realized as a group we are quite a force to be reckoned with. I never would have gotten this far if not for you ladies. Each of you are very talented and I can’t wait for the rest of the world to enjoy the fruits of your writing. Here’s to a new generation of authors and a bright future for AGW.
Brandi C and Michelle W: You ladies are the only people outside of AGW that got a taste for Nerd Girl as I was writing it. Your excitement and possitivity helped push me to write faster so I could get you the next chapter and we could discuss my characters like they were old friends. Even though many miles separate us, I feel closer to you girls than I do friends that are just around the corner. Thank you for believing in me. ((Hugs))
Mr. Bell AKA (My Hubs): Thank you for all of your support and bullying me into writing this book. It was bullying done out of love! (I know.) That fire you lit underneath me burned bright and here I sit, writing my acknowledgements for my first book. MY FIRST BOOK! Eeep! I never thought I would say that. Thank you for all my teasers, my book cover, your support, your pride in me and for just being there. I love you. It’s unbelievable to me that I wrote this book with our three children in the background fighting over the T.V., whining for a snack or just being the little twerps we know they can be. I’m in love with each of the little munchkins and I hope when they are older that they aren’t to embarrassed to share with their friends that their mother writes smut. ;)
To all of the Blogs and Bloggers: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the chance on a nobody and pimping my teasers or just getting the word out that Jemma Bell will be releasing a book. I owe you much and appreciate all you do!!
Big Hugs and Sloppy Kisses to: Smut and Bon Bon’s, The Smut-Brarians, SiSi’s Bookwhores, M&B Books Blog, Sugar Shack Book Blog, Escape into my Reads Book Blog, AGW Takes to the Streets Team and Joy Ann Jumuad (The one woman Street Team). All of you are very special to me and I’m grateful to know you.
Orchids
Coming Soon
from
Addyson Thompson
Excerpt from Orchids
Book 2: In the Light Series
By Addyson Thompson
Coming 2015
Chapter 1
Brooklyn
“No….No…Brantley…Nooo…Mommy!” Darkness surrounds me when I wake up drenched in sweat. My breaths come in pants as another nightmare steals my sleep. They are all the same but they’ve been worse since last weekend’s revelations with Donnie. I love and hate these dreams. I hate them because I don’t want to relive the day I lost control and killed my happiness. I love them because its one last look at them. One last touch of their hands. The dreams are also a reminder as to why I am the way I am. The dreams remind me to keep people out.
Looking to the clock it reads 4:40 in the morning. There’s no use in me trying to go back to sleep since I have to be up in just over three hours to meet Hayden for our monthly pamper-ourselves-day. Normal people would take the opportunity to sleep more. I am not like normal people. Sleep is something I don’t get much. Thank goodness for concealer. If I try to go back to sleep the nightmares will continue to come and I’ll have to relive that horrid day in vivid technic color. It’s easier to pick up a book and get lost in someone else’s fantasy for a while.
I get out of bed and dress in my sweats and hooded sweatshirt. I pull the hood over my head and my body starts to relax. Making my way to the kitchen, I grab a bottle of orange juice and my Kindle off the table by my door where it was charging. Hmm, what will it be? A rock star? A MMA fighter? Oh, maybe a biker this time. Amy just lent me the first book of this motorcycle club romance she loves so much. Dropping on the couch, I drag the chenille throw off the back and settle in for some hot biker love.
~~~
Three months later…
I don’t know what it is but the atmosphere doesn’t feel right in here. I’m at Club Black. I haven’t been here in a couple months. Not since the disastrous night with Donnie at the hotel. I came to grab a drink and relax, not to play. However, relaxing isn’t working out so well. I wish I felt at home in here or anywhere. At one point, I was comfortable here but circumstances have changed and that comfort is gone. I just can’t pretend anymore. Feeling at peace is something with which I’ve always struggled. In my sweats and hoodie locked away in my loft is the closest I get to peace. I don’t allow people in my space. Hayden is the only one I trust enough to let in freely. Here, though, here is different. Usually here, I am as comfortable as I’m going to get outside my space.
Tonight? Tonight the air feels different, charged. There is an unsettling vibe in the air. I feel as if someone is watching me. Waiting to strike when I least expect it. I’ve tried to look around without being conspicuous but I don’t see anything unnatural. Maybe it’s my anxiety on edge from my latest conversation with the infuriating Carver, or Static, as he’s known here. Oh that man just goads me any chance he has. He shows up in my office, walks in and sits down uninvited as if he owns the place. The man drives me nuts. I can’t get away from him at work or here. If it isn’t his play of ‘I’ll-peel-back-your-layers-and-find-the-real-you-like-it-or-not’ it’s his belief he can make m
e stop coming and playing. I don’t know who he thinks he is but it really pisses me off.
