by Opal Carew
It was perfect, sweaty, intense and terrifying. And so worth every single moment of uncertainty and pain that had come before.
She trembled and shook in the aftermath. Noah released the cuffs and Ty caught her in his arms. They laid her across their laps on a loveseat that was part of the rich furnishings in the dungeon.
Both men, together, stroked her, cleaned her and loved her as they all strengthened the circle that indicated a future bound by their connection. She cried and they kissed away her tears. She thought about that moment when she’d landed at the Baltimore airport ready to do battle, to take Ty away from Noah. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she had been unsuccessful, that Noah had found a way to love her and that Ty had found a way to be with them both.
Even as her pulse slowed and their murmurs quieted, she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But the good stuff never was. As she surrendered to the two men she loved, she knew it would all be worth it.
Chapter Six
Spring had come to Baltimore and it was the perfect day for Noah’s planned guerrilla suspension scene. It was early, only six in the morning, but the air wasn’t too frigid. Ty glanced at Tasha and they shared a secret smile. They had cooked up a surprise for Noah and Ty hoped it would be the spectacular show they’d envisioned.
The City Hall building was a beautiful site in Baltimore and this ambitious plan to suspend Tasha from one of the flagpoles in front was risky. Ty couldn’t blame Noah for the desire to suspend Tasha there. The building’s stately beauty would complement Tasha’s in a way that would be artistic and stunning.
“Ty, do you need to set up for your shot?” Noah rechecked his carbonaires and ran the rope through his long fingers, looking for any last-minute flaws.
Ty watched him through his camera lens, focusing on Noah’s hands and the sure way he handled his equipment. “I think I’ve got it.”
The air was crisp but not too cold as Tasha stripped to her bra and underwear. As Noah slowly began to wrap the rope around Tasha’s torso, Ty snapped pictures and marveled at the way she responded instantly to the constriction of the rope. Of course, he knew he did the same when he was the center of Noah’s focus.
Noah had required that Tasha put her hair up in a tight circular bun so it stayed out of the way, and Ty had a clear view of her face as her eyes glazed over and her lips parted. Noah’s rope harness was a complicated set of knots and ties that were punctuated by low murmurs and loving touches.
Ty signaled to his car and his surprise stepped out. Angela was his new assistant and would be a big part of the plan. Without breaking Noah’s concentration, Ty handed the camera to Angela and stripped off his clothes.
As he stepped closer, Ty met Tasha’s glazed stare and she smiled. Noah turned his head and the pleased surprise was gratifying. Without words, Noah understood what Ty wanted and needed.
All the times that Noah had practiced his public displays of bondage, Ty had been in the background, the photographer who captured the moment. Though Noah had bound and suspended Ty in private or at Master A’s house, this would be much more for both of them.
Without breaking eye contact, Noah began to bind Ty to Tasha, back to back. On Tasha, he had outlined her bra-covered breasts with the rope, drawing attention to her curves. On Ty, Noah doubled the rope, creating a harness vest that emphasized muscle and mass. The contrast would make a great photo shoot, and Ty smiled.
The way Noah wrapped the strands around him, the way his hands were sure and confident, was enough to send Ty dropping down into that still, quiet place within. He loved that place. He knew Tasha was with him and that Noah would protect him. As much as he loved being the protector too, he had missed this part of himself.
“I have to readjust some things for your weight.” Noah’s voice penetrated the drifting fog in Ty’s mind. “Are you okay?”
He nodded, barely on the planet. Tasha murmured something low. Her voice, too, wound its way inside him, tightening his groin and making the rope squeeze his testicles.
Noah chuckled. “I knew you’d be bad, so I prepared.”
“Feels good,” Ty said.
For what seemed both like an eternity and only a split second, Noah was gone. When he returned, he caressed Ty’s neck and kissed him. Then he brushed his lips over Tasha’s. “Ready?
Not that it mattered what they answered. Noah and two others began to raise Ty and Tasha off the ground. Bound together, they dangled like a Christmas ornament, their legs tangled together and their arms bound so close that Ty could thread his fingers through hers.
