One Night in Vegas

by Mari Carr, Red Phoenix, Angel Payne, Sierra Cartwright, Jenna Jacob, Victoria Blue

  Avery sat back.

  Which would she regret more? Being courageous? Or not taking a chance?

  Her heart thundered as she reached for her phone to text Noelle to ask for Cole’s number.

  It didn’t mean she had to contact him; it just meant she could, if she decided to.

  Instead of staring at the phone, waiting for a response, she dropped it into her purse and headed out the door.

  The chime sounded while she was driving, and she waited until she was at a stoplight to check her messages.

  Noelle had replied with a smiley face. And his contact information was all there, email, social media, and his cell phone. His number showed up in blue, which meant all Avery had to do was touch it to be connected.

  That she didn’t dare do until she was home.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t get there quick enough.

  By the time she arrived, adrenaline was flooding her system. What if he didn’t answer? What if he didn’t call back? Her mind skipped through ten different scenarios before she harnessed her thoughts and took a breath, drawing on the coaching he’d given her when they’d scened.

  If he rejected her, she would be no worse than she was right now.

  But if he wanted to see her…

  She pulled into her assigned spot, parked the car, then grabbed her purse and exited the car.

  The pain of doing nothing had become worse than the pain of taking the risk.

  As she walked down the hallway toward her apartment, she slowed. A man stood near her door. Not just any man, one who was tall, broad, unshaven, sexy. Stunned, she stopped near him. “Master Cole.”

  “Avery.” He pushed away from the wall.

  “How do you know my name? Where I live?” She blinked. Then understanding dawned. “Noelle told you I asked for your information.”

  “Yes. I asked for your address in return. But I’ve known who you are all along.”

  Nervously she tucked her hair behind her ears.

  “That’s not possible.”

  “I saw you, that night when I was at Joe and Noelle’s with Gia. Then again maybe six months ago. I asked Noelle about you then.” A grin flirted with the corners of his mouth. “I was hoping that you’d come back, that you’d be brave enough to come to me. Or, hell… I was intrigued enough to approach you if you had shown enough interest.”

  She lurched, as if the world had suddenly started to spin backwards.

  “Your eyes, Avery. They give away the world. The way you walk, your ass swaying? Your body is so damn sexy. Hair length, color?” He shrugged. “Mask? No man would ever forget you.”

  Damn, he’d told her he could be counted on to give her what she needed. She hadn’t known that she needed him to come after her. He left her speechless.

  “Since you contacted Noelle, I figured I’d meet you halfway, make it easier for you. Cupcake?” He brought out a gorgeous brown box with a festive pink ribbon on the top. “Chocolate.”

  “You’re an evil man.”

  “I’m holding it hostage.”

  It might have been her imagination, but she swore she could smell the frosting.

  “I was going to give you another couple of days, then I’d have been all over you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I’d have used my connections with Mr. Nyte to get in touch with Miss Scarlet. Or stalked the cupcake ATM, figuring you’d show up eventually. I’d have pretended not to know who you were until you trusted me enough to tell me what you want and need.”

  “I’m…” She moved her purse from hand to hand. “Ready.

  A neighbor and her two boys who were punching one another, entered the hallway.

  “I think you should come in.”

  Seconds later, he locked the door behind them.

  “Your turn,” he prompted after she’d put down her purse.

  He placed her gift next to it.

  “I missed you.” Her words were soft. “Terribly. I haven’t stopped thinking about you, either.” This was difficult, but the longer she talked, the easier it got. “Being honest with you is easier than not being with you. I may not always be perfect, and it may take some time, but I want to try.”

  He took two steps toward her then had her against the wall, hard. His eyes blazed, the lighter flecks resembling shards of metal. “No mask. No pretense.”

  “No mask,” she repeated. “No pretense. I want you to kiss me, Sir. I want to wrap my arms around your neck. I want you to be hard with me. I like it rough. I want you to put your leg between mine so I can rub my hot pussy on you. I’m desperate to come. I’ve been masturbating, but I haven’t been able to have an orgasm. And if you tell me I can’t have all of those things—any of those things—I will say yes, Sir and be happy. Just be my Dom. We’ll sort out the rest.”

