“So you think I should back off?” I asked, incredulous. “After all you've pushed me toward in the past half-year?”
“I think you should work just as hard as you have every moment since they let you out of Leavenworth,” Patrick retorted, giving me a half-grin at the end. “Just make sure you're working on the right things, that's all.”
One of the company vice presidents came up, wishing us a happy holiday, and I used it as an opportunity to part ways with them. I'd come to admire Patrick, and while our relationship got off to a rocky start, we got along well enough. There was, of course, the unstated but obvious tension as his daughter let him go and became closer to me, but I think every man goes through that when he gets engaged.
I headed over to Abby and Brittany, who were laughing as Abby described in detail our new apartment. We'd moved in just after Thanksgiving, after the neighbors in the first apartment complex we'd tried had turned out to enjoy partying a bit too much for our tastes. “Yeah, I know it's still nowhere near what I had at home with you and Daddy, but it's ours,” Abby said as I approached. I figured she was telling Brittany about our upstairs neighbors, who had a slightly disturbing habit of turning their nightly yoga sessions from Iyengar to Tantric, if you know what I mean. Still, better than listening to Flo Rida all weekend long. “We figure it'll keep us going for a while though. At least until I finish my Masters.”
“You ladies make this party a lot better looking than any decoration or band could,” I greeted them as I came within greeting distance. Abby got up and we kissed, laying her head on my shoulder. “Hey, Abs. You miss me?”
“Not too much,” she teased me, rubbing my chest. “Just enough that I can't wait until tomorrow.”
“Oh, you can wait another few hours,” Brittany laughed, sipping at her champagne. “After all, it isn't like in my parents' day when the couple would have to spend every night apart until the wedding ceremony.”
“Good for us, then.” Abby laughed. She reached down to the table and took a sip of her ginger ale, something I'd noticed earlier. Abby had never been a big drinker, but then again, neither was I. I used to be, but I’d seen firsthand what nastiness alcoholics could do. In the apartment, we didn't have any alcohol at all other than a bottle of Malbec that we'd been given as a gift for moving in. “Say, babe, are you sure you'll be good for picking Shawnie up from the airport tomorrow?”
“Yeah, this is my last one,” I replied, taking the final sip and setting the glass down on the table. “I don't want to have my nuptials marred by a hangover or anything.”
Brittany smiled in approval and finished her glass of champagne as well. “A wise decision. Well, you two enjoy yourself. I need to powder my nose, as the saying goes.”
She left us, and I led Abby closer, away from the table, and took her out to the dance floor. The live band wasn't the best in town, but even a second-rate band in a city like Atlanta can beat the pants off anything a lot of other places can offer. We found an empty spot on the dance floor and I pulled her into my arms. “Think of it as practice for tomorrow.”
“You know, I think Brittany is expecting at least a little bit of Viking tomorrow with all of that Norse stuff you talk about,” Abby said as we danced. “She's going to be highly disappointed.”
“Well, I guess I could rip off my shirt, grease myself up, and try to wrestle a bear, but those are kind of hard to find this time of year,” I joked. “I guess she'll have to settle for the roasted meats and maybe a song or two. You know I just take it in stride anyway.”
“I know. It's why I love you so much,” Abby said. “Enjoying the party?”
“Better than listening to the Washingtons upstairs,” I replied. “Trying to watch The Charlie Brown Christmas Special while they were having sex was not the experience I was hoping for.”
“We've kind of given them a concert or two as well,” Abby reminded me. “Or did you forget Monday night?”
“How could I?” I chuckled. We turned on the floor, moving in gentle circles, not really following any one pattern but just moving together. “Hey, Abs, I don't want to pry, but you seem to be a bit off tonight. Worried about tomorrow?”
“No,” Abby replied. “I'm excited, yes, but not worried. Why?”
“I just noticed you're only hitting the ginger ale. You don't think we'll get too drunk and oversleep, do you?”
Abby leaned back, her honey blonde hair shimmering in the soft light, her blue eyes twinkling like twin sapphires, and laughed, long and loud. If it hadn't been a party, or if the music had been softer, she would have garnered a lot of attention, but as it was, she barely registered. When her laughter was over, she pulled my head down and kissed me. “I’m not worried about that at all,” she whispered in my ear after the kiss was broken. “I wanted to wait until we were alone tonight, but I have a late Christmas gift for you.”
“Oh? What's that?” I asked, flummoxed. We hadn't exchanged too many gifts, so a late one seemed strange.
“You get to find out in about nine months,” Abby whispered, pulling back to look me in the eyes. “Merry Christmas . . . Daddy.”
Shawnie’s book is Now Available! Read No Limits HERE.
Bought: Highest Bidder
By Lauren Landish & Willow Winters
Everything has a price … and I’m willing to pay.
I trust no one. I thrive with control and I’ve learned to be ruthless and coldhearted. A love life? I’m not interested.
But I still have desires.
