by Kira Blakely
Heat flared through my belly, and my heart quickened. “Yes, you are, which reminds me,” I said, leaning close to him and rubbing my nose against his. “Is there a playroom? It’s been a while since we’ve had a session, Master.”
“Are you ready for a negotiation?” he said, his voice rumbling low in his chest.
I nodded and nibbled at his lips, capturing his lower one between my teeth as he liked, eliciting a noise from him that could only be described as feral. “I’m always up for that. Besides, we have to lay out the ground rules on weekends so I don’t fail out of school.”
Drake ran a hand through my hair. “I know a place in the Bahamas. It rehabilitates cute baby seals and dolphins. The guy who owns it can be a bit of a hard ass, but I think you’re a shoe-in.”
I snorted. “I don’t want a handout, Drake. I can do this, and I can be great at it. So, this swanky apartment might be amazing, but consider yourself on a sex diet, mister.”
“I’m going to starve to death! A guy has needs.” He winked at me and led me down the hall to a room locked behind a massive ebony door.
Drake McManus and subtlety were not on a first-name basis with each other.
He pulled out an actual skeleton key and unlocked the door. “After me, princess.”
Dutifully, falling into the spirit of the scene, I followed him into the room. This one was painted a deep scarlet and the bed was a California king, bigger than even the set up in the Bahamas. The walls were decorated with the usual whips, crops, scarves, and ropes. My clit throbbed just to see it and my breath got more frantic.
After over a year with Drake, I craved the BDSM and the play part of our relationship as much as he did, maybe even more. While he needed some control in a life that had been marred by tragedy and the unpredictable—by loss and pain—I needed to submit once in a while. Usually, I argued back against him as good as I got, but the scenes together allowed me to relax, to take on a different role with him than I would or could outside of these four walls.
Away from our sanctuary.
The only new thing in this set up was the St. Andrew’s Cross in the middle of the room. He’d showed me a few online, and I knew he’d thought about getting one, but somehow it still surprised me to see the two blackboards, crossed over each other like a giant “X” in the center of the room.
“Did you have something specific in mind to christen the room, Master?” I asked in a playful voice as I smirked up at him.
“I do, princess,” he said, walking over to a table and pulling out the familiar velvet box. I didn’t realize he’d brought my collar from Los Angeles, but that only made sense. “Present your neck.”
I did as he asked, my hand sweeping my hair up almost automatically at the sound of his voice. “Always.”
He slipped the diamond-studded collar on my neck and clasped it underneath my hairline. Running a hand over the little exposed skin of my throat, he kissed my lips. He tasted of the scotch he’d drunk in the limo but also of cinnamon, of something tangy and burning underneath the surface. There was the sharp hint of his cologne in the air but underlying it all was that tantalizing hint of musk that defined him, so powerful and so utterly male.
When he pulled back, he led me to the cross. “Follow me, princess.”
I leaned against the board, letting my legs straddle out and raising my arms over my head so that he could bind my ankles and wrists to the cross. When he was done, I was naked and spread-eagled before him. My body was upright and waiting for any touch or punishment he cared to dole out.
“Master?” I asked, waiting patiently for him to respond. In the room, it was rare I addressed him first, unless, of course, I was begging.
“What?” he asked, as he slipped off his shirt.
I gasped and reveled in the view, in the way his jeans dipped low on his waist, exposing the deep V of his hips. My eyes traced over his abs at the gorgeous lines and ripples of his eight pack that ended in his thick, well-defined pecs. The scar barely registered anymore, and most of it, even now, was covered by the denim of his jeans. Currently, what I could see was a long, pale line that reared up from his waistline and lingered over his side, drifting lazily over a lower rib. It only served to make him more rugged, especially since I knew the story behind it.
Knew him for the hero he was.
Licking my lips, I couldn’t wait to have him touch me. Everything about his embrace was magic.
“Master,” I started again, “am I being punished?”
“No, princess,” he said, his tone soft and enticing. Drake went back to the table and pulled out a glove. This was a furred one as well but not the soft white of the usual rabbit fur he preferred. Drake sauntered over to me then, like a jungle cat, lean and in control, stalking his prey. “Do you know what this is?” he asked, running the glove over my stomach and then lingering with it over my breasts.
The texture was warm and thick but also almost slick.
“I… no?”
He squeezed my breast. “No, what?”
“No, Master.”
“It’s mink. Pure mink, soft, and waiting for you,” he said, running his gloved hand over my stomach and then the crest of my hips. He stopped with it just over the apex of my thighs and over the curls of hair over my mons. “Do you know why?”
I shook my head.
“Because, princess,” he continued, reaching between my parted legs and teasing the fur over the lips of my labia. I moaned and pulled against my bonds, both frustrating and turned on by my bindings. “You’re a goddess, and you deserve to be worshiped.”
Drake slipped to his knees before me and set the glove down on the floor. With both hands now freed, he ran his lightly calloused palms over my thighs. I mewled at his ministrations, at the caresses. He leaned up and blew on my sensitive lips and the heat teased me, made me desperate for his touch, for the expert stroking of his tongue on my clit.
