The Billionaire's Ink Mistress: Billionaires in Bondage, Book 2

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  She sniffed, trying not to cry. Or worse, squeal with excitement and throw her arms around him, spilling expensive scotch all over them both. “Yeah?”

  “He said marry your Mistress as quickly as you can convince her to put a collar on your neck.”

  Glad he couldn’t see her face, she leaned against him, fighting to keep control. She’d hoped and yearned with every fiber of her being that he’d give up everything to come to her, but deep down, she hadn’t really thought he’d do it. It was too much to ask of a man like him.

  Something on his wrist caught her attention. The skin was red and a hint of what looked like ink curled beneath his cuff. Keeping his arms around her, he twisted his hand so the shirtsleeve rode up more, revealing fresh ink on the inside of his wrist.

  “I hope it doesn’t offend you that I had a different artist do some work for me.” He dropped his chin to her shoulder, waiting for her reaction. “I figured you’d want to do the major work yourself, but this is just a small gesture. Something to show my willingness to be yours, Priestess. For as long as you’ll have me.”

  A thin band was inked into his skin, intricate links of chain all the way around his wrist. It looked like an old-fashioned ID bracelet, with a nameplate on the inside of his wrist. But instead of his name, he’d had My Priestess inked on his skin. A blatant sign of ownership.

  Trembling, she lifted his wrist to her mouth and gently kissed it. “I don’t mind. It’s good work.”

  “I called your shop and talked to Arlene. I wanted her to do the work, but she said she was leaving for China. She gave me the name of a shop in Chicago, so that was easier anyway.”

  She tossed back the last of the whiskey and set the tumbler on a side table, so she’d have both hands free. Turning in his arms, she reached up and cradled his face in both hands. “I can’t believe you did it. You really did it. You came.”

  “I want nothing else than to be with you, whatever that means. Collar me, ink every inch of my body, I don’t care. I’m yours, Diana.” Holding her gaze, he turned his mouth enough to kiss the tattoo on her wrist. She knew it wasn’t an accident that he kissed the one that said forever. “You’re my dream and I’m going to dream the rest of my life with you. I want to give you anything and everything you want.”

  “All I want is you, Angel. Well, eventually I’d like to give you those wings we talked about too.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers. “You already did.”

  About the Author

  Joely Sue Burkhart has always loved heroes who hide behind a mask, the darker and more dangerous the better. Whether cool, sophisticated billionaire, brutal bloodthirsty assassin, or simply a man tortured by his own needs, they all wear masks to protect themselves. Once they finally give you a peek into the passionate, twisted secrets they’re hiding, they always fall hard and fast. Dare to look beneath the mask with delicious BDSM in a wide variety of genres with Joely on her website, www.joelysueburkhart.com. If you’d like to know when her next book is available, you can sign up for her newsletter.

  Look for these titles by Joely Sue Burkhart:

  Now Available:

  The Connaghers

  Dear Sir, I’m Yours

  Hurt Me So Good

  Yours to Take

  Never Let You Down

  Billionaires in Bondage

  The Billionaire Submissive

  A Jane Austen Space Opera

  Lady Doctor Wyre

  Her Grace’s Stable

  Lord Regret’s Price

  A devilish alliance, sparked by imperial blood…

  Lord Regret’s Price

  © 2013 Joely Sue Burkhart

  A Jane Austen Space Opera, Book 3

  After weeks of travel, Lord Sigmund Regret’s nerves are frayed. He’s gone too long without a mark, but that’s not the only thing making him edgy. Once the reality of his profession sinks in, he wonders how his Lady Charlotte Wyre will feel when he comes to her bed with fresh blood on his hands.

  Of course, the other man in her life adds more stress to an already complicated relationship. Gilead Masters’s needs are so…normal…compared to Sig’s, which leaves Charlotte turning to him to explore her darkening fantasies. Bondage is one thing. But pain? That’s too close to his bloodline’s violent weakness for Sig’s comfort

  Charlotte can feel Sig pulling away, but there is no time to heal the rift before they land in Zijin, where she is immediately attacked. Britannia’s reach is long, and Queen Majel’s reach is even deeper—and more deadly. As Imperial politics come to a dangerous boil, Charlotte must risk everything to keep her beloved assassin alive, free, and at her side

  Even as he searches for his next mark.

  Warning: Ladies in positions of power, a dragon alien, and a BDSM ménage à trois featuring a duchess on the run, a gentlemanly assassin, and a rough-and-tumble sheriff willing to gun down anyone who gets between him and his lady.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Lord Regret’s Price:

  He stripped off his coat and hat and returned to her room. If there wasn’t a rush to escape Zijin space, she’d likely want to do more shopping. He tapped lightly at the door but didn’t hear a reply. It was early for dinner. She surely would have rung for him to join them if they’d gone downstairs.

  Intrigued, he opened the door with his key and slipped inside. The main parlor room was just as he’d left it not even half an hour before. The lights were still on.

  Charlie had spread several devices across the table, which he had to admit was odd. She usually put her things away under lock and key, afraid that her research would be stolen and misused once more. Along with the things she’d taken from the assassin, he saw two small, plain gift boxes, opened and empty. The boxes had no markings, no indication of where she’d bought the items or what they’d contained.

