Raw (A Dark Romance)
By
Tawny Taylor
Published By Novel Mind Books
Copyright © 2013 Tawny Taylor
All rights reserved
Books By Tamryn Ward
Hopelessly Broken
This Crazy Little Thing
Books by Tawny Taylor
Wild Knights
Wicked Knights
Wanton Knights
Wild, Wicked & Wanton
Dark Master
Decadent Master
Dangerous Master
Darkest Fire
Darkest Desire
Claim Me
Wicked Beast
Prince of Fire
Girl Enslaved
Dirty Little Lies
Triple Stud
Enslaved by Sin
Double Take
Behind the Mask
Plays Well with Others
Lust’s Temptation
Wrath’s Embrace
Burning Hunger
Torrid Hunger
Everlasting Hunger
Slave of Duty
Flesh to Flesh
Compromising Positions
Breathless
Pleasing Him
At His Mercy
Ties That Bind
Heart Throb
Burn For You
Her Lesson in Sin
Touch of Fire
His Dark Kiss
Playing for Keeps
Your Wicked Game
Make Me Burn
Make Me Shiver
What He Wants (My Alpha Billionaire, 1)
What He Demands (My Alpha Billionaire, 2)
What He Craves (My Alpha Billionaire, 3)
What He Needs (My Alpha Billionaire, 4)
My Alpha Billionaire (What He Wants, Books 1-4)
Yes, Master
Make You Mine
BEARed to You
Surrender
Darkest Ecstasy (Coming in 2014)
What He Desires (My Alpha Billionaire, 5)
RAW A Dark Romance
ABOUT THE BOOK
Raw: A dark romance
Kendall Tremaine is content with her life. Sure, she is still haunted by the ghosts of a dark past, still searching for redemption from selfish actions. But she wakes each morning, hoping it is just around the corner. Until a trip to Spain turns her life upside down. She is sold as a sex slave. To a devastatingly handsome–and dangerous—billionaire. A billionaire who is more monster than man.
But it is the man’s tenderness that threatens to destroy her…not the monster’s cruelty.
Kace Ramos loves the sight of women knotted in his ropes. He enjoys their whimpers of pain. He craves their screams of terror. He never has a shortage of beautiful women in his dungeon. Some quietly submissive, some openly defiant, he strips them raw and then sends them home, broken and bruised. But the unbreakable Kendall does something no slave has ever done. Her cries of pleasure shatter his barriers, making him feel things he’s never felt before…things he thought he could never feel. Even before their time is up, he knows he’ll never get her out of his mind…or his heart.
The man will do whatever it takes to make her his. But the monster won’t be satisfied until he has torn her to pieces.
SAMPLE
I backed away from him, one step, two. “Please. I’m a virgin. And I need to stay that way. I have no money. I’m not educated. My parents are dead. My purity is the one thing, the only thing, I have to offer a husband. Please don’t take that away from me.”
Staring at me with obsidian eyes, cold and hard, he shook his head. “Your pleas land on deaf ears, esclavo. I could care less what you have to offer a husband. I only care that I’ve paid good money for you and I intend to get what I paid for.”
My head spun. I staggered back another step. “You paid money? To…to fuck me?”
“I paid money to do whatever I like to you. For one week.”
I wrapped my arms around myself. My head spun. Thoughts whipped through it, jumbled. “How much money? Maybe I can return your money?”
One brow quirked. “Do you have two million dollars, esclavo? You said you had nothing.”
I gasped. Then, because for some reason the oxygen I’d gulped didn’t make it to my lungs, I gasped a second time. “Two million? Two million U.S. dollars?” My legs wobbled. “Two million?”
“Two million.” Once again, he closed the distance between us. “So you see, esclavo, I will get whatever I want. I’ve paid a great price for the right.”
“But…but…I’m not for sale!”
“You were.” He prowled closer, evil smile in place, eyes glittering. “And I was the highest bidder.”
This couldn’t be happening. Had Sid’s boss sold me like a common whore? My stomach convulsed, and I fell to my knees. I heaved but nothing came up.
Something hard and tight clamped around my arm and within a split second I was pulled across the room. With every inch I was dragged my terror swelled. And so did my fury. I fought. I kicked. I writhed and screamed until I was breathless and heaving and trembling all over. Stopping in front of the big wooden X bolted to the back wall, he hauled me to my feet then jerked one of my arms up.
Oh God. If he tied me up I wouldn’t be able to fight. He would be able to do anything he wanted to me. Anything at all.
He could kill me.
I fought even harder. I fought with everything I had. My rage pummeled my system, and I used it to drive me to keep fighting, even when he had one wrist bound. I swung with the other one and kicked with both feet until he’d secured both wrists and ankles in cuffs.
I’d fought. I’d lost.
But I wasn’t giving up.
I was chained to a big x, my back facing my captor. But I was still a virgin. For now.
But for how much longer?
My muscles were so tense they cramped. My nerves were jangling so badly I was shaking from head to toe. My senses were hyper-alert. I heard him moving behind me. I felt the slightest gust of air when he came closer. I smelled his cologne.
I felt his heat burning my back, even though I was still wearing my clothes.