  “I’m in love with you. Do you know that?” He put his hands on the wall on either side of her head.

  She inhaled his spice and the freshness of honesty. His breath was warm on her face, and he moved his thigh between hers, achingly close to her pussy. “I’m halfway there myself,” she told him.

  “Halfway?”

  His eyes narrowed, and she shuddered.

  “I want you all in, Avery. All in. Put your arms around my neck and ride my leg. Then start thinking…”

  “Sir?” She wrapped her arms around him and knew there was no place she would rather be.

  “About how many stripes you’re going to get from my cane.”

  Fear, excitement, doubt, hope all surged through her. “You don’t have it.”

  “In the car, I do,” he countered. “I’m thinking three for each day you’ve been gone.”

  “That’s twenty-one,” she protested.

  “Better idea?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Let’s go get my cane.”

  In that moment, she knew—knew—he would give her what she needed. She sighed, truly happy, maybe for the first time ever.

  The End

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  Bookbub:

  USA Today Best-Selling Author, Winner of the 2015 Best BDSM Book of the Year (Bind), 2015 Reader’s Choice Best Erotic Romance (Bind), 2015 Golden Flogger (Crave), 2014 LASR Book of the Year award (In The Den), 2013 Best BDSM Book of the Year award (Over The Line). 2015 Golden Flogger nominee for Command, Bind, and Brand, Sierra was born in Manchester, England where she spent her early years traipsing through castles. After living in Denver for a number of years, the internationally acclaimed author now resides in Galveston, Texas. She loves the way history blends with Southern manners (being called “sugar” is an experience unto itself). She invites you to join her on a sensual journey where the limits are explored and expanded.

  Sin City Submission

  A Doms of Genesis Novella

  by

  Jenna Jacob

  For Quinn MacKinnon, playing with Ava Gibbs’s body is easy. Playing with his beautiful submissive’s mind will take far more patience and creativity. Gambling their future, he plots to test her limits, relishing the opportunity to push her harder than ever.

  With one sexy dare after another, Quinn thrusts Ava into an extraordinary sensual journey. In a battle of wills, he wages a war for her heart. Can he persuade the strong-willed woman to surrender and become the submissive of his dreams?

  I dedicate this story to my amazing husband, Sean. The unconditional love and encouragement you give, through good times and bad, fill me with the strength and determination to keep reaching for those elusive stars.

  I love you.

  To my One Night in Vegas sisters: Sierra, Mari, Red, Angel, and Victoria, I’m delighted, not only for the opportunity to write with such incredibly talented ladies, but also for your compassion and friendship.

  Thank you.

  To Shel
ley: I’m forever grateful for your guidance, your friendship, and most of all…your love.

  Thank you.

  And to you…the loyal readers who bless me with your passionate support, laughter, and astonishing friendship. You all amaze me.

  Thank you—each and every one—from the bottom of my heart.

  Jenna

  Chapter One

  Ava Gibbs climbed out of the quiet taxi only to be met by an onslaught of commotion. Time was money, a fact driven home by the flurry of valets and cab drivers, shuttling luggage as if they were buckets of water meant to put out a fire. Ava knew all about fires. She hadn’t been able to snuff out the blaze that had been roaring inside her for over a week. A smoldering hunger her boss, Quinn MacKinnon, CEO and President of Fusion Productions—the industry leader in concert promotions—had ignited when he’d invited, or rather instructed, her to join him for a night of fun in Las Vegas.

  Ava was neither stupid nor naïve. Dating your boss was a cliché at best and oftentimes destined to end in disaster. But Quinn was more than her boss and lover—he was her Master. A fact they kept a closely guarded secret. Even the fellow members of Club Genesis—the private BDSM dungeon where they’d met—didn’t know they were living together much less fulfilling their kinky desires behind closed doors.

