by Landra Graf
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
What You Crave
Copyright 2016 by Landra Graf
ISBN: 978-1-61333-988-6
Cover art by Mina Carter
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
Look for us online at:
www.decadentpublishing.com
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
What You Need by Landra Graf
Dear Reader,
Thank you for joining me in reading Sig and Lauren’s story. For me this story came to life partly because I wanted to write about rope and shibari. I wanted bondage in greater detail then what I’d read in other books, and how one man uses it not as something to hide behind, but because he truly enjoys the act. Also, how could I not give Victoria another chance to poke her head into a place it didn’t belong?
I hope you enjoy this story about forgiveness and letting go of misconceptions. Once you’re finished I’d love to know what you think. Feel free to drop me a line at [email protected]
Sincerely,
Landra Graf
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Also by Landra Graf
What You Need
Pirate Assassin Spy
A Rose by Any Other Name
Coming Soon!
What You Want
What You Desire
What You Crave
Sigmund Bermudez has spent the last year out of the BDSM scene, mourning the death of his father and rebuilding the family business. When he loses a bet to his bodyguard that Madame Eve won’t locate a woman who’s down with his type of kink, he finds himself committed to a date he’s not sure he’ll enjoy.
Lauren Elser has heard about kinky escapades from one of her more challenging patients, and never taken in part in one. When offered a chance to explore this undiscovered side of herself courtesy of 1Night Stand, she jumps at it.
Neither of them is prepared for the emotional rollercoaster that comes with their date, and soon shibari bondage play turns into so much more. The only problem, is Sig’s not ready to open up and Lauren doesn’t want to be used again. But if they work past the issues, there’s a world of wonder in store.
Dedication
To my husband, for encouraging me to re-visit this world and giving me the initial idea for this story. I mutilated it a bit, but it’s the thought that counts. 777
What You Crave
Desperately Seeking Submissive Book 1
A 1Night Stand Story
By
Landra Graf
Chapter One
Sigmund Bermudez read the email again, his fingers twisting a thin piece of nylon rope into an intricate knot. Another displeased Isle of Bermuda casino whale, and they wanted comp status.
“You need a night off.”
Sig looked up from the email on his desk. “Nights off are for sorry sacks, who don’t want to make money.”
“Says my boss, whose casino makes more money than any other in the tri-state area.” Kanoa, his bodyguard, said this with arms crossed, armband tattoos peeking out of the sleeves of his plain, black t-shirt. “Anyway, I’m not saying it because I believe it. This is a directive from upstairs.”
Damn! His uncle was the cause of the email in front of him. Since Sig’s father passed away they’d been in a constant struggle for power. The casino belonged to him, not his father’s brother, who cared more for living a decadent lifestyle than managing the million-dollar business on the verge of pulling out of the red. “He’s not the most reliable person to give advice. Especially since he offended one of our biggest whales.”
“Sir?”
“Don’t go there. You’ve never called me 'Sir'. Don’t start now.” They’d known each other too long for formalities, serving together in the military, while bonding over MRE’s and cold night patrols. They reserved ‘Sir’ for high-ranking officers and he didn’t constitute as one.
“An attempt at respect because you won’t like what I have to say.”
“I may not like it, but don’t try to placate me. Spit it out.” His fingers continued twisting and looping the ends of the rope through the rings of the emerging design.
Kanoa stepped up to the desk and placed both palms flat against the dark cherry wood, the tribal sleeve on his arm a foreboding reminder that his friend enjoyed pain like Sig enjoyed ropes. “You’re working too hard, too much, and setting yourself up for failure.”
Both eyebrows went up. “Really? Last time I checked we were making a profit again.”
“Yes, but your patrons and employees aren’t happy with the person running things. I’ve heard talk you’re too uptight and far too quick to alienate yourself from everyone. Speaking of, when did you last play a scene?”
He straightened up in his chair, tucking the finished rope square into his pocket. “None of your business.” The last time he’d bothered to indulge his kind of fantasies, sexual or dominant, had been before his father’s death.
“I’m your friend and bodyguard, it’s my business.”
“A year.”
“Hell.” Kanoa swung away from the desk and marched over to the massive window overlooking the main casino floor. The t-shirt and blue jeans look made a stark contrast to his own three-piece suit. “To remain celibate in a war zone is one thing. Self-induced deprivation is crap when you’ve got a whole room full of women ripe for the picking.”