Earlier this week he showed up in my office and demanded I terminate my membership to Club Black. I was sitting facing my computer, when my door opened and he sauntered in like the pompous ass he is.
“Don’t you know how to knock?” I scolded the arrogant ass that just waltzed into my office as if he had a right. He strolls over to my guest chair across my desk and sits down without a care in the world. I scowl at the door he didn’t bother to close. I don’t like my office door open. It invites unwanted guests, even if a closed door didn’t stop this one. Though, that’s probably a good thing he left it open. I highly doubt he would be in here asking for a date or whatever nonsense he has in his head this time if the door was open.
I look at him dryly and sigh, “What do you want, Mr. James?”
He shakes his head in disapproval. “Mr. James? Why so formal, Brooklyn? Certainly, I thought we were friends. Friends call each other by their first name. You are more than welcome to call me Carver.” He pauses long enough to smile a wicked smile at me. Oh shit, the things that smile do to my panties. I ignore the desire that smile invokes and wait him out. “After all-” he continues – “you might as well get use to it now, since you will be screaming it later.”
That friggin’ jerk! My eyes dart to the open door hoping no one could hear this conversation before flipping back to him. “Cut it out, James and tell me what you really want.”
Carver leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, speaking in a low voice. “…as I have you bent over...” He pauses before continuing “…blindfolded…” another pauses but still I say nothing mesmerized by his index finger gliding slowly back and forth across his bottom lip. “…wrist bound behind your back…”his voice becomes more and more husky with each desire he shares “…while I pound into your sweet pussy from behind.” He smirks knowing he’s gotten to me. He always does.
I shake myself from the lust filled haze he’s pulled me into. Dammit. He sits back in the chair and crosses an ankle on the opposite knee, like he has not one care in the world. He’s wearing a suit. I hate him in a suit. One, they don’t do justice to that rocking body I’m pretty sure he is hiding under there. Two he looks like a pretentious asshole. Ok, I can get behind the asshole part but not the pretentious part, even if I call him that whenever possible. He’s actually a pretty nice guy…just too…shit, I don’t know. Ugh, this man drives me nuts.
I cross my arms over my chest and frown at him. “Knock it off, Mr. James. Why are you here?” The way this man can get to me is really starting to annoy me.
He continues to stare at me for a few more minutes, never changing the smirk on his face and says, “Alright, then. I want you. I’m sure you’ve worked that out by now.”
I stare at him blankly as my mind races to process what he’s just said. He wants me? What the hell? How? One night? As his submissive? Always? I’m confused. I thought he’s just been screwing with me because he can. I’ve made it clear to him that I don’t do relationships.
He continues before I can respond. “I want you to terminate your membership to Club Black.”
The name of the private sex club we both belong to snaps me out of my brain fog. Quickly, I jump up and rush to slam my open office door. “You asshole!” I hiss at him once my door is shut. I stalk over to stand next to him. “What the hell are you thinking bringing that up in my office?” I am completely outraged he would be so bold.
“Brooklyn,” he says calmly, “go sit down and we’ll talk.” He gestures towards my seat as he says this.
“No! You have no business bringing that up in here.” I whisper yelled.
“Brooklyn,” His tone is stern, smirk gone. “I will not discuss anything with you while you loom over me. I am not your pretend submissive. I do not pretend just to placate you. Go sit down now and we will discuss this properly.”
Subconsciously I’m compelled to obey as my legs carry me over to my chair. Why am I following his directions? Who the hell does this man think he is?
“Now that we are seated like grown adults-”I start to interrupt his scolding to tell him to fuck off but one glare stops me in my tracks. Eff me. No one has ever made me back down, but yet, I’m giving him this power to do so? What is wrong with me? “As I was saying, I want you. I do not want you as a submissive but I do want you to let me in. I am terminating my membership as well as you are. I told you several weeks ago I was going to see the real you, not this fake persona you show the world. You can be stubborn about this or you can let me in, but I guarantee, I will win.” With that he stands, straightens the sleeves of his suit jacket and walks to the door. Before opening the door he turns back to me, “I expect your membership to be terminated within the week.” He then leaves my office and me staring after him.