The wind was cold as they reached the top of the pole. The flag that fluttered whipped and snapped. Ty floated even as his vision processed the way the sun rose, cascading light across them.
“It’s beautiful,” Tasha breathed.
Ty’s heart was full and content. His hands were intertwined with Tasha’s and the rope was a reminder of his Master’s hold. He was safe and loved. Even dangling high off the ground with only Noah’s bindings keeping him tethered, he knew he was secure. Like Noah’s love, the rope would hold him yet free him.
The chaos below meant nothing. How long they were there didn’t matter either. He and Tasha didn’t speak much. They didn’t need to.
When Noah began to lower them, Ty wanted to protest. But he knew that the bindings would start to chafe and they needed to come down eventually. It surprised him that only twenty minutes had passed.
Ty’s feet touched the ground and Noah’s warm hands made him moan. “Master,” he whispered.
“What is it, love?” Noah asked in a husky tone.
“I love you. With everything. I trust you.”
Noah stroked his cheek, his dark gaze intense and glittering. “I love you too. You were stunning. Amazing.”
As he unwrapped the rope, Noah murmured words of love to Tasha. Even as Ty and Tasha’s arms were unbound, their hands remained locked. Freed yet tied to each other. Joined and entwined. Loving and loved.
Tangled and bound forever.
# # #
Want more? Sign up and be the first to learn when Jennifer’s next book is released.
Website: JenniferLeeland.com
Newsletter: JenniferLeeland.com/newsletter
Facebook: facebook.com/jennifer.leeland.3
Twitter: @JenniferLeeland
To skip directly to the next story, click here.
About Jennifer Leeland
I never considered myself a writer…
I loved Harlequin romances when I was little and used to sneak them from my mother’s bookshelf. But my father influenced me with Agatha Christie, Ngiao Marsh and Arthur Conan Doyle. I finally wrote my first completed novel in 2005 and never looked back.
It has been a fabulous journey. I have a special relationship with my characters, who both annoy me and inspire me. And yes, they talk to me. In the shower. In the car. When I’m trying to sleep. Many have asked me why I write erotic romance. Believe me, it would probably be easier to write something my mom could tell her friends about. But I love the emotion, the conflict, the possibilities contained in erotic romance. When I read, I want to indulge in fantasies. I hope I can do the same for others.
I live with a Redneck, who loves to brainstorm with me on occasion, and my two dirt faced Okie kids in the Northern California Boonies. I’ve published with Cobblestone Press, Liquid Silver Books, Loose-Id LLC., Samhain Publishing, and Whiskey Creek Press. I’m a moderator for the award winning writer’s forum Romance Divas where I’ve been a member since 2006.
COMING SOON
Bastard of Arundale
By Jennifer Leeland
A war has begun between two opposing supernatural powers with the Arundale men caught in the middle. To win against his enemy, Lord Marcus Everrett has been forced to return to his childhood home and face the woman he refused to marry years earlier. He had thought their passion had died in the face of his mating another and the rejection of his past. But the moment they are together again, it’s
clear the heat between them still burns. Yet, it will take another man to stoke the fire.
Simon Ormond only wants revenge for the death of his lover. To find passion with a witch and an Arundale wolf who will give him retribution is fortunate. Once he gets a taste of what could be, he must choose between his resignation for death and an unusual, complicated mating.
The lonely years that Mariann Perrin had spent after Marcus left her had left her hungry for the love denied her. But she has a task to do, given to her by the power she inherited. Now, just as she meets the two men who can fill her empty heart, dark forces move to destroy them. With one man welcoming death and the other still angry about the past, Mariann must find a way to lead them both to love or they may face their enemy and fail.
# # #
Her Secret
Secret Pleasures #3
Portia Da Costa
Jamie Lennox is the first man that Susannah ever loved, but now he’s different, dangerous and more devastatingly attractive than ever before. Their reunion is passionate and perverse, a thrilling exchange of power and pleasure. Can this lover from Susannah’s past become the master of her future?