  Instinctively, he carefully tiptoed toward her bedchamber door using every assassin skill he possessed. A similar box lay on the floor outside her door, wrapped in twine. For him? He must assume so since it wasn’t addressed. He picked up the box and untied the twine to find a strange, three-looped ring inside. It weighed fairly heavy on his palm. While he was mulling over what she’d meant it for, he opened the door and every thought he had leaked out of his ears.

  As though she’d heard him, even though he’d made no sound, Charlie had turned toward the door, dressed in barely anything at all. Pink silk stockings, her favorite. A corset, not shocking, though it wasn’t the iron maiden she’d pretended to be wearing earlier today when he’d been so testy. She’d loosened the top of her chemise so her breasts were bare, lifted like a sacrificial offering by the corset. Delicate chains hung from her nipples. Berry-red and swollen, they were clamped into the jewelry.

  She posed a moment, shoulders thrown back and chin high. “What do you think?”

  He opened his mouth but no words would come out, just a rough growl that didn’t even sound like a man.

  She laughed. “Good. Now let me help you get your gift into place.”

  Relieved that Sig also found her jewelry captivating, Charlotte stepped up to him. His gaze was locked on her breasts. As she neared, he stretched out a finger and lightly touched one clamped nipple. Already engorged and tender, her breast throbbed at the small touch. She groaned out a sound very much like the raw growl he’d made a moment ago.

  The pain—and, yes, it was more pain than pleasure—sent a surge of hot tidal need flooding through her body. Her nipples felt like they were on fire, as large as grapefruit and painfully sensitive.

  How could such a minor caress put her senses on full overload? She moaned again, unable to suppress the extreme sensations pulsing through her. It felt like live wires were attached to her breasts. An electrical current was charging her system higher, into red-alert territory.

  And Sig had done nothing but lightly touch her trapped nipp
le.

  Being an extremely clever and attentive lover, he immediately leaped to give her more of that exquisite pleasure. He dipped his head and captured her other nipple in his mouth.

  Her reaction shocked them all.

  Her knees collapsed. She clutched desperately at his shoulders, her cry rising to embarrassing decibels. Big hands caught her from behind, or she likely would have hit the floor. Gil supported her against his chest.

  Or did he trap her for the other man’s ministrations?

  Because she pushed back, desperate to escape the incredible yet extreme sensations, and he didn’t budge. In fact, he lifted her off her feet, holding her higher, making it easier for Sig’s torment.

  She gasped for air. She even kicked out with one dangling foot, hoping to hit Sig in the shin. He took the opportunity to capture her leg and lift her thigh around his waist.

  “Stop,” she finally managed to get a coherent word to come out of her mouth.

  Sig lifted his head quizzically, his lips quirked in a wicked grin of dark amusement. “My lady?”

  “This is… I can’t… Oh for heaven’s sake.”

  Gil laughed softly against her ear, but there was a strange vibration in his tone that skittered across her nerves. He didn’t sound like himself. His laugh was almost…cruel. A lot could be said against a man who’d hidden his true identity from her for over a year in order to win her cooperation, but he’d never been cruel.

  “You must be doing something right, Sig. She can’t finish a complete sentence.”

  Sig trailed a fingertip down the valley between her breasts, but he thankfully avoided the torturously swollen tips. “I see you found some interesting toys at that shop, Charlie. I never expected you to be the victim of experimentation.”

  “I’m no victim,” she retorted, seizing a handful of his hair in her fist. She jerked his head back, hard, enjoying the way his eyes tightened with warning, even while his nostrils flared wide. “The intensity of this experiment merely caught me unawares.”

  “You’re feeling pretty damn aware to me, Charlie.” Gil growled against her ear, his breath a hot torment. His palm edged up her rib cage, rough, calloused fingers inching toward her breasts. The thought of his big hand wrapping around her breast made her squirm helplessly, twisting in his grip—whether to flee or urge him to hurry, she didn’t know.

  And the sounds…

  Majel help her, she’d never made such ridiculous sounds before for a man. Never.

  “If you truly want us to stop, you must tell us now.” Sig’s voice was rough, losing his normal genteel persona. Ignoring the fierce grip on his hair, he bent his head back toward her breasts. The very brush of his breath made her cry out again. “Do you like this? Do you want this? Or is it too much?”

  Panting, she had to think and categorize her own reactions, because she honestly didn’t know. Her breasts hurt. Every slight touch made her want to whimper and plead and beg.

  And I never beg.

  Control is her kink…and she’s losing it.

  The Christmas She Rules

  © 2009 Jennifer Leeland

  It’s another gloomy Christmas for Pamela Dane. Not only is it the anniversary of a dark period in her life, but all her friends had the nerve to hook up. It’s not easy for a female Domme to find a playmate. Maybe The Cage in San Francisco will be the perfect place to escape—and find a willing man to chase away the memories.