The hairs on my nape stood on end.
“I enjoy your fire, esclavo. Now, let me see if you enjoy mine.”
What did that mean?
My insides twisted.
Heat gushed to my core.
Shocked by my body’s reaction to the menace in his voice, I let my head fall forward until my forehead rested on the structure to which I was bound. “Go to hell.” Since when did the threat of rape turn me on? Since when did a bastard who didn’t give a fuck about me make me cream my panties?
I was sick. Sick!
I deserved to go to hell too.
Confused and disgusted with myself, I smacked my head against the wood and curled my fingers so tightly my fingernails dug into my palms. A sob ripped up my throat.
Behind me, he said, “Now, it is time to see what I have paid for.”
I felt a tug at the back of my shirt and then the sound of rending fabric echoed through the tense silence. My spine arched and I jerked in a desperate (but pointless) attempt at escape. A breeze chilled my back as the torn pieces of my tank top fell aside and my skin prickled with goose bumps. My bathing suit strap snapped and my breasts fell out of the cups. My nipples hardened almost instantly. And another blast of heat pulsed to my center.
I was fucked up.
“Stop it,” I yelled. “Stop it now.”
“Ah, esclavo, keep screaming. Keep shouting. Your pretty little voice makes my cock hard.”
My skirt was next, cut, torn, I couldn’t tell which. The material slid down my right leg, catching on a cuff at my ankle. My
bathing suit bottoms would be next. Oh God.
My pussy clenched. Hot, sticky cream coated my folds, dampening the lining.
He audibly inhaled. “I can smell your cream. Intoxicating.”
“Fuck you.”
“As you wish.”
I felt the tug at the waistband and panic gripped me. I writhed, fighting the chains holding my ankles and wrists in place. But there was no hope, no use. I was bound tight, unable to resist. Fingers slid down my lycra-covered crack. I trembled. Tears coursed down my cheeks, even as more heat pounded to my pussy. I was shocked and ashamed by my body’s response. I despised this man. I didn’t want him to touch me. Not my back. Not my ass. And…oh God…not down there.
“No,” I said on a whimper. “No, no, no.”
His fingers grazed over my sensitive flesh. No man had ever touched my pussy. It felt so good. Good but wrong. Wrong but thrilling.
“Please stop,” I begged.
“Do you know what the scent of your cream does to me? Esclavo, you are so wet. I want to cram my cock into that slick, tight heat and make you scream until you can’t scream anymore.” My thighs tensed. My feet slid wider apart, as far as the chains would allow, opening my center for his probing digits.
What the hell was I doing, welcoming his invasion?
My breathing quickened. My heartbeat thumped through my body, sending wave upon wave of lust burning through my core. My pussy was empty and clenching, so wet and hot I ached. Instinct told me to open wider, surrender to him, even as my brain told me to resist, to fight, to beg for mercy.
I couldn’t let him take what was mine.
But even as that thought blazed through my mind, I quivered with need. His fingers slipped into the leg of my bottoms, fingernails grazing my labia. My insides pulsed, and the air filled with the sweet scent of my need.
I was shameless. I was a whore. A whore who didn’t just want his touch to delve deeper, I needed his touch to delve deeper.
Closing my eyes, I waited, my breath in my throat. My blood was like lava, burning through my body. Every nerve in my skin was electrified. His touch had awakened a part of myself I hadn’t realized existed. The feral self who didn’t give a damn about shoulds and should nots.
“This is mine. My cunt.” When his finger slipped between my nether lips, I whimpered. I quaked. I bit my lip and dug my fingernails into my palms. Deeper. I wanted his touch to go deeper. To thrust inside, stretch me wide.
Instead, it slid out.
“You surrender so quickly, esclavo. Where did that fire go?” He walked away, leaving me standing there, barely able to hold myself up. My legs were as soft as molten gelatin. Knees wobbly. Pulse pounding in my ears. Arms practically numb from lack of blood supply. And the evidence of my need dripping from my pussy.
Was he done?
The door’s hinges creaked. His footsteps echoed. He was out in the hallway, walking farther and farther away.
I pulled in a deep breath. Was I safe? Where was he going? How long would he be gone?
For now my virginity was still intact. But my pride…that was long gone. With just a few strokes he’d tamed me. I’d gone from kicking and screaming to protect myself to spreading my legs and practically begging him to take me.
And this was just the first day. The first hour of the first day.
If he kept to his word (and that was a big if, in my book), and would release me at the end of the week, there were still many hours of this torture ahead of me yet.
How would I survive?
Raw (A Dark Romance)
Books By Tamryn Ward
Books by Tawny Taylor
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
The Favor of a Review
ABOUT TAWNY TAYLOR
Female #162553
Age: 22
Education: University of Michigan, BA English Creative Writing
Hair: blond
Height: 5’5”
Weight: 135
Maidenhead: intact (medical verification attached)
Price: $2.5 million
Length of contract: one week
I’ve gazed too long into the abyss.--Kace R.
One
I am a simple girl.
I have a simple dream: to be a queen (of a small country).
