What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7)

by Lexi Buchanan

  He took another breath. Maybe he should have indulged in the wine earlier, but he thought he needed to be completely clear-headed for this.

  The server came out right on time, passing on a small box to him, and he didn’t think Dahlia’s eyes could get any bigger.

  He went to her side and bent to her on one knee, presenting the now-opened box to her, the diamond reflecting in Dahlia’s eyes.

  He grabbed her hand, never taking his eyes off of her face.

  “I love you, Dahlia Bridges. Marry me—no prenup, I don’t care; I need you to trust that I’m in this for the long haul. Besides, I don’t need the money, Dahlia—none of this feels right without you. I feel like you helped me become what I am today, like I built all of this with you in mind, with your belief in me powering me. I need you, Dahlia, and if you change your mind about me and take off with half my money, I don’t care; I’ll know Angelo’s taken care of, and you won’t work at that awful place again. Even if you say no now, I’ll still pay for Angelo’s schooling—whatever he needs: college, med school, law school, engineering…whatever. And he keeps that fund I set up for him—at least let me do that. For you and him. No obligation.”

  He watched her face scrunch. It was coming—he could feel it. How could she refuse him when her face was beginning to compress like that? This was both of their dreams; he knew it. Yet his heart slammed against his chest so hard, it almost felt like fear.

  “Back then I never said anything to you except for some stupid love letter I wrote you in seventh grade, without even having the courage to put my name on it. But I’m going to be clear now—I want you to be Dahlia Wilde.” He watched her face, and then remembered what she had said about him running her life. “I mean, you don’t have to, obviously. I’m totally fine with you keeping your last name. I’m so used to saying it that way anyway, right, Dahlia Bridges?”

  Dahlia lost it, then, and concern surged through him at her sobs until he saw her nodding emphatically, and how wide her smile was beneath the hands now covering her face.

  She quickly pulled herself together and said, “Yes, Alec. There’s no way I could refuse you. I don’t stand a chance against you and I hate that you knew it all along. But I love you, too, Alec. You’re…” She produced something resembling a chuckle or a giggle, like she had some kind of inside joke. “You’re a dream come true.”

  Alec slipped the ring on her finger and then grabbed her by the waist, lifting her up into his arms, joy surging through him at the feel of her, and increasing as her grip on him tightened. There was not a better feeling in the entire world.

  Twenty years after meeting her and knowing she was the one, he finally had his girl.

  “I have a few more confessions,” Alec said as they headed back to her apartment.

  Dahlia rolled her eyes. “Oh boy.”

  “Your sister knows about this night—about what I planned for you, so we might have had a conversation about you before.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “Also, I organized your delays in order to meet Angelo and be there when you finally got to him that first day. And remember the night your babysitter had an ‘emergency?’” he said, using air quotes.

  “Wow. Alec, you’re going to have to stop orchestrating my life; at the very least, you’re going to have to talk to me first, before you make decisions involving my son and me.”

  “Fine, but if there’s one rule that stands, it’s that security stays on you. Don’t worry, you won’t even know they’re there. And they won’t tell me what you’re up to when you’re shopping for my presents.”

  Dahlia laughed. After a moment, she sobered up. “You should find out what’s going on with your brother. He was mean to me, but I recognize what he did—hurt people hurt people. I don’t want to be the reason you guys stop speaking to each other.”

  “Thanks, and with the weight of your new status, I’ll definitely take your words into consideration.” He paused, letting the anger that passed through him at the mention of his brother subside. Then he said, “They have great schools near Napa if you wanted to consider…I mean…”

  Dahlia smiled. “We have tons of things to consider, I know. But right now, let’s just deal with this.” She moved her face closer to his. “I love you,” she said before kissing him in a way that made him think his heart would lift right out of his chest.

  ** Brandon’s & Connor’s stories are also currently available! **

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  Author Bio

  Finding a lack of stories she’d like to read available, Rose decided to just start writing them.

  She has been writing from a very early age and is thrilled to have a platform that allows her to bring her tales to the public.

  Where to find Rose!!

  Website:

  http://rosefrancis.poisonarrowpublishing.com

  Blog:

  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7122175.Rose_Francis/blog

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  Sex, Lies, and Bondage Tape

  an erotic novella

  Saskia Walker

  First published in 2007

  This edition © 2013 Saskia Walker

  Cover by: Frauke Spanuth at Croco Designs.

  This book is for sale to adults only. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers.

  Please note: This novella originally appeared in the KINK anthology.

  Fitness instructor Kelly Burton is a woman on a mission, and this time it’s sneaking backstage at a rock concert to get super star Clayton Warren’s autograph for her friend. What she doesn’t factor in is becoming privy to a big media secret, nor being captured by a sexy security guy who sends her pulse racing.