  Christian Nolan is at the BDSM club for the hell of it. Yet the minute Mistress Dane takes control of him, she not only stuns him with her talent, he stuns himself with his willingness to surrender. Her offer to meet him there for another night is intriguing—and frightening.

  Pamela’s session with Chris shakes her to the core, resurrecting memories she’s afraid to face. But Chris isn’t willing to let her past haunt her…even if it leaves his heart in tatters.

  Warning: Hot, strong man on his knees, which will bring you to yours. Strap-on action, anal play, lots of leather and tons of tension. Alpha male who likes to do whatever the right woman tells him to do, including another woman.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for The Christmas She Rules:

  Lights flickered as The Cage Club maintained the illusion of candlelight with electric bulbs. Pamela’s gaze darted over the patrons. Not too many Dominants and several submissives. Those were odds she liked. On the counter was a small Christmas tree about two feet high. Amusingly, the ornaments were tiny little whips and handcuffs.

  She made a beeline for the club owner. She’d met Dominique years earlier through David and now that acquaintance was paying off. She’d been given a free pass for the Christmas holidays and access to private rooms. New members were often restricted, but she was welcomed because of David’s word. Her leather corset tightened unbearably as she bent down to wipe the rain off her black boots. Her tight pants, black wig and heavy makeup were her costume, her disguise. She dressed the part so no submissive would mistake her for something else. She was Mistress Dane in this world and every inch of her screamed that fact.

  In the center of the club was a large area surrounded by wrought iron bars. A huge sign above the entrance said “The Cage” and within the confines were several groupings of people, some standing, some on all fours. Whips, canes and crops were wielded with expertise. Dominique followed her gaze, her blue eyes lit with anticipation. “Did David tell you about our cage?”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “It’s usually the first step for newcomers. Here they can practice, play, discover each other under the watchful—and lustful—gaze of others.” Dominique’s voice was smoky. “The sounds and the smells are the most memorable part of my club.”

  It was much rawer, coarser and less controlled than David’s dungeon. Pamela smiled. Perhaps this was what she needed. Dominique pointed to an area near the right side of the cage. “Those four over there match your questionnaire. I asked them to wait.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “Only that you are a visiting Domme and would like to play.” Dominique gazed at her. “They are all…unattached.”

  With a quick nod, Pamela stepped away from the counter. She scanned the submissives Dominique had chosen and spotted one man in the corner. He did not stroke himself, but stared transfixed at the women on their knees. His erection bulged in his slacks and he wore no shirt. He had straight, cropped brown hair and a square jaw. By the length of his legs Pamela could tell he was tall even though he was seated. His eyes riveted her, however. They were a tawny gold that shone in the muted light around him. Something in his manner revealed his preference.

  Cautiously, she stepped across the room. A woman moved away from the wall and presented herself with head bowed, but Pamela only registered she was female before she moved on. She wanted a man tonight. A very specific man. When she reached the man he glanced up and then dropped his gaze immediately. Definitely a submissive.

  “Are you engaged?” she asked formally.

  “No, Mistress.”

  “Do you wish to play?”

  His breath hitched and his hands twisted. “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Come with me.” She turned away and approached the large counter at the entrance. He followed at a respectful distance, tall and quiet.

  “Do you have your own collar?”

  Silence for a heartbeat and then, “No, Mistress.”

  It wasn’t common to collar a sub the first time at play, but Pamela wanted the formality, the illusion of ownership. Just another part of the fantasy. It made it feel less…random.

  She glanced at Dominique who found three and laid them out for Pamela to choose from. One was a dog collar with pretty stones. No, too feminine. Good for a puppy boy, but this submissive might be more of a challenge. The second collar was smooth and sleek. Again, not really his style. Or hers, for that matter. The last one had spikes
on the inside that would press against his skin. She lifted it from the counter and turned to the man. “This one.”

  He glanced at it and fire flickered in his gaze. The bulge in his pants strained. Yes, this was the right one to choose

  Sleeping with the colonel’s daughter? Risky. Making her call you Sir? Reckless.

  Own

  © 2014 Katie Porter

  Command Force Alpha, Book 1

  When a mission against the Russian mafia goes south, Colonel Stafford, head of a deep-cover ops team, wrests a hospital-bed promise from his protégé. Although eager to return to the field, Evan Sommers swears to keep the colonel’s daughter, Katsu, safe from retaliation.

  The task isn’t simple for the battle-tested Marine Corps captain. Four years have passed since his secret affair with sweet, compliant Katsu. Now she’s a streetwise pool shark who refuses to obey any command.

  Kat resists the need for Evan’s protective shadow, until deadly threats expose her vulnerability. Her future depends on this hardened soldier, and their sizzling dynamic reveals what Kat’s bland college dating life lacked—a man with the will and desire to tame her.

  Danger creates potent, unexpected scenarios that test their sexual limits, yet a real relationship is impossible. Evan is the warrior who could be her Master, but how can she fully submit? The next mission—even the next knock on the door—could rob Kat of the man she loves.

  Warning: This book contains a reformed playboy Specials Ops stud who knows how to tease, demand and spank what he wants out of a colonel’s unruly pool shark of a daughter. Wait…how is this supposed to be a warning?