“Please, Master. I need you.”
He grinned up at me, a look that should be illegal in all fifty states. For all I knew, it already was. “Shh, princess, don’t you know that patience is a virtue?” he said, taking just one finger and parting my folds.
“Oh, God!”
“Oh, I’m better than him,” he said, chuckling and sliding one forefinger into my channel.
Flames seemed to lap at me from my core, a simmering fire starting to flare in my belly and spread through my limbs and my fingers and toes. He slid in and out with that one finger, teasing my slick folds and my core as he did it. But while he had talented, thick fingers, just one wasn’t close to his huge girth.
Staring down at him, looking into those playful chocolate eyes, I begged, “I need more, Master.”
“Do you?” he asked, sliding two more fingers inside. He brought up his other hand to press a broad thumb to my clit. I howled and ground as best against him as I could, frustrated at first that I couldn’t get leverage. “There, princess,” he continued, pressing his thumb tighter against my clit and rubbing it counterclockwise.
I moaned and writhed under his grip, the flames licking at me growing stronger, like a forest fire sweeping through me, tearing down everything in its path until all that existed was the heat and the passion. Closing my eyes, I let the sensations crest over me—the smell of his musk, the ragged panting of my own breath in my ears, the leather of the cross’s arms rubbing against my back.
Time stood still here, until only us and the passion always burning between us existed.
Drake plunged deep inside of me and pressed his thumb just right against my clit. I came then with a force that left me shuddering in my bonds. It was if a can of gasoline had been poured over me and the flames were consuming me whole, like a phoenix burned down to the ashes before being reborn.
I might have passed out just a little.
When I woke, I was curled up in the bed with Drake, who was wiping me off gently with a cool, wet rag. “Welcome back to the world,” he said, his tone betraying his casual posture. Th
ere was a hint of worry there.
Rolling my eyes, I leaned up and kissed him. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Drake,” I said, rubbing his chest. “We already had one person up on a cross today. You don’t need to join me. I loved it.”
“I didn’t ever make you pass out before.”
“Well, then it was only for a couple minutes, and you should probably be proud of it. Not that the sex hasn’t been great before, but you broke your own record.”
He laughed and kissed me, the scruff of his chin scraping against my tender skin. “What can I say, princess. I’m an animal.”
***
“Do you want another glass of wine?” Drake asked.
I sighed and leaned back in the hot tub. I’d already had two glasses of white wine, and I technically should be reviewing for a quiz in three days. I was enjoying my fall break, sure, but it was so hard to focus with a literal Adonis tempting me every minute. I was going to have to work harder to lay out those ground rules, definitely.
I shook my head and set my glass down. Then I tightened the tie on my bikini. “I think I need to be clear headed. After dinner tonight, I do need to study.”
He chuckled and kissed my collarbone. “Do you need an anatomy review? That happened to be my best subject in school.”
“Somehow, I think that’s a come-on.”
Drake laughed again and ran a hand up my right thigh under the water. “Always, but you have to admit that I have a talent with your body.”
“That, I don’t doubt,” I said, my gaze falling out onto the sunset before us on his yacht.
That was also a new addition. Drake was going all out into moving part time to San Diego. He had the penthouse complete with the required and, in my opinion, improved playroom. Drake had also acquired a yacht from a tech guru gone bust that was roughly the size of my parents’ home. We were sitting on the south deck and watching the sun go down. The orange of the waning globe melted into the soft, cotton candy clouds and the pink of the sky.
It was quite the sight, but it paled next to the utter spectacle of the man I loved by my side.
“I know I say this a lot, but this is amazing.”
“You don’t say it that much.” Drake considered that and then shrugged. “Maybe sometimes, but I put a lot of effort into trying to surprise you. I take my mission very seriously.”
“I can tell because you never stop, never fall short.”
“I hope that’s true,” he said, his tone sobering as he leaned back next to me in the hot tub.
“Why do you seem so sad all of a sudden?”
Drake’s jaw clenched, a sure sign of his tension. Readjusting my position, I brought my arms up behind his back and started to rub his shoulders, wanting to massage him to relieve his stress. It genuinely shocked me how tightly coiled he was, how rigid.
“Wow, work must have been rough last week,” I said. “Because you are still knotted up like crazy.”
“I think it’s from right now, actually.”
“Why? This couldn’t be a better day. It’s a dream date, even if I do have a quiz to study for.”
Drake shook his head. “Maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged you to go back to school. I had no idea you were the ultimate type A.”
I kissed his cheek. “You’d seen me actually negotiate on figures and how I’d press you for days. You so knew I was type A. Of course, I worry about grades, totally natural.”
“Or obsessive,” he noted.
“So, it’s not work that has you tied up in knots. What else is it? Did you have a call from home?”
He had a terrible relationship with his parents, even after he had paid off their debts. The salt of the earth farmers were never going to understand that he’d dedicated his life to all that “Hollywood Sodom and Gomorrah.” Still, his dad had recently developed a bit of a gambling problem, so Drake was getting more calls than usual from the Midwest. It left him in a funk.
