Pleasure Trap
Madison Blake
Jobless and about to be homeless, Raisa Sheldon is captivated by a glittering diamond star. When she touches it, she’s transported to a dazzling palace owned by two amazing—and gorgeous—men.
Sex with her is the only cure for the potentially fatal disease that afflicts them both. She wields the power of life and death over them, but it was nothing compared to their ability to provide her with pleasure beyond her wildest imagining as the days and nights blend into one long, orgasmic delight. When one shocking revelation rocks the axis of her world, the palace becomes a trap from which she has no wish to escape.
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Pleasure Trap
ISBN 9781419925436
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Pleasure Trap Copyright © 2010 Madison Blake
Edited by Meghan Conrad
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication March 2010
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
PLEASURE TRAP
Madison Blake
Dedication
To my wonderful editor, Meghan Conrad, who made this story better, even if I did cry over the edits. Thank you!
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Energizer: Eveready Battery Company, Inc.
Madison Blake
Chapter One
Damaon closed his eyes and shuddered, knowing he’d reached his limits. Every day, he’d been sliding closer and closer to the edge, but he always had himself in control. This time, he was hanging on by a thread. A very slim thread. It wouldn’t take much to send him over.
The need to lash out at the errant worker surged through him and his mouth worked as he stared at the diamond figure standing passively in front of him. Should he let loose a scalding torrent of words, the inanimate form wouldn’t understand him unless the corresponding stimulus and reaction had been programmed into him. Even so, abusing his servants in that way didn’t appeal to him. With the disease trying to overpower him, Damaon had to clench his teeth to prevent the words from slipping out. Hell’s gems, it was probably his fault in the first place for not encoding this particular worker with the proper instructions for gem harvest. He made an abrupt motion and rushed away from the fields, the hot sun beating down on his back. He headed in a beeline for the glistening palace looming in the distance.
He needed his mate.
The door to the library where Adamas was doing his research banged open. He looked up, startled, to see his mate stalking into the room, his jaw locked tight. Something was wrong.
Adamas placed a marker on the book, then stood up and hurried toward his lover.
“Damaon, what’s the matter?”
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Damaon pressed a hard kiss on his lips and, with his tongue, marauded his way into Adamas’ mouth. Before Adamas could even register the pleasure of having his mate’s hands and mouth on him, Damaon was spinning away and storming past him further into the room. He tracked mud all over the polished multifaceted tile floors and kicked off his shoes. One hit the wall and the other the back of an armchair. Adamas’ eyes narrowed. He remembered Damaon acting in much the same way years ago. Hell’s gems, had it been fifty years? Slowly, he went toward the door and closed it. “Damaon, shikima, come here. You need a hug very badly, I can tell.”
Damaon stopped in the middle of the room as though electrified and his shoulders slumped. His head drooped, then he sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I’m behaving like a ten-year-old again, aren’t I?”
“Yes, but I daresay in another six months or so, there will be two recalcitrant boys in the palace instead of one.” Adamas embraced Damaon from behind, enjoying the sensation of his mate’s hard body, warmed from working outside all day. Damaon always smelled like the sun and the land combined and the heady scent intoxicated Adamas. There was something so sexy about a man who loved to work the fields.
“What is it this time?”
“One of the workers mangled the diamond crop in the south sector during harvest and hid it from us. I wanted to recall the products, but it was already too late—they had already been scattered on Earth.” Damaon kicked the nearest couch he could reach without being released from Adamas’ arms, a sign that he was still angry about the unnecessary waste. However, Adamas was asking about something more than the destroyed crops and Damaon knew it. The fact that he avoided talking about the real problem told Adamas a lot. “Hell’s gems, Adamas. Did Orin ever tell you if he had the same problems we do with our workers?”
“Sh.” Adamas kissed Damaon’s nape and sucked the sensitive skin, making his lover moan. “I believe all the immortals encounter the same problem, one time or the other.” His hands slipped under Damaon’s work shirt and caressed the taut flesh of his 7
Madison Blake
chest. “Empty your mind of everything. Relax and enjoy this.” His tongue stroked the outer shell of Damaon’s ear, then plunged in for a probe before he sucked on the lobe. Damaon’s knees buckled, taking Adamas down with him.
Damaon turned when his knees touched the ground and their mouths met with fierce gentleness and fiercer hunger, tongues dueling for supremacy and teeth biting down on soft flesh. Damaon made a sound of triumph as he drew blood, then swiped his tongue repeatedly over the cut lip in apology. Adamas kissed him back with equal ferocity and sucked his lover’s lower lip in response, then engaged him in a torrid, open-mouthed kiss.