“I don’t want a woman who’s damaged or suffering from an addiction. Not to mention most of them wouldn
’t know what a scene is.”
His friend scoffed. “They’re not all like that and a good portion don’t know what they are missing.”
“There’s not enough time in my schedule to waste trying to find out.” The fact remained his particular tastes were hard to satisfy. Most women wanted a man who’d give them safe, vanilla sex with maybe a few rough moments involving pulled hair or driving them against a wall. He wanted more than those basic, simplistic ideas of sensuality... he craved his partner’s submission and obedience. “And you know how I like my women. I’m not going to find one out there.”
“But what if you could?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” If he had a nickel for every time Kanoa spoke in riddles he wouldn’t need to work so hard to save his family’s business.
“How about a bet? If I can find a woman interested in your type of fun, would you agree to a date and whatever else follows, without complaint?”
“Do you want to lose a bet to me again?”
His bodyguard was no gambler. No, the man fared better in picking up women or fighting assholes. “I’ve got the winning hand this time. I know the perfect service to find what you’re looking for.”
“Don’t tell me about it. Just do whatever you’re going to do. At least you asked me before you did it.”
“How do you know?” Kanoa smiled, leaving the room.
Back to work. Sig picked up his phone ready to make an apologetic call and crossed his fingers, hoping to keep another whale from diving overboard.
***
“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Lauren Elser pushed the card across her glass top coffee table.
Victoria, a practicing Dominant and the patient on her couch, lifted her head. “Wasn’t it you who told me to embrace my inner cravings? To free my desires from the crushing weight of my past relationships?”
“Yes, I said something along those lines but...”—how to put this tactfully—“I’m your therapist and it’s not ethical for me to talk about this with you.”
“We talk about everything else.” Victoria moved to a sitting position. “In fact, I’ve told you things I don’t tell anyone else.”
Her patient spoke the truth, but infatuations with a person’s sexual practices were inappropriate. Yet each appointment they spent a good chunk of time having ‘healthy’ conversations about preferred fetishes, sexual encounters with other submissives, and any current adventures the Domme had with her boyfriend. Through all their talks it’d been difficult to not profess a curiosity in the lifestyle or admiration for the uncharted experimentation the empowered woman willingly engaged in.
She’d spent as much time analyzing her own thoughts and found herself most aroused by dominant practices. Relinquishing control to someone and in return being granted pleasure appealed to her on many levels. She indulged in the fantasy of what such an encounter would detail, talking about limits and locating hers, but the lines had blurred.
“I’m not trying to convince you,” the Domme said. “You don’t have to discuss your preferences either. It’s just a card. A card I’m going to leave here. You can go to the website or not. It’s an option and I won’t break any of your rules, either.”
The timer buzzed, a blessing and a curse. Lauren opened her mouth to speak, but before she did—
“Well, I guess that’s it for today. I’ll tell Royce you said hello. See you next week.” Victoria stood and bolted out the door, for safety purposes, no doubt. Lauren glanced at the card, with Madame Eve’s 1Night Stand Service embossed in gold on a black background.
She stuffed the rectangle temptation into her suit pocket to get it off the table before her next client came in.
***
Two hours later her client appointments were done for the day and the damn card burned a hole in her pocket; like a magic talisman from some fantasy movie calling out to her. She’d been trying so hard to forget about it, attempting to occupy herself with updating patient files and cataloging her notes. Then it evolved into rocking side-to-side in her chair, until she gave in and pulled the card out. What harm came from visiting the site? turned into What harm came from filling out an application? and then she fell down the rabbit hole.
There were preferences - very detailed preferences - to fill out. The final check box involved acknowledging a disclaimer about matches not being instantaneous or in some cases not found at all. Madame Eve took her job seriously.
Much more than her ex, Randall, whose idea of pleasure involved a race to get off as fast as possible with very little effort on his end. She topped, she blew and jacked him and he rarely returned the favor. He’d tended to her orgasms in the early stages of their relationship, the magic time when a man would do anything to please his woman, to secure a spot in her life. After those courting rituals were over and his role assured, the asshole revealed his true colors. Too bad she’d wasted more than a year on such a worthless cause.