A Note from Portia
I’m a British author, and as such, I use UK spelling and punctuation along with UK terminology and idioms. Enjoy!
Copyright 2015 Portia Da Costa
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
About The Author
Go to next book
Go to previous book
Go to Table of Contents
Chapter One
Susannah
‘Who is that man over there? The one with the hair, talking to Ben’s dad?’
I don’t know why I’m asking Maggie that question. I already know the answer.
The man with the hair is the first man I ever had sex with and his name’s Jamie Lennox. I wonder if he still goes by ‘Jamie’ though? Might he have gone all grown-up and call himself ‘James’ now that well over a decade has passed?
No, somehow I’ve got a gut feeling he’s still ‘Jamie’. Even if almost everything else about him seems to have changed.
‘I think he’s an old university friend of Ben’s. Rather dishy, isn’t he? I’m not usually one for guys with long hair, but it looks great on him.’ Maggie gives my long-lost lover a scrupulous once-over, as if she’s scoring him on his various ‘assets’ even though I know she’s completely devoted to her boyfriend, Alastair.
‘Naughty, naughty.’ I grin and try to sound nonchalant, even though I’m far from it. ‘You’re spoken for, woman. Or as good as.’
Maggie blushes and looks flustered. Have things gone further than we all realise?
‘I can still look, can’t I? Nothing wrong in that. And anyway, he only seems to have eyes for you, Suze. He keeps looking over here at you. Are you sure you don’t know him?’
‘Positive.’ You’d never know I didn’t make a practice of lying, considering how the fib rolled off my tongue.
‘Well, you should get to know him then. This is a wedding, after all. People are supposed to get off with each other.’
I can’t. Can I? It’d be too weird. A bizarre coincidence that the guy I once had a serious thing with at high school just happens to be an old buddy of the new husband of one of my best friends. And we didn’t really part on the very best of terms either.
As I think that, he looks across again and lasers me with those stunning green eyes of his. I’ve never forgotten them. Never forgotten the fire in them looking down on me while he was inside me. The shoulder-length hair and the weathering of the intervening years, those things make him different; but his eyes haven’t lost any of their power. Or their unblinking, riveting gaze.
He says something to the person he’s with, clearly excusing himself. Oh God, he’s coming over, isn’t he? Somehow it suddenly seems important to take control and get my act together, even though memories of being with Jamie are making my knees go weak.
‘You’re absolutely right. I’m going in!’ I tell Maggie, ‘Wish me luck!’
‘I don’t think you need it. You look fabulous today, and he obviously fancies you. It’s a done deal, kiddo.’ She gives me a quick hug and then speeds away in search of her beloved Alastair.
The room is crowded and hectic with jolly wedding guests, and Jamie has to weave his way between them. As do I, approaching him. But like in a movie, it’s as if there’s nobody else here and everyone else blurs away.
He looks stunning. He is stunning. The epithet ‘tall, dark and handsome’ might have been coined especially for him, and his black clothing—a leather jacket, black shirt, and black jeans—only amplify the effect. He clearly does his own thing at all times rather than conform to the traditions of wedding-guest attire. He wasn’t quite such an individualist all those years ago.
‘Suzie,’ he says softly when we’re face-to-face.
The way he says it whisks me back across the years and hurls me into the depths of my first hard crush on him, the desire I felt. Nobody calls me that now. It’s either ‘Suze’, or ‘Susannah’. But ‘Suzie’ sounds perfect on his lips, his name for me when I was his.
He smiles down at me. ‘To use a cliché, fancy meeting you here. You look wonderful. More beautiful than ever.’
The outrageous compliments out of the blue throw me into a tailspin, stealing any smart, snappy words I might have uttered. It’s as if I remember every second of our time together, especially the intimate bits.
Oh, how I loved him. I couldn’t get enough of him. But then we parted, and that bit of my memory is fuzzier. It was hard, I know, and it hurt, even though it was my choice. But it seemed like the best thing for us both at the time.
Afterwards, though, I wasn’t so sure.