Without pausing a beat, he ripped the buttons from the work shirt and shoved the offending garment off Damaon. He ran his hands over his mate’s strong, heated back, admiring the smooth, satiny texture of his skin and the rippling muscles that were gained from working the land. Adamas had meant to comfort his lover, but it was turning into something different, something exhilarating, especially as he was caught up in his own needs. “You’re like drug in my veins.” He nipped Damaon’s skin at the jaw. “A sweet, wondrous drug. I can’t get enough of you.”
“I’m here,” Damaon growled. “Take me.”
Adamas’ mouth trailed down the solid column of Damaon’s throat, then he peppered his lover’s shoulders with a shower of biting kisses. Damaon’s skin was a golden bronze from working outside under the sun and his broad muscled chest meant there was more skin to touch and taste. Adamas savored each patch of skin with slow thoroughness, licking the sweat from his flesh and enjoying the sounds of Damaon’s harsh groans and incomprehensible shouts. His arousal notch
ed a level higher when Damaon trembled from the teasing laps and caresses on his nipples. Goddess be merciful. Adamas shifted to ease his hardening cock within his trousers. He didn’t know how long he could last before he burst from the pressure, and Damaon had yet to touch him.
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Adamas closed his eyes as he sucked on one hard bud, moaning at the flare of lust when Damaon cupped his buttocks through the cloth and squeezed with slow rhythmic clasps. Unable to help himself, he ground his hips against Damaon, seeking to ease his aching shaft, only to discover that the action did nothing but fuel his desire. Under his fingers, Adamas noted Damaon’s heart beating in a fast, irregular rhythm. His breathing grew choppy. Frustration and excitement made him bite down on the turgid nipple, causing Damaon to cry out.
Soothing the hurt nipple with his tongue, Adamas’ hands trailed south to ease his mate out of his trousers and underpants. Damaon groaned and plowed his hands into Adamas’ thick hair. Adamas breathed in Damaon’s aroma—a combination of his own unique scent, the warmth of the sun and the earthy fragrance of the diamond fields—
and sucked harder when his hand closed around Damaon’s thick, throbbing cock. His rigid shaft pulsed with life and power, hardening further when Adamas squeezed and rubbed. His own cock grew in response.
“Adamas, my love, my cock wants to be in you.”
The words excited him, no matter that they had been lovers for several centuries. Desire lanced his spine, making him tremble, and he shoved down his own trousers with shaking fingers. He surged back up and their mouths met in a ravenous kiss as their cocks crossed and caressed and stroked against each other, the friction causing them to cream with arousal. Damaon’s hands roamed his back in broad, loving sweeps.
“Damaon, Damaon,” Adamas breathed against his neck, “I want you. Take me.”
Damaon positioned him, pushing his head down onto the floor and his butt up in the air. Adamas quivered with anticipation, his anus already widening for Damaon’s entry. He sighed with pleasure when Damaon’s cock breached the tight ring of muscles, then relaxed even more so that his mate could push his lubricated cock in. He wanted it all—the entire bruising length of it. He wanted the wondrous pain and the ecstatic pleasure. He wanted everything.
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Inch by inch, Damaon entered him. Adamas gritted his teeth at the pain-pleasure. He was so hard by now his cock strained against his stomach.
“Have you been good today, Adamas?” Damaon cooed above him. He withdrew the few inches that he had worked in, then thrust, withdrew and thrust, over and over.
“Hell’s gems, Damaon, just seat yourself within me! I’m aching so fucking— Ah!”
Damaon had grasped his cock and was rubbing along its length in the same rhythm that he’d set with his cock. As usual, Damaon ignored his demands.
“I’m where I want to be.”
Adamas could almost see him grinning with wicked intent. He sighed with relief that Damaon’s condition hadn’t yet caused him to degenerate into a harsh, savage cruelty that would have made him rejoice in reducing Adamas into a mass of aching, excruciating need. The torture would go on for hours on end, with no hope of relief in sight, until Damaon couldn’t ignore the urgent call of his body.
“I want to take my time,” Damaon said through gritted teeth as he continued his infuriatingly slow rhythm, “so I can do this longer. Do you feel how much I love you?”
“Yes,” Adamas answered, his breath ragged. It was there in the firm bite of Damaon’s fingers in his waist, in his labored breathing, in the solid, stroking caresses of his cock. He loved Damaon too, loved him for five hundred years and beyond, and he hoped for more years in which to love him. The day they’d been gifted with the shared mantle of the Diamond Gem Immortal was the most blessed day of their lives. “Fuck me harder, Damaon, and take me. Take everything that I am, my love, my life…
Everything is yours.”