“God, no. It’s not about my family, not in that way.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “How is it about your family?”
“Belle, do you think about what we’ll do in a year from now or five?”
I blushed and poked at his rib. “I don’t even know if Dear Penthouse can predict that.” Seeing that the joke didn’t ease his tension, I sobered and tried a different tactic. “I guess I’ll get a job when I’m done, actually be of use now to the center in the Bahamas. Why?”
Drake didn’t say anything, but he did slip out from my grasp and hop quickly from the tub. I appreciated that he had not worn a suit. The sight of his penis bobbing free was something to behold. I pushed that flicker of lust away. Now wasn’t the time; something serious was clearly on Drake’s mind.
When he returned, he had a fluffy white bathrobe on and his right hand was balled in a fist at his side. Then he knelt in front of me, and I just knew.
“Belle,” he started, his voice wavering just a little, as if I’d ever say no. “This last year has been the best one of my life, minus a few rough spots.”
I nodded, saying nothing at first but reflecting too over the rough parts in our relationship and over the dangers we’d faced. It hadn’t been easy, not by a long shot, but it had been good.
He held out his arm and popped open the small, black box hidden there. I gasped at the ring, the princess-cut diamond that had to be at least five carats and set in a platinum band. I’d look like a movie star with something that glittery on my finger. Heck, considering the rich and famous he ran with, for all I knew, some director or Hollywood big wig actually had recommended this jeweler and ring type.
So surreal compared to where I was a year ago.
“Belle, I love you. I think I might have loved you from the moment I first saw you. You see all of me—the dark side, that beast and man—and you love me more for it, not less. I don’t want anyone else to be my lover, my partner, or my life. Will you marry me?”
Tears sprang to my eyes as I held out my hand. “Yes, God, a thousand times yes!”
He grinned and slipped the ring on my wedding finger. I stepped out carefully from the hot tub and was grateful when he slipped a terry cloth towel over my shoulders. Now that the sun was almost down, it was growing chilly on the boat, especially with the sea breeze whipping past us.
Reaching down, he stroked—or tried to—my wet curls. “You’re the most amazing woman I know, Belle Fontaine.”
“Well, that happens to even out,” I said. “You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met.” Then I stroked his cheek and looked solemnly into his big brown eyes. We never talked about certain things enough, but tonight I needed to be honest with him, to press where I could. “In fact, you’re a hero.”
Drake looked down, uncomfortable. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” I said, putting my fingers under his chin and forcing him to look at me. “I know you don’t believe that, and maybe you never will, but you were a hero to give your service, and you’ll always be my hero. You saved my life twice in the first month I met you, threw yourself into danger all for me. That’s not just a hero. To me, that’s a damn superhero.”
“But I—”
I kissed him then, my tongue and body saying everything my words never could, conveying the gratitude and dedication that he would always command from me. Drake was my lover and my hero, and one day soon, my husband.
And that meant the world to me.
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Faking For Her
*Amazon Top 50 Best-seller, 4.8 stars, 275 reviews!*
I needed a girlfriend, so I bought one.
Well, I tried, but Shawna’s not the compliant type.
She’s sassy, full of spice, and everything nice.
Not to mention an a@s any man would die for.
But, in Vegas, anything is possible.
Because in this town, I’m a f#@king boss.
Unfortunately, a company I’ve been trying to buy won’t give me the time of day because they don’t TRUST ME. For f#@k’s sake!
I need a girlfriend to show I’m steady and trustworthy.
Shawna is the perfect candidate and one of the only waitresses at my casino who hasn’t slept with me.
And she’s just been evicted from her apartment because of her stalker ex-boyfriend.
Perfect timing!
She needs my money and protection. I need her soft body in my arms.
Shawna, will you be my... fake girlfriend?
Chapter One
Oh hell, not again. Shawna Peterson pushed her auburn curls off her shoulders, straightened her back and balanced the silver tray in her left hand before pasting a smile on her face and heading to the Blackjack table. She took the long route to avoid the unwanted visitor sitting at the opposite end of the bar, her steps slow and deliberate. One foot in front of the other, girl. Pretend he isn’t even here. Easier said than done, though.
Pearce Worthington had shown up during her shift every day for the past two weeks. To harass her. To badger her into getting back together with him. And when none of those worked, to threaten her if she continued to deny him the one thing he wanted right now—her sensual curves, the way her waist nipped in to exaggerate her hourglass figure. He wasn’t the first guy to take in her burlesque curves and get the wrong idea, but this was getting ridiculous.
His behavior had moved past annoying and into the realm of stalkerish. Which made no sense at all, given how their relationship of just over a month had ended. She’d shown up at his apartment, finally using the key he’d given her much too early on, deciding it was time to take things to the next level. She’d meant to surprise him, and she certainly had. She’d caught him fucking not one, but two sluts. She’d simply turned and walked away, completely over it.