by Shelly Bell
FALLING HARD
A New Adult Anthology
by
Shelly Bell
M.K. Schiller
Aliza Mann
Sage Spelling
Heather Novak
Table of Contents
Foreword
Forbidden by Shelly Bell
Tin Man’s Dance by M.K. Schiller
Dark Hearts by Aliza Mann
High Stakes by Sage Spelling
Hunting Witch Hazel by Heather Novak
The Bridge Enchantment Spell
Only my twin would want a happiness enchantment placed on Hayvenwood University’s scariest bridge for her birthday. I set the vials down on the stone wall of the Pont d’Amour and turned toward my sister, Romi. “I can’t believe that this is what you want. You sure you’re okay with getting your present two months early?”
Between the possibility of destroying the bridge and overly nosy neighbors returning from summer vacation, it was just too risky to do the spell once school started. Luckily, classes didn’t start until next week and this place was practically a ghost town. Romi swung her legs over the edge of the bridge and stared at the completely black sky.
Magic during a full moon was too dangerous, despite the stories. I preferred to use a new moon. Especially for spells I barely had enough power to cast.
“Definitely. Don’t you think it’s romantic to make the legend true? ‘Que les âmes perdues contemplant ce pont fassent leur vœu, à ce moment là seulement le chemin vers l'amour véritable s'ouvrira à eux.’ All of the feels!”
I raised my eyebrow at her. “Romi. Do I look like I speak French? I barely speak Spanish after four years.”
She huffed on an exaggerated eye roll. “’When lost souls look upon the bridge and make a wish, they will find their true path to love.’”
I made a gagging sound. “Barf. That’s so gross.”
“How do you not know the legend?”
“How do you think I’m a romantic person?”
“Live a little, Zee! I can’t do magic anymore. It’s fun to watch you! All I’ve got left is haunting French classes.” She waved her hand at me and sighed. She was remarkably solid tonight for being a ghost. “Vicarious living and all that.”
I set my battery powered lantern on the cobblestone wall and pulled a copper bowl from my bag. It took all my effort to not roll my eyes.
The chances of this spell working at all were the same as me winning a car on “The Price is Right”, but I was happy to go through the motions for my sister. After all, it was our twenty-first birthday this year, and she tragically couldn’t drink. “Well, happy early birthday,” I smiled.
Her smile practically split her face in half as she kicked her feet. “Stop stalling, Zee!”
“You’re sure?” I triple checked as I opened my journal to the spell.
“Hazel Evanora. When have I ever been not sure about what I want? What else can you possibly give me? While I’d love jewelry...” she shrugged one shoulder, “can’t really wear it.”
My breath caught as I remembered what we both tried to forget. She was more solid tonight than usual, and I was comforted by the thought. I blew out my sadness and proceeded to pour the elixirs into the bowl, combining them in the correct order.
“Here where darkness lies, let there be light. Bring to all hearts joy instead of fright. Let two lonely souls join as one. Let love reign, warm as the summer sun.” I swirled the ingredients together in the bowl and set it down. Then I picked up my purple candle and waved my hand to light the wick. I touched the flame to the liquid, which instantly burst into green and blue fire.
“Eliminate pain. Bring peace and love instead of shame. Fates, I make this request out of love, for love. In honor of Rosemary Evanora’s twenty-first birthday.”
I tilted the candle to the side and allowed the wax to drip down, then held the candle in the pile of wax until it cooled enough to hold itself upright. With practiced hands, I dipped the feather of an adult raven into the now smoking bowl and began sprinkling the mixture up and down the bridge.
Once I finished the methodical process, I poured the remaining liquid along both entranceways. With a bow, I raised the bowl and feather above my head. “Fates, we thank you for bestowing your attention on us.”
I looked over at Romi, who was clapping her hands and giggling. “Thank you, favorite sister in the whole wide world!”
I laughed. “Only sister.” I picked up my bag and put the bowl and feather inside, then nodded toward the candle. “Make a wish.”
She flashed me a smile and turned her body so she was cross-legged before the candle. “Together, on the count of three. One...two...three.”
We blew the candle out. The spell was set.
FORBIDDEN: FRESHMAN YEAR
(An Erotic Suspense Novella)
By Shelly Bell
Rules are meant to be broken…
For one night, Tristan Kelley taught the woman he only knew as Angel to surrender to all her wicked desires. Now his Angel has a name—Isabella Lawson—and he’s not only her professor but her boss. Kisses are forbidden. Touches are forbidden. And fucking her until neither one of them can walk is most definitely forbidden. Of course, he’s never been one to play by the rules.
But the consequences can be deadly…
When Isabella convinced her cousin to take her to her first BDSM party, she hadn’t intended on meeting someone like Tristan—and she certainly hadn’t intended on ever seeing him again. Now she not only sees him in class three days a week, she shares a cramped office with him every afternoon…and it’s becoming harder and harder to resist the temptation. But Tristan Kelley is the least of her problems. Because her dark past is coming for her. And this time...