  Backstage security man Tommy Samson’s specialty is sending rogue groupies on their way with a playful spank and a threat, but this woman is responding to his behavior in an entirely different way and very soon they’re locked in hands-on-combat of an intimate kind, kicking off a sequence of crazy sex games back and forth across London.

  When Kelly wants to track Tommy down, she has to resort to being a ‘groupie’ all over again, shanghaiing Clayton Warren and doing a deal over his big media secret to get hold of Tommy’s contact details. Kelly is a stubborn, independent woman who plays the men at their own games, but it only makes Tommy want more, and what Tommy wants…Tommy goes after.

  What people are saying about the novella:

  “Well, words practically escape me. SEX, LIES, AND BONDAGE TAPE is positively sizzling. Two hot bodies and some bondage tape certainly set an erotic tone that starts from the first page and doesn’t let up. Tommy and Kelly are both type-A people who go after what they want and, in this case, what they want is each other. Woe to anyone who stands in their way!”

  –Romance Reviews Today

  “The story sizzles from the minute the heroine meets the hero. The love scenes are intense, passionate and well crafted. I found I enjoyed the cat and mouse game between the lead characters, and the way Kelly finally got her man was inspired.”

  –Romance Divas

  “Ms. Walker is undoubtedly one of the queens of erotic romance. She writes steamy, sensual scenes with enough passion and uniqueness to scorch the pages. Her characters are multi-dimensional, with real fears, wants and needs. From the very first page, the story captivates, bringing readers fully into the rock concert setting and imbuing the atmosphere with that same level of sensual energy that lasts until the very end.”

  –Romance Junkies

  Chapter One

  The atmosphere in the a
uditorium was electric. Kelly Burton reveled in it, she was more than ready to rock some more. High on adrenaline-fueled energy, the crowd vibrated as one. It had been an outstanding concert, the last of a long European tour, and they still had more music to come.

  Kelly squeezed her friend Helen’s arm. “Ready for the final encore?”

  Helen nodded. “I hope he does Squandered. It’s my favorite.”

  Before Kelly had a chance to answer, the stage lights dipped, swung skyward, and then beamed back onto the stage, delivering a sequence of red and purple pools of light that synchronized to the beat of the drums. A cheer went up from the crowd as Clayton Warren—rock god of the moment—walked back on stage. He lifted his hands, acknowledging the cheers and the sound of feet thumping on the floor. He was a London man and this was a homecoming gig.

  “Oh, give me strength, he’s taken off his shirt,” Helen shouted over the noise, grabbing a quick photo on her phone. “Jojo is going to be so sorry she missed this.”

  Kelly nodded and chuckled, pushing her damp hair back from her forehead, jostling with the crowd who pressed up against them. The audience roared when Clayton picked up his guitar, showing their appreciation for the sexy man on stage. The crowd was mixed, from serious rock fans to lusting women of all ages. Squealing teens and mature housewives stood side-by –side, ogling him. Kelly couldn’t help admiring him too, even though she’d only come to the concert because her friend Jojo was having her leg pinned back together after a skiing accident. Jojo and Helen, her housemates, were the hardcore fans. It didn’t stop Kelly enjoying the music and appreciating a fine male body when she saw it, though. And it was fine.

  Lean but muscled, his torso glistened with sweat, his long, damp hair flashing out as he moved. He stroked one hand down the neck of his guitar in the most deliberately suggestive way, which drew another cheer from the audience. He grinned, white teeth gleaming. Clayton Warren was a true performer.

  The backing guitarist and bass player took their places. The drummer led them into the intro of the track, then Clayton let it rip. Running forward on the stage he dropped to his knees in the spotlight, his body arched back as he delivered the distinctive riff of Squandered, his top-selling single, still on the rock charts after four solid months.

  The crowd surged in unison, arms waving, bodies moving to the rhythm of the song. Kelly moved with them, her energy level soaring. The song was a real rock anthem, and although she was enjoying it, her mind was also operating on a different plane. After a few moments, she leaned over to Helen and spoke into her ear.

  “I’m going to go backstage.” She pointed over to a curtained passageway on the side of the stage, where a couple of security men stood watching the gig. “Going to try to get an autograph for Jojo.” She’d been turning the idea over in her mind during the second half of the concert and had decided to act on her plan.

  Helen shook her head but grinned. “You’re crazy. You’ll never get past security.”

  “You know me. Never say, never.” The two of them worked together running a health and fitness club, where Kelly was known as “the woman on a mission.”

  “I’ll meet you out front afterwards. Keep your phone switched on in case we can’t find each other.”

  Helen nodded.

  Kelly gave her two thumbs-up, and then ducked into the crowd. It was tightly packed and she had to squeeze and wheedle her way through it. More than ever she was glad of her skimpy halter-neck top. The auditorium was steaming and it was a genuine workout just being there.