  She sometimes missed her friends and the club, but it was a small price to pay. The sheer joy and contentment she found with Quinn couldn’t compare. Even after being together for three years, the mere sight of him still made her tingle inside, and she was beyond ready to lay eyes on him again, not to mention have him fuck her senseless.

  The cabbie cleared his throat, drawing Ava from her wistful musing. She tipped the driver, then tugged her suitcase behind her and into the hotel. Entering the lobby of The Nyte—Las Vegas’ newest and most exclusive luxury resort—a knowing smile kicked up the corners of her lips. While she’d expected a classy and extravagant hotel, finding herself surrounded in a sphere of cascading crystal and shimmering gold took her breath away. Quinn didn’t skimp when it came to indulgence; the six-foot-four, sexy Scot, with his thick spice-colored hair and intoxicating sage-green eyes, enjoyed pampering her. Ava didn’t complain a bit.

  Gliding deeper into the lobby, she felt her excitement blossom even more. In a matter of minutes, she’d be enveloped in Quinn’s strong arms again. A part of her felt like a ridiculous schoolgirl. He’d only been gone from their sprawling estate north of Chicago for five days. Quinn had come to Vegas to supervise the kickoff tour of Splatter—a group of talented young musicians who regularly brought the rock world to its knees. But only a few short hours after he’d left, Ava had felt her focus slip away. The centered, submissive type of focus her Master instinctively bred inside her.

  Weaving her way through the people in the lobby, she followed Quinn’s instructions and stepped up to the front desk marked VIP. A dark-blonde-haired man with boyish lips and pewter-gray eyes welcomed her. Darting a glance at his nametag, she flashed a courteous smile at Wesley Tate, Supervisor.

  “How can we help you today, pretty lady?” Wesley asked. His tone teemed with gay pride.

  “I’m joining one of your guests…Quinn MacKinnon. He asked that I see you first to give you my thumbprint.” Asked my ass. Instructed was more like it, she thought with an inward scoff.

  Wesley straightened, tilted his head to the side, and dissected her with a delving stare. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess,” he said, tapping a finger to his pursed pink lips.

  “Guess about what?” she asked, feeling utterly confused.

  “Which recording artist you are, of course.”

  “Oh, I’m not…I…” For crying out loud, don’t tell him you work for Quinn. He’ll think you’re a sleazy gold digger. “Oh, I’m not a musician. I’m just a good friend of Mr. MacKinnon’s.”

  “Of course you are, sugar. Why else would you be spending the night with him in our most popular suite? You lucky little thing, you,” Wesley whispered with a conspiratory wink before a knowing grin speared his lips. He quickly guided her thumb to the center of the scanner before nodding toward the lobby. “The elevator is to your right. Carlos will take up your luggage.”

  “That’s okay, I only have one—”

  “Ah-ahh. No. No. No. We’ll have none of that,” Wesley interrupted with a chastising wiggle of his finger. “No guest of Mr. MacKinnon will carry her own luggage. I pride myself on ensuring special guests and their visitors receive five-star service, and if you need anything at all, ring the front desk and ask to speak to me directly.”

  “Thank you, Wesley. I’ll be sure to do that.”

  The supervisor’s eagerness was endearing. Ava flashed him a quick smile before she turned and followed the young Latino bellman to the elevator.

  Carlos stood at attention in his crisp, tailored uniform as they rode in silence. She settled her gaze on his hands, firmly clasped behind his back and concealed beneath a pair of pristine white gloves. She found it ironic. Both she and Carlos provided a service.

  Though they were on opposite ends of the spectrum and some might construe their roles as menial or debased, Ava found comfort and satisfaction pampering Quinn and kneeling at his feet.

  Serving her Master completed her, and being adored and loved by him was icing on the cake of her happy life. She didn’t give a fig about those who couldn’t grasp the concept of a power exchange.

  As the elevator passed floor after floor, a flutter of anxiety bubbled in Ava’s belly, pelting holes in her self-assurance. During her last conversation with Quinn, he’d made it clear that he intended to push her submissive limits at this Vegas rendezvous. Sucking in a deep breath, she glanced again at Carlos praying that when facing Quinn’s tasks, she could muster the same resolve that the bellman displayed.