Holy shit! That man is hot, maddening, sexy, frustrating and domineering. He is also completely off his rocker if he thinks I’m going to follow his orders. He may be able to excite a desire in me the likes I’ve never known, but he will not tell me what to do.
Life has been quiet since I called Carver’s name while with Donnie. I haven’t played with anyone since. Everyone seems to be giving me a wide birth. I doubt Donnie said anything it just isn’t like him. He’s sweet not vindictive. Speaking of the devil, I think as Donnie walks over smiling his wide happy smile.
“Sky, it’s great to see you here.” He says as he leans over and kisses my cheek.
“Hi, Donnie, how are you?” I question, smiling back at him as I gesture for him to take the seat across from me.
“Good.” He says genuinely. “I have a new submissive. I’ve also started dating her. She’s a sweet girl. She should be here soon.”
“That’s great, Donnie. I’m really happy for you.” I truly am. He deserves to be happy.
The longer we talk the more stifling the air becomes. It’s starting to make me very uncomfortable. Instead of staying in an environment that doesn’t feel right, I stand and excuse myself. I am just about to leave when movement from a shadowed corner catches my eye. I look over and realize Static is standing with his arms folded across his chest. Man does he look pissed, though it makes me chuckle a little inside. Well, he can just be pissed. I’m not terminating my membership and there isn’t a damn thing he can do about it. I do have to admit, pissed looks good on him, really good. He’s wearing dark, distressed, relax-fit jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt. His dark hair is artfully messed. I can’t even see his eye color in this light but I know they are dark. So dark, they are close to black, which is not his normal eye color. His eyes are normally as light as the Caribbean Sea. They only darken when he’s angry. It gives him this bad boy appearance that is freaking hot, though I’d never admit it to him.
“I thought I told you to terminate your membership.” He says coldly.
Crossing my arms over my chest, mirroring his stance, with the exception my hip is popped out I reply equally coldly, “Oh, I heard what you told me to do, doesn’t mean I’m going to do it.” His eyes drop to my chest where my breast, small though they may be, have pushed up. His eyes roam over the short metallic dark red tube dress I’m wearing, down my legs to my two inch black stiletto heels then back up to my eyes.
“Is that right?” He questions with a glint in his eye.
Before I can confirm, he’s got a hold of my elbow dragging me back to the hall that contains the private couple’s rooms. Is this man out of his mind? There is no way I’m going to one of those rooms with him. I want to fight, punch him or even scream at him to let me go but I don’t. I have an issue with making a scene. I will not do it unless my safety is in danger. Carver may be a lot of things but an abuser he is not. We reach the end of the hall where a door is tucked discreetly in the corner. He turns the handle and tries to drag me up the stairs. I resist by planting my feet, halting our progress.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Static? Get your damn hands off me.” I snap as I rip my elbo
w from his grip. His grip wasn’t tight, just enough to keep a hold of me as he moved me where he wanted me.
“Sky!” A gruff voice sounds from the top of the steps. “Get up here, now.” He yells. The voice doesn’t sound angry, however, the sternness proves the man behind it expects his orders to be followed.
I look over to Static. He’s wearing a diabolical grin on his handsome face, making me uneasy. “Who the fuck is that?” I hiss at Static and gesture to the top of the stairs.
“River.” He states triumphantly. River? A sense of dread washes over me. What in the hell has Static done. River: the owner and great and powerful wizard of Club Black.
“You sonuvabitch. What did you do?” I am so freaking pissed at Static right now. His ass better have not got me terminated from here or he will regret it.
“Sky, NOW!” The voice, I now know belongs to River, barks.
I stomp up the steps to a grand office space and stop just at the top. It is dimly lit offering a mysterious, eerie ambiance. A bank of monitors sits to the left displaying every inch of the club, including the parking lot. The opposite wall, from where I stand, has a picture window overlooking the entire club. River’s imposing black executive’s desk sits in front of the large window. Black granite covers the floor. He is sitting in a large, sleek black, what I’m sure is high quality leather upholstered traditional style wing-backed chair with his back to the desk and me. I can only guess he is monitoring the club through his window. The only part of River I can see is his suit jacket covered right forearm as his elbow rest on the armrest of the imposing chair. He never joins the members downstairs. Rumor has it, when he plays his partner is always blindfolded. Hell, I’m not sure if anyone has ever seen him. What is it with these guys and suits? Obviously, guys in suits annoy me. The smoke from the cigar pinched between his thumb and first two fingers only adds to the sinister feel of the room.