But it isn’t because I expect to live a lavish lifestyle. I don’t want to buy expensive designer clothes, or own a shoe collection that would make Khloe Kardashian jealous. And I definitely don’t want to live in a lux home that looks like a museum.
Like I said, I’m a simple girl. I want to be a queen because money and power buys a lot of things.
It buys health.
It buys stability.
And…it buys safety.
I know firsthand what it’s like not to have any of those things. And let me tell you, it sucks. Especially when you’re a kid and there’s nothing you can do about it. That is why I want to be a queen. Then I could use my money and power to help the innocent victims in our world. I could help the children.
In the meantime, while I wait for my Prince Charming to make his appearance, I must continue to live my simple life. I’ll write and publish my smutty romances because they pay the bills. And it’ll be oatmeal with almond milk for breakfast, peanut butter and jelly for lunch, and Ramen noodles for dinner until the day he sweeps me off my feet and carries me into the church to say our vows.
See? Simple. That’s me. That’s my life.
My name is Kendall Tremaine, Ken to my best friend Sidonie Morris. In my world, mornings don’t exist (because I’m never awake before noon), cake is a breakfast food, and most men are only good for two things: bug squashing and tire changing.
Unfortunately, my best friend Sidonie, aka Sid, has never agreed with me on that last one. Which is why she was standing in the middle of my living room-slash-office-slash-kitchen-slash-bedroom, giving me the stink eye.
You see, for the past year I have worked, slept, and ate in this space, the area of a closet. On my current income I couldn’t afford anything bigger. And being a simple girl, I didn’t need anything bigger. Nor did I need, or could afford, a trip to Spain. Especially just to go on a blind date with a billionaire playboy who probably had no intention of ever marrying anyone.
“You have to go,” my very determined, very persistent, very humble best friend informed me as she sank to her knees, to grovel at my feet.
“No, I don’t have to do anything.” The groveling was working. It was making me feel a smidgen guilty. Trying hard to distract myself from Sid’s pleading puppy dog eyes, I sat on my couch, dragged my laptop onto my lap, and poked at the keys.
“But…yes, you do. Or my boss will kill me.”
Her boss was Fallon Franchot. Owner of Franchot International. Franchot International, aka FI, was a high profile matchmaking service catering to rich men (supposedly) looking for (trophy) wives. Their success rate was in the fraction-of-a-percent range. Not that it mattered. Rich men with money to throw away came flocking to FI anyway, willing to throw away a few thousand dollars for a handful of dates (and a screw or two) with a hot gold digger.
And thus, when I’d signed up, I’d told myself I would not go on any date FI arranged. I was a gold digger. No denying that one. However I was a gold digger with morals. Standards. But I hadn’t thought about the fact that my bestie’s livelihood might be compromised if I refused.
Sigh.
My shoulders slumped as I met her pleading gaze.
She lifted clasped hands, looking like (a young, cute, but obnoxious) Mother Teresa. “Pleassssse.”
I wished I could blame Sid for this situation, but I couldn’t. It was my fault. After a night of drinking way too much tequila, I agreed to join FI to shut Sid up for once and for all. She’d been begging and pleading for me to join f
or months. In my (extremely) intoxicated state I’d experienced a weak moment and signed on the dotted line. But I hadn’t heard a word since.
All this time I’d been hoping they’d lost my application. Sidonie had also consumed her share of tequila that night. I figured she might have left my paperwork somewhere or misplaced it.
But, obviously, no such luck.
I closed my computer to focus on our conversation. I had to get out of this somehow, without putting Sid’s job in jeopardy. “Okay, I get it. The mighty Fallon Franchot wants her fee, but…Sid, Spain?”
“Yes, Spain.” Sid blinked happy eyes at me. “Just look at it this way, it’s a free vacation. Spain is gorgeous. And at this time of year--”
“I don’t want a vacation.” I patted my computer. “I have work to do.”
“You can work anywhere.” She made air quotes. “’Have laptop, will travel.’ That’s what you’ve always said.”
“I can work almost anywhere,” I corrected. “I have to have an internet connection.”
Sid smacked her forehead. “Oh shit, of course there’s no internet in Spain.” Not even trying to hide her smirk, she gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, crap, I guess that’s it. You can’t go.”
I snarled, “Haha. Cute. But…that’s a long way to travel for a blind date, Sid. You know I don’t really care if I go on any dates or not. We both know the vast majority of FI’s clients aren’t looking for wives. Most of them just want to find a hot girl to fuck for a few months until something better comes along or they get bored. I only joined FI to shut you up. If you are going to insist on hooking me up, couldn’t you find a guy who lives a little closer? Like…Hawaii? Spain is a foreign country. I’ll need a passport.”
Sid shrugged as she pushed herself off the floor, standing upright. “Sorry, Ken. This is the first guy who has inquired about you. He’s an important client. A client no one can say no to…if you get my drift.”
What she was saying was that she couldn’t say no to Mr. Spanish Big Shot. And her boss couldn’t say no to Mr. Spanish Big Shot. Thus, I, being a lowly gold-digging, trophy-wife-wannabe, couldn’t say no, either.
Fucking great.
Raw, A Dark Romance Page 1