She might not survive.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
When I met Meghan, Aliza, Sage and Heather, I never could’ve imagined how close we would become, and how much I would grow to rely on them for everything from professional advice to makeovers. You gals are my touchstones, and I’m so grateful to have you in my life.
Thank you to my editor, Shauna Allen, who never fails to amaze me with her talent of making my books shine.
Thanks to the awesome Barclay Publicity team, especially Danielle and Nicole, who have made life so much easier!
Thank you to all the bloggers, readers, and members of the Shelly Bell’s Insiders Facebook Group who take the time to read my books. I couldn’t do this without you!
DEDICATION
To my husband who encourages me to take chances and follow my dreams.
Chapter 1
If there ever was an unassuming location for a sex party, the quaint Tudor-style house in front of her definitely fit the bill. For Pete’s sake, there were children’s bicycles on the neighbor’s lawn.
Her cousin, Dreama, must have given her the wrong address.
Isabella rifled through her purse, cursing the starless night and wishing for the umpteenth time that someone would invent a purse that lit up when you opened it. After digging her way to the bottom, she finally located her cell. A black screen. Of course it was dead. She leaned on her grandfather’s old Buick and growled in frustration. Would anything go right tonight?
Tonight’s event was going to be her first sex party. And probably her last. But since Isabella couldn’t call Dreama for the right address, her plans to screw were, well . . . screwed.
“What are you wearing?”
Startled, Isabella spun and pressed a palm to her chest as if trying to keep her racing heart from flying out.
Dreama blew a ring of smoke into the humid air then took another puff of her cigarette.
Isabella glanced down at her outfit. “What I’ve worn all summer.” Even she could admit that black stret
ch pants and a pink T-shirt with her family bakery’s logo probably wasn’t standard sex party wear.
“That isn’t what I meant. I’m wondering why the hell you’re still wearing it.”
Fanning away the smoke, Isabella arched a brow. “I came straight from work. I didn’t have time to change. Not to mention, everything I own is in boxes.” After the incident with Tony last year, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever feel safe living in this town again, and she had packed up the majority of her clothes and mementos. “And I wasn’t about to ask Mom to borrow some of her clothes. She would’ve grilled me for information until I told her the truth.” She plucked the cigarette from her cousin’s mouth, dropped it on the concrete, and ground it out with her shoe. “Is that what you wanted? You want me to tell your Aunt that you’re taking me to my first sex party?”
Dreama shook her head, a little laugh escaping her lips. “It’s not a sex party. It’s a play party.”
Isabella raised a brow. “There’s a difference?”
“Yes. No one has sex at these things.”
“You didn’t tell me that.” What was the point of being here then? She could’ve not had sex anywhere. The idea of coming to this thing was to experience BDSM in a relatively safe environment. If the party wound her up, how would she get any relief? She’d already packed away her vibrator.
“Sure I did.”
Isabella placed a hand on her hip. “No, I think I’d remember a detail like not getting laid at a sex party.”
“Play party,” Dreama repeated. “There’s no penetrative sex.”
“Penetrative. Is there any other kind?” Isabella’s confusion cleared as her cousin lewdly wiggled her tongue at her. “Oh, you mean oral.”
Dreama grabbed her hand. “Are you sure you really want to be here? You’re so innocent.”
Maybe before last year she was, but not any longer. She’d always thought innocence referred to the status of your virginity. How wrong she’d been. Innocence was a state of mind, and she’d lost hers the hard way. “I am not.”
Her cousin’s eyes clouded over with sympathy. “No, I suppose you’re not.” She clutched Isabella by the shoulders, concern etched on her face. “Are you ready to go in and get a firsthand look, or would you rather go get a drink somewhere? I’m good either way.”
When Tony had gone off the deep end, Dreama had been the first one in her close-knit family to realize something wasn’t right. Everything had spiraled out of control so quickly, Isabella hadn’t known what to do. She’d always told herself she’d never allow a man to hit her, but by the time Dreama had confronted her about her explosive relationship with Tony, it was too late.
She had officially become a statistic.
“Isn’t your Dom in there waiting for you?” Isabella asked.
Dreama’s lips tilted up in a smile. “Master Jamie is inside, but he’ll understand if I go get a drink with you. He knows you and I won’t get to see each other for a while.”
“I want to go inside,” she said. And she did, despite her racing heart and her sweaty palms. “I need to do it. You know I do.”
After almost dying at the hands of her mentally ill ex-boyfriend at the end of her senior year of high school, Isabella had lost her ability to trust anyone, especially herself. As a result, instead of having gone away to college as planned, she’d allowed her parents to convince her to stay at home and work in their bakery full-time. Her life in limbo, she’d filled her days at the bakery and her nights either in therapy or at home, hiding away in her bedroom.
Everything changed the night she’d hung out at Dreama’s and stumbled upon her cousin’s huge collection of BDSM books.
After a long conversation with her cousin, she realized she wanted to learn more about it and borrowed a few of the books. Something about the lifestyle resonated with her. How many times had she thought she was a freak for wanting Tony to tie her up or get a little rough during sex? Girls her age were supposed to want sweet kisses and compliments, not rough hands and dirty talk. Unfortunately, Tony only wanted to get rough outside the bedroom.