That’s where Dahlia came in; my treasure. She had never been a submissive before and I was eager to train her.
When I saw her on stage at the auction, dressed in gold, I knew I had to have her.
She’s mine for an entire month. I own her. But one lie changed everything.
She’s going to pay for it. But I’m doing this for her own good. She needs this.
I’m going to make this right. I’m going to heal her.
If it’s the last thing I do.
*Bought is a full-length standalone romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
Prologue
Lucian
*Please note that this is a Dark Romance.
I slowly pace the room, letting the sound of my shoes clacking against the floor startle her. My eyes are on Dahlia, watching her every movement. Her breathing picks up as she realizes I’ve come back for her. With her blindfold on and her wrists and ankles tied to the bed while she lies on her belly, she’s at my complete mercy, and she knows it.
The sight of her bound and waiting for me is so tempting. I force my groan back.
Her pale, milky skin is on full display as she waits for me. I’ve left her like this deliberately, in this specific position. She knows now not to move, not to struggle. She knows to wait for me obediently, and what’s more, she enjoys it.
The wooden paddle gently grazes along her skin, leaving goosebumps down her thigh in its wake. They trail up the curve of her ass, and her shoulders rise as she sucks in a breath. Her body tenses and her lips part, spilling a soft moan. She knows what's coming.
She’s earned this.
She lied to me.
And she’s going to be punished.
She doesn’t know this is for her own good. She should, but she hasn’t realized it yet.
I’m only doing this for her. She needs this.
She needs to heal, and I know just how to help her. The paddle whips through the air and smacks her lush ass, leaving a bright red mark as she gasps, her hands gripping the binds at her wrists. I watch as her pussy clenches around nothing, making my dick that much harder.
Soon.
I barely maintain my control and gently knead her ass, soothing the pulsing pain I know she’s feeling. “Tell me why you lied to me, treasure,” I whisper at the shell of her ear, my lips barely touching her sensitive skin.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpers with lust. I don’t want her apology. I want her to realize what she’s done. I want to know why sh
e hid it from me all this time. She’ll learn she can’t lie to me. There’s no reason she should.
Smack! I bring the paddle down on the other cheek and her body jolts as a strangled cry leaves her lips, her pussy glistening with arousal.
“That’s not what I asked, treasure.” My tone is taunting. She needs to realize what I already know. She needs to admit it. To me, but mostly to herself.
I pull away from her, just for a moment, leaving her to writhe on the bed from the sting of the paddle.
I didn’t anticipate our relationship reaching this point.
In the beginning, I thought this would be fun. Just a form of stress relief for me.
But things changed.
I bought her at auction, and now she can’t leave. She’s mine for an entire month. But the days have flown by, and the contract is almost over.
I need more time.
I’m going to make this right. I’m going to heal my treasure.
If it’s the last thing I do, I'll give her what she needs. What we both need.
She parts those beautiful lips, and hope blooms in my chest.
Say it, tell me what you desperately need to say.
But her mouth closes, and she shifts slightly on the sheets before stilling and waiting patiently for more.
I pull my arm back and steady myself.
Soon, she’ll realize it. My broken treasure. Soon she’ll be healed, but that won’t be enough for me anymore. I want more.
Smack!
Chapter 1
Lucian - A few weeks prior...
I stare at my jacket, laying it over the arm of the tufted leather chair in the corner of my office. I need to leave this fucking building and get home, but I don’t fucking want to. It’s not like I have anything waiting for me. Nothing to do but more work.
I’ve spent a fortune on my home. I built it from the ground up, painstakingly choosing every piece of hardware and meticulously designing each room myself. But I couldn’t give a damn if I go back there anymore.
It’s cold and lifeless. Empty.
My brow furrows, and a frustrated sigh leaves my lips. I could keep working. There’s always more work waiting.
I clench my jaw and type the password to unlock my computer, the gentle tapping of the keys soothing me. It’s a comforting sound. But only for a moment.
As the screen lights up and I glance at the window of emails left on the desktop, I seethe and remember why I’m in such a horrible fucking mood. My eyes focus on the lawyer’s name attached to the most recent email. This is why I’m so damn pissed and aggravated.
I’m fucking tired of leeches always suing me. Trying to take a piece of me they haven’t earned. Most of the lawsuits don’t bother me. It comes with the territory. But my family, and my ex-wife? It fucking shreds me, and I hate that I ever felt anything for them. At some point in time I had feelings for them, emotions I’ve long since grown cold to.
Now there’s only anger.
I steady myself, knowing they’ve tried this before and failed. They’ll keep trying, and it’s aggravating, but I refuse to give them anything. I’ve learned my lesson the hard way. I know better now.
My eyes widen as a new email pops up.
From Club X.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen an email from Madam Lynn. And an even longer time since I’ve set foot into the club. The pad of my thumb rubs along the tips of both my middle finger and forefinger, itching to see what’s inside.