  Once she reached the area where the crowd thinned out at the side of the venue, and people were resting up against the walls, she headed down towards the curtained entrance to the backstage area. She paused a few feet away, watching the stage with one eye and the security men with the other. There were two uniformed officials who looked like they worked for the venue, and with them, a third man. He was wearing jeans and a black leather jacket.

  The third man was built, at least as impressive as the two security guards, if not more so. Because Kelly worked in a gym she noticed these things. A fit man always inspired her interest. His dark blond hair made her want to run her fingers through it. It was thick and hung below his ears. One of the security guards said something to him and he laughed, moving briefly into the light. He had a great smile and for a moment she almost forgot her mission, but not quite. Jojo was sitting at home injured, moping into a glass of wine and playing her Clayton Warren CDs. The least Kelly could do was try to bring her a souvenir.

  She sidled along the wall, watching the curtain moving on the currents of air passing through the auditorium. When one of the security men turned to look in her direction, she leaned against the wall and clapped along to the music. When he glanced away, she darted to the near end of the curtain. Lifting it, she disappeared behind it.

  Her heart raced as she got her bearings. She’d made it backstage. At the end of a narrow corridor, a staircase led down. The dressing rooms had to be under the stage. There was nowhere else to go so this had to be the way. Elation hit her as she descended the stairs. She started mentally humming the theme to Mission Impossible.

  Glancing in both directions, she saw what looked like dressing rooms lined up to her right and darted that way, reading the numbers on the doors as she passed. Clayton would be designated Room One, surely? At the other end of the corridor, she saw another staircase. That had to be the way to the stage. Behind her, she heard voices.

  “Did you see someone make it through?” a voice shouted.

  Had one of the security men spotted her after all?

  She really oughtn’t to be down here, but an urge to live dangerously had her firmly in its grip. She hurried on, gratified to see the numbers descending as she passed the doors. The door to Room Two was ajar, voices and laughter emerging from inside. She slowed down and walked past, glancing in with a nonchalant smile. Two or three members of the opening band were in there, busy with the press and beer.

  When she got to the room marked One, she paused and put her ear to the door. All quiet. It could be the place, or it could be the manager’s office for all she knew. Footsteps echoed down the stairway behind her. Turning the handle, she stepped inside, trying to gauge whether it was Clayton’s dressing room. A rail of clothes stood in one corner. On the other side a dressing table was strewn with make-up equipment, glasses, and a half-empty bottle of champagne. The room smelled of expensive male cologne.

  Above her, the ceiling thumped with bass-driven rock. The encore was in its final throes. A second shout echoed down the corridor outside. Definitely security, but now that she was in here there was no going back—besides, she hadn’t come this far to miss her opportunity. Darting into the dark corner behind the clothes rail, she decided to hide until the security man was gone.

  The door opened. Peeking between the clothes on the rail, she saw that it was the attractive bloke in the leather jacket. He was scanned the room. He had to be a roadie, he knew his way around back here. Once again, she couldn’t help admiring him. He was striking in looks as well as physique.

  His glance zoomed back to where she stood. Pressing back into the darkness, she shut her eyes and held her breath. A moment later, she heard voices and footsteps echoing away. When she opened her eyes and exhaled, she saw that the door was still ajar. The music upstairs had stopped. Noise was gathering in the corridor outside. Her chance to get Clayton’s autograph and put a smile on Jojo’s face was on its way. When the door was pushed wide open and Clayton himself entered, her mood was triumphant.

  He paced across the room towards her hiding place, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he walked, obviously wired from his performance. His hair was pushed back over his head, damp and clinging to his skull, his leather pants molded to his warm body. She could see the sweat glistening on his naked torso. She bit her lip, smiling to herself—if Jojo could see him now she’d have an orgasm on the spot. He looked hot, although personally Kelly preferred men with more meat on their
bones.

  So far so good. She was in the right place to get an autograph, but she hadn’t envisaged being behind a clothes rail at this point. She was about to cough and emerge from the hiding place when people spilled into the room behind Clayton, a couple of the musicians and others, men and women. Oh, joy. She hadn’t figured there would be so many extras in the entourage. This could make getting Jojo’s autograph complicated, unless, of course, she could just merge in amongst them.

  One bloke seemed to be taking charge, pushing the small crowd back out into the corridor. “Listen up, everyone,” he shouted. “Clayton needs a little time to shower and change before we party.” A cheer went up when a party was mentioned. “Head upstairs to the hospitality suite and follow the corridor behind the stage. Give him ten minutes and he’ll be right there.”

  The man was tall, but lean like Clayton, his limber body perfectly outlined in faded jeans and a khaki-colored t-shirt. When he’d convinced all the hangers-on to get out, he shut the door and looked back over at Clayton. Clayton was still facing Kelly’s way but he was smiling, as if he knew what was going on behind him. “Nice job, Jay,” he commented.

  The other man walked over and stood close behind him. “That’s what I’m here for.”