‘Ditto,’ I finally blurt out and then laugh. I sound so dumb, so gauche. So bemused by the intersection of the past and the present. ‘Love the hair!’ I nod at the beautiful black silk fall that brushes his shoulders. ‘It’s a small world though, isn’t it? You’re Ben’s uni friend, I understand?’
He nods now. He’s scrutinising me intensely, but his expression is guarded too. He’s giving far less away than I am, that’s for sure.
‘And I’m a friend and workmate of Sarah, the bride.’
We’re standing here, face-to-face, locked in this strange moment and very much in the way of everything, at a bottleneck in the room. Other guests jostle past us, some excusing themselves, others not so much, tut-tutting a bit.
‘Look, I saw a smaller bar across the foyer. Shall we go and get a drink there?’ His hand settles on my elbow to guide me, and it’s like electricity. His green eyes flare as if he felt the same jolt of reaction.
‘Sounds great. I’d love to.’
He pauses momentarily. ‘Unless you’re with someone, of course?’
‘Nope. I’m all on my own. A singleton. Fancy-free.’ Gah, that sounds a bit desperate, and ridiculous, as if despite everything, I’m trying to pull him.
Maybe I am trying to pull him? My body’s screaming at me that I want him. Hell, I don’t know. Maybe it’s best just to wing it. See how the reminiscences go, whether there are any lingering hard feelings. I lead the way out, heading towards the foyer and the small bar beyond.
‘What’ll you have?’ he asks when we’re settled on two stools.
I’m not sure which I’m more conscious of: the way my skirt’s risen up and is showing my thighs, or Jamie’s long, lean legs in black denim and the way the fabric clings lovingly to his crotch. My heart skips and desire surges like warm honey in the pit of my belly. We were both young when we were together, and the sex wasn’t great at first… but he was… and still is…
big.
‘I… I’m not sure what I fancy.’ Oh, great. Be a babbling idiot. Just because this man took your virginity and wanted more when you didn’t. Surely you can do better and act like a grown-up now you are one, Susannah?
‘Let’s have champagne,’ he suggests, grinning as if the guard’s suddenly come down. ‘It is a wedding, after all.’ His smile has a wolf-like quality, as if he’s poised to pounce on the slightest vulnerability. Which is scary and not at all like the gentle, mild-mannered Jamie of years ago.
‘Yes, but not our wedding.’
It’s like someone’s dropped an Acme anvil into the room. Why, oh why, did I say that? Suddenly I’m remembering more and more about our parting, and my timorous, half-arsed reasons for it. We were going our separate ways education-wise, and long-distance relationships are hard work. I was too fearful, too lazy, to face that, but at the moment of truth Jamie revealed that he’d thought, hoped, believed, that it would be worth it. He backtracked immediately, and it was like a shutter had come down. The guard he still seems to wear. But, seeing more clearly now, I remember an instant of intense, haggard pain on his face before he hid his feelings, stark but quickly gone.
‘Very true, but let’s go mad all the same, eh?’ Those jewel eyes of his twinkle. No pain in them tonight. Grown-up Jamie is probably immune to it. He’s all danger and thrilling challenge now. Oh boy.
Before I can demur further, he’s summoned the barman and ordered the fizz. He doesn’t show off by ordering some big brand but just closely questions the guy about the origins of the house champagne and nods the okay when he’s satisfied. We used to drink cans of cheap supermarket lager back in the old days, but clearly Jamie’s grown sophisticated over the years, despite his biker, Gothish style.
When the tasting nonsense is over, I take a sip, trying not to cough because I’m rattled by the way he’s still looking at me.
‘It’s gorgeous.’ It is. House or no house, it’s lovely stuff.
‘Isn’t it?’ He grins at me.
Dear God, he’s ten times as handsome as he was at eighteen. He was thin-faced back then, cute as an imp, but scrawny. Now he’s still lean, and his features are still sharp. But the years have brought with them elegance, poise… and a charismatic beauty. Looking at him now, I can’t believe I ever let him get away.