Damaon didn’t answer, but he made an anguished, guttural sound and his unhurried plunges changed speed. His thrusts were imbued with a desperate hunger, a searing possession, and his fingers dug deep into Adamas’ flesh. The fierce roar of a menacing predator rose from deep within Adamas and he met his lover’s ruthless drives with brutal upstrokes of his own hips, the muscles of his anus clinging tighter around Damaon’s cock.
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They exploded with scintillating brilliance. As Damaon released into him, Adamas gave his own aching cock a swift hard stroke and he released onto his stomach, the sharp pleasure washing over him in a giddy, overwhelming wave. Making love with Damaon just got better and better. What they said about practice was true. After more five centuries of making love, they’d reached the zenith of perfection. Almost.
Damaon withdrew from him and, turning around so that his back was on the carpeted floor of the library, Adamas drew him close. Damaon kissed him with heartwrenching gentleness, as though atoning for his earlier roughness. Adamas kissed back with all the love in his heart, telling Damaon there was nothing to forgive. He rolled them over until Damaon was beneath him, breathing hard. Adamas lifted his head and searched his lover’s silver eyes. He didn’t know how long he stayed in that position, brushing back Damaon’s damp hair from his brow while they stared at each other, each unwilling to voice the thought in his head.
The time had come upon them again.
Adamas pressed a gentle kiss on the wide forehead. “Sleep, my love. I’ll go check on the calling star. I hope it’s grown enough to send.”
* * * * *
The few items of her things that hadn’t been sold had all been moved into storage the previous day. There was really nothing else to do but to hand the key over to the real estate agent, though for some reason, Raisa Sheldon was loath to do so. Maybe because she’d lived here all her life and had a lot of happy memories. Well, except for the last few years.
But there was nothing she could’ve done.
When her mother had died of breast cancer two years ago, her father had lost his will to live. Never really healthy to begin with, his body had deteriorated, though the doctors couldn’t find the cause. He’d uttered his final sigh in his sleep about six months 11
Madison Blake
ago and Raisa could’ve sworn she saw a hint of a smile on his lips. Maybe the ghost of her mother had come to fetch him. Raisa didn’t know, but wherever they were, she hoped they were happy together. Just when she thought the worse was over, the global recession finally caught up with the firm she worked for and her role was declared redundant. Faced with the huge medical bills, she had no choice but to sell the house she had once thought she would raise her children and grow old in. In a world where giant, historic financial institutions could topple overnight, nothing was certain any longer.
The yearning for one final look at the home she’d loved—though the rooms had been stripped bare—filled her and she decided to make a last goodbye. If she were fanciful, she’d think the house wanted to say a farewell of its own. She moved from room to room, immersed in the memories. Here was where they’d sat together as a family, watching the football games that her father loved, or the sitcoms that always had her mother in stitches. There where the piano used to be, where she’d spent a great many hours practicing, but still falling short of her instructor’s expectations. Her father in his den, working on balancing his checkbook. The kitchen, where her mother had created some of the most sumptuous cakes Raisa had ever tasted. She could smell the fragrance of cinnamon and butter, taste the freshness of nuts and fruits.
Images crowded her mind, pierced with the poignant, bittersweet joy of happy times gone by.
Her bedroom, where she’d grown up from a young girl into the woman she was now. The décor had changed over the years, reflecting her tastes and moods. Now its walls sported a faded yellow, the color strong in places where it had been hidden from the sun by the furniture. Her parents’ bedroom, where her fa
ther had spent too much time, first taking care of her mother, then he himself, lying alone in the big bed, thin and wasted.
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Tears fell from Raisa’s eyes, grief overwhelming her. She sat down on the steps to the attic and cried—for her parents, for herself, for the fact that she was now alone in the world, with no job, no place to stay and very little savings in the bank. When it seemed there were no more tears left for her to shed, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, stood up and squared her shoulders.
Her little bout of self-pity over, she moved to go and get on with the rest of her life, starting with perusing the recruitment ads in today’s papers. She could print her resume in the internet café near the budget hotel where she’d rented a room for the next few nights.
A tug on her senses stopped her in mid-step. The attic was calling to her, reminding her that she hadn’t visited it yet. There was really nothing to see in there, not even memories to lure her, for it had merely served as storage for unwanted things. But still…
An urgent, insistent pull from above decided her.
The goodbye wouldn’t be complete, she supposed, until she’d seen every room, every nook and cranny one last time. She turned and moved up the stairs. Anyway, she needed to check if she had indeed cleared everything out. One slight push of her hand and the attic door swung open to reveal the small, unevenly shaped room. The late afternoon sunlight filtered in through the tiny crack in the wall and illuminated part of the room. Raisa flicked on the switch, but no light came on. Oh, yeah. The electricity was cut this morning in preparation for the turnover. Well, goodbye, house. I’ve had a wonderful thirty-two years living here—
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