Lauren went through each field twice, listing out favorite foods, beverages, scents, colors, and then it took a turn toward her sexual inclinations. She expressed her interest in submission, but indicated she had no clue about her limits. By the time she’d uploaded a picture and pressed submit the sun had already set in the Fall sky. With no more time to waste, she shut things down and headed out the door.
Chapter Two
The Castillo Hotel of Fayetteville had swanky accommodations, but they didn’t hold a candle to his honeymoon suites at Isle of Bermuda. Still, Sig was happy his date would occur here and not at his own casino and hotel. Less chance of being recognized, and if things didn’t work out then all the easier for him to sneak out without notice.
Hell, thanks to Kanoa, he had no reason to be worried. He booked the room under an assumed name, the one he used for his application on Madame Eve’s site. Tonight, his name was John.
He couldn’t believe this dating site found him someone interested in bondage. At the BDSM clubs he used to frequent, women or men interested in the type of play he enjoyed were few and far between. Most of his encounters were spent with sub’s who wanted to ‘experiment’, and then backed out before things got too involved, with ropes or with him.
“I’ve swept each room. Everything appears clean,” his bodyguard announced, entering the main living area of the suite.
To keep things private he’d purchased the largest room they had, equipped with living area, dining area, bedroom and bathroom. She had the option to leave whenever she wanted. He’d be surprised if they made it past dinner. If she chickened out, which seemed likely, then the night ended with him alone, dessert and maybe a movie on television.
Still, he’d arrived prepared. Hoisting his duffel bag onto his shoulder he headed for the bedroom. “Then I’ll start setting things up.”
The four-poster bed and white bedding were perfect. A small part of him hoped the gorgeous woman wanted to take things further than a simple scene. To spread her out across the comforter and tie her up would please him just fine, though. Multiple scenarios had rattled around in his brain since he’d been granted access to her photo and her basic likes and dislikes.
He strode over to the black, low-sitting dresser and opened his bag. Gathering the rope chains he set them out, organizing them and taking pleasure in reviewing the varying varieties, colors, and lengths. Nylon cording, his preference for new sessions, made up the bulk of the collection. Nylon held shape better, stood up to multiple types of knots, and worked well on bondage virgins. Yet, he kept a few cords of silk on hand, with small diameters designed for tiny jobs— ideally, nipples. The hemp and jute he’d left at the office.
“Think you’ve got enough rope?” Kanoa stood beside him, eyes wide. His finger moved through the air counting the number of chains on the dresser top.
Sig placed a knife, scissors, lighter, and candles out beside them. “It pays to be prepared.”
“Really? Then what the hell is this other stuff for?”
“Finding out would require show
ing me more of yourself than you want to.” He didn’t discriminate when it came to bondage, though sexually he preferred women. Tying someone up aroused him, speaking to the side of him that liked control. Gender didn’t matter in those moments, submission did.
“You’re right.” His bodyguard rubbed one of the ropes, sliding his fingers up and down the chain. “Sometimes I wonder.... Do you need anything else?”
“You to get the hell out of here before she arrives.” His friend didn’t look like a hotel employee and in many cases his bulky frame intimidated people he wanted to impress. He refused to take chances and freak his date out.
Kanoa frowned. “Fine. I’ll be across the hall if you need me.”
“I won’t.” He’d protested the original plan with them booking adjoining rooms, separating them by a single door. No sense in rousing his bodyguard’s protective side if things got heated or loud. He enjoyed a little noise from his subs during the act and liked to hear them cry out his name.
“You’re still sore about losing the bet aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “Maybe I’m more worried she’ll be like Ashlynn.”
“Nope, Ashlynn wins the award for most awful woman. She wound you up so tight, then cheated on you and had the nerve to call you depraved.”
“She’s into cuckolding.” Too bad he believed in monogamy.
“Sure, everyone’s got their fetishes, but you talk about them. Not hide them in dark until you can’t control yourself.”
“She knew what she was doing.” Thank goodness the one time she’d decided to bring another man to their bed turned out to be the night she’d broken things off. The unfortunate part is it happened hours before his father died. He still hadn’t determined if her little stunt helped him or hurt him, but since then dating had been out of the question.