  When the elevator stopped, butterflies swooped and dipped as the polished metal doors slid open. Placing her thumb on the keypad, Ava squared her shoulders, searched for the peaceful submissive within, and entered the suite.

  Her eyes grew wide as she took in the splendor around her. The luxurious surroundings looked more like an extravagant apartment than a hotel room. The décor of soothing creams and rich earth tones did little to calm the nervous energy pinging inside her. As she stepped across the speckled marble entry, the rainbow-colored prisms from the crystal chandelier above her head danced over her feet. Were the sinfully lavish surroundings meant as a message? Did Quinn expect a comparably stunning display of her submission? Ava’s anxiety soared off the charts. She needed to see him…touch him, feel his formidable calming, reassuring Dominance in a tangible way.

  Breezing past the sitting area and the inviting designer furnishings, Ava sucked in a ragged breath. “Quinn?” she called, cringing at the sound of desperation in her voice.

  But he didn’t respond.

  Semi-cognizant of Carlos following behind her Ava stopped and turned. While sliding a tip into the palm of his glove, she thanked him, then gripped the handle of her suitcase as she watched him exit the suite.

  “Quinn? Are you here?” she called once more, but again, there was no reply.

  A hint of his amber-musk cologne tickled her nose, and Ava followed the scent to a set of ornate pocket doors. Pulling them open, she discovered another exquisitely decorated room. A massive four-poster bed snagged her attention along with a rose, blindfold, and note that lay atop the mattress. Staring at the paper, she instantly recognized Quinn’s familiar bold pen strokes.

  Skimming a cursory glance over the thick oak balusters sunk into the carpet, a tiny wave of disappointment flittered through her. She’d expected to find some type of bondage apparatus attached to the bedposts. Ava loved when Quinn tied her up. Being at his mercy, bound beneath his soft, silk rope, was always a treat. He was a master of Shibari—Japanese rope bondage. Every time he pressed the shock of knots between her folds, Ava soared off into subspace. And Quinn would always send her higher by tugging on the rope that bisected her butt cheeks…teasing and toying
with her mounting orgasm. Of course, his whiskey-soft, raspy voice wafting over her flesh, forbidding her to come only fueled her sexual depravation even more. A needy, hungry chill undulated up and down her spine.

  Biting back a moan, Ava eased onto the edge of the mattress and drew the rose to her nose. Inhaling its sweet fragrance, she picked up the note and began to read.

  My sweet princess,

  Remove your clothes, lie back on the bed, and bring yourself to the brink of orgasm.

  I know you’ll want to come, but you don’t have permission—that treat belongs to me.

  When you are done, go to the bathroom and prepare yourself.

  While in the tub, bring yourself to the edge once more, thinking of me licking and sucking your sweet, wet cunt.

  Do not come.

  Return to the bed ready to serve me…naked, blindfolded, and on your back with your legs spread wide. Play with your pretty swollen clit one last time, but remember…you do not have permission to come.

  I expect to find you writhing, begging, and out of your mind with need, but you will wait for me, princess. Wait in that blissful suspended state until you hear my voice.

  I have incredible pleasures in store for you.

  Go. Ready yourself for me, my succulent slut. I’ll be here soon.

  All my love, Q.

  Ava’s hands trembled in anticipation as she placed the note on the bedside table. Tracing her fingertips over the soft, satin blindfold, she couldn’t wait to get started. Bolting off the bed she quickly unpacked her suitcase. She had no idea when Quinn would arrive, but she wasn’t going to dawdle and disappoint him. Earning his rewards was far more fun than netting his punishments.

  After stripping off her clothes, she positioned herself in the center of the bed. As she skimmed her palms over her warm, yielding flesh, goose bumps peppered her limbs. Settling her hands on her breasts, Ava toyed with her nipples. She plucked and pinched the tightly drawn flesh between her fingers and thumbs as a blissful sigh fluttered over her lips. As she tugged at her heavy orbs, ribbons of pleasure tingled up her spine and spooled beneath her clit in an urgent call.