Images flash before my eyes, and I can practically hear the soft sounds of the whip smacking against flesh and a moan forced from the Submissive’s lips. Never to hurt, only for pleasure. Whips aren’t my tool of choice, nor what I've been known for in the past. But nonetheless, the memory kicks the corners of my lips up into a grin. I tap my fingers on the desk, debating on opening the message before moving the mouse over to the email and clicking on it out of curiosity.
Check your mail, sir.
I huff a laugh at the message and immediately hit the intercom button on my desktop phone for my secretary. It’s not yet five, so she better fucking be at her desk still.
“Yes, Mr. Stone?” she responds, and her voice comes through with a sweet and casual air.
“Could you bring me my mail, please?” Although it’s poised as a question, it isn't one. There’s only one correct response, and she knows that.
There’s no hesitation as Linda says, “Of course.” Her voice is slightly raspy. Linda’s old, to put it bluntly; she should retire.
If I was her I would, rather than putting up with my arrogant ass.
I’m happy she hasn’t though. Every year I pay her more money to stay. A hefty raise, a gift here and there. It keeps her happy. Finding a good secretary is more work than it’s worth. It was a pain in my ass when I started. Linda’s the first I’ve been able to keep for more than two months and now that she knows what she’s doing, with more than four years of working for me, I have no intention of finding a new secretary. So when I make a request, I say please.
I go through the emails remaining in my inbox, waiting impatiently for her soft knock on the door to my office. Usually I don’t bother with the paper mail. Just like most of these fucking emails, they're junk. She knows what to do with them. So I leave it to her to organize and sift through it daily. She hands over the personal mail at her discretion, usually waiting until the end of the week to bring it all by, but this particular one I want right now. I’m not interested in waiting.
The light knocking at the door echoes in the small room, and I look at the clock. It's only three minutes later. Not bad, Linda.
“Come in,” I call out and she does so quickly, closing the door behind her. She walks straight to my desk, not wasting any time. Her pink tweed skirt suit looks rather expensive. It's a Chanel, if I’m correct. I see she’s putting that last bonus to good use.
“This is from today,” she says, placing a compact stack in front of me, “and this-”
I stop her, waving my hand and pulling out the small, square, deep red envelope. “No need.”
She collects the remaining mail, tapping it lightly on the desk to line everything up together and asks, “Anything else, sir?”
The use of sir catches me off guard, and for a moment I wonder if she knows who the sender of this particular piece of mail is, but her face is passive. And it isn’t the first time she’s called me sir. Most of my employees do. Linda just happens to use it less often than most.
I shake my head and say, “That’s all.” The lines around her eyes are soft, and her lips hold the faintest form of a smile. Linda’s always smiling despite having to deal with me. She takes my hot temper in stride. That’s one of the reasons I’m eager for her to stay.
She nods her head before turning on her heels. I wait until she's gone to open the envelope.
I watch her leave and listen to the door click shut, leaving me in my spacious office alone and in solitude. Just the way I prefer it.
I finally open the envelope with the letter opener on my desk, avoiding the black wax seal embossed with a bold X entirely.
The thick cream parchment slips out easily from the elegant envelope, and the handwritten message is in Madam Lynn’s beautiful penmanship. If nothing else, I admire her flair.
I can practically hear her sultry voice whispering in my ear as I read the sophisticated script.
Dear Sir,
An auction is to be held and I personally wanted to invite you, Lucian. It’s been far too long, and I know you’re in need. Renew your membership first.
I’ll see you soon,
L
An asymmetric smile plays on my lips as I take in her message. I may be a Sir, but she is certainly a Madam. I sit back in my leather desk chair and tap the parchment against the desk as I debate on whether or not I should attend.
It’s been nearly a year since I’ve been to Club X. Even longer since I’ve had a Submissive, and only one of those was purchased at one of the monthly auctions.
She lasted the longest, but only because she was required to.
It would be a nice distraction from the mundane. I muse, staring absently at the back wall lined with black and white sketches from an up-and-coming artist.
Before I can decide, my desk phone rings, bringing me back to the present. I lean forward with annoyance and answer it.
“Stone,” I answer.
“Lucian,” my sister’s voice comes through the line. It’s bright and cheery, everything my younger sister embodies. Bubbly is what she likes to be called.
But her happiness doesn’t rub off on me. Not after reading the fucking emails from our parents’ lawyer. I doubt she knows, and it’s not her fault.
She reminds me of them, though. I wish it wasn’t like this. I wish I could separate the two, but I can’t. They manipulate her, and it’s only a matter of time before they’ll come up in conversation. Shit, our parents could be why she’s calling now.
“Anna, how are you?” I ask her casually. I trace my finger along the wax seal of the envelope as I listen.
“I’ve been good, but I’ve been missing you...” she trails off as her voice goes distant. I don’t respond. I don’t care to admit my feelings either way. Yes, there’s a bit of pain from losing contact with my sister, but she chooses to keep in touch with them. She made that decision. And I refuse to have any contact with them.
Heartstopper Page 42