She’d spent the following six months researching BDSM and discussing it with her therapist. At first, she hadn’t understood how she could want to be dominated or why she craved pain when she’d been abused by Tony. Shouldn’t that have turned her off of those yearnings? Did she want it because of the abuse? Had he abused her because of her desires? For weeks, she’d walked around filled with shame and guilt. That changed once her therapist helped her understand that her sexual inclinations had not caused the abuse, and that BDSM required those participating to adhere to the tenet of “safe, sane, and consensual.” What Tony had done to her had not been safe, sane, or consensual.
Once she’d accepted that, she started attending a local BDSM group’s introductory class, and now she was finally ready to participate. Dreama had assured her that she knew all of the Doms at the party, and with the rules in place, she’d be perfectly safe.
In Isabella’s opinion, giving up her power to a Dom tonight would help her reclaim control over her life. This time, she would have control of the pain and the pleasure. Tonight, she’d take back what she’d lost and become whole again. And damn it, if it went as she suspected it would, and she got off on being beaten by a stranger, then she’d accept that her sexuality was different. But it was hers and she’d own it. Then she’d box it away for a few years until she had time for a permanent Dom/sub relationship.
This was her last chance to experience these things, because tomorrow, she was leaving for her freshman year at Hayvenwood University, and with Tony being released from the mental hospital next week, she wasn’t planning on returning to her hometown anytime soon.
For the last two weeks, she’d received daily flower deliveries, as well as letters in the mail, and although they were sent anonymously, she knew they were from him. Unfortunately, the hospital administrators swore he didn’t have the means, making it impossible to prove he’d violated the restraining order.
Dreama released her hold on her. “Yes, I know all the reasons you need to do this, but once you get a taste, you may develop a particular palate. Life will become a lot more complicated.”
“More complicated than it already is?” Isabella shrugged. Nothing could top the complications of the last year. Besides, once she got to school, she’d spend every minute either studying or working. After tonight, her particular “palate” would have to wait four years for another taste. “I don’t think that’s possible, but thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure to take that into consideration.”
Scrutinizing her, Dreama pursed her lips. “Before we go in, we need to do something about your outfit.”
Spoken like a true fashion maven. Dreama had taken over her father’s bar when he’d passed away a few years ago, but she still designed clothes in her spare time. She swore one day she’d run her own fashion line. Tonight, Dreama was wearing one of her own creations, a black bustier with metallic blue ribbons and an attached lace skirt.
But even with her skills, Isabella’s outfit was hopeless.
Isabella pulled her shirt taut, showing off the logo for her family’s bakery. “Unless you have something in your car, I think I’m stuck with what I’m wearing.”
Dreama scanned her up and down, smiling. “We’ll make it work. Slide your arms out of the sleeves.” When Isabella did what she was told, Dreama folded and tucked the sleeves into the opening at her neck. “Now take off your pants.”
She raised a brow. “When I thought about attending my first play party, somehow it wasn’t you I pictured ordering me to remove my clothes.” Giggling, she shimmied out of her black pants and twirled around wearing nothing but a shirt made into a dress and white lace boy shorts. “What do you think?”
Her cousin whistled. “You look hot.”
She laughed as she picked up her pants and tossed them into the backseat of her car before locking it. “I look like a stripper.”
“You’ll fit right in.” Dr
eama winked and threw her arm around Isabella’s shoulders, leading her to the front door. “Ready to play, bitch?”
Play. Such an innocuous word for such decadence. But was she ready to become part of it?
With a smile, she turned to her cousin. “Hell, yeah.”
***
With his dungeon gear bag slung over his shoulder, Tristan sidestepped Yvette, the blonde sub headed his way, and made a beeline for the exit. There was no one worth staying for, and while his dick hadn’t seen much action lately, other than some lube and his palm, nothing had raised his interest tonight.
“Leaving already?” asked the amused voice from behind him.
Only a few feet from the door, he pivoted toward his best friend and business partner, Ryder. “I’ve got some stuff to get done before the move upstate.”
Debating whether he was making the right decision, he’d put off packing until the very last minute, but now that he had finalized his contract with the university, there was no changing his mind.
“I call bullshit, Tristan. What’s the real reason?”
He scrubbed a hand over the two-day-old stubble on his cheek. “I meet the same single women at every play party, and at one time or another, each has expressed an interest in becoming my permanent sub. Why can’t I find someone who just wants a night or two of kinky fucking without expecting more?”
At twenty-eight-years-old, he wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship, vanilla or otherwise. Every sub he’d played with this year had thought she could tame him, but he’d done the whole commitment deal once with disastrous results. No way would he go down that road again.
“Don’t look at me. I’m with you.” Ryder grinned. “At least I don’t have to worry about that with Maggie. Speaking of which, I’d be happy to tag team her with you. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”
Ryder had an even bigger aversion to commitment than he did, never fucking the same sub twice unless she was already in a committed relationship with someone else. Someday, Ryder would meet a woman who would knock him on his ass, and when that happened, Tristan was going to make sure he had a front row seat.