by Tara Sue Me
“I had a call from Orson last weekend,” Evan said. “He’s always had plans to open places like the ranch. He asked me after graduation to go in with him on his Vegas venture. I didn’t. I had too many student loans, that sort of thing. When he called last weekend, he indicated he was still looking for a business partner and wanted to know if I was interested.”
She remembered him saying they had been college roommates, but didn’t recall anything about a business proposition.
“I’m much better off financially now,” Evan said. “My loans have been repaid and I’ve made some good investments. I live simply. So I told him yes. The way I see it, why not? I’m young and don’t have any kids. Besides, the woman I love is there.”
“Where?”
“In Texas,” he said. “It’s not Dallas, but it’s a hell of a lot closer than Wilmington.”
“You’re moving to Texas.” The words tasted foreign on her tongue but with time, she would get used to them. She repeated his words in her head, and then out loud. “You’re moving to Texas and you love me.”
“I do, Kelly, and the long distance thing is killing me. I probably should have told you but I thought it’d be a nice surprise.”
A nice surprise.
Before Evan, she’d have augured that there was no such thing. And though she claimed to hate surprises, being with Evan meant a new surprise almost every day. Maybe they weren’t as bad as she thought.
She moved into his lap and straddled him. “It’s more than a nice surprise. It’s the best ever surprise. And here’s another one: I love you, too.”
“That’s no surprise, K,” he said, his eyes teasing her. “I knew from the moment you first called me dickwad it was only a matter of time.”
She punched his shoulder. “You did not.”
“Okay, maybe not the first time.”
“You are so full of it.”
“Spank me.”
She pulled back to study his expression. “You know better.”
“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.”
“Then I must see to it you do in the future.”
She lowered her head to kiss him and saw snippets of their future flash behind her closed eyes. They would never be like their friends. Neither of them would ever wear the other’s collar. Any use of ‘Master’ or ‘Mistress’ would be limited to whatever scene they were in.
No one would know what to call them and that was fine.
The best things she was learning, were undefinable.
Epilogue
Evan hoped Kelly wasn’t going to ask him again if he was sure he wanted to do this because if she did, he’d end up spanking her, and that was not how this afternoon was supposed to go. At the moment, he was on his knees in the living room of the cottage he’d stayed in over the summer. He’d moved back into it following his move to Texas a month ago.
At the time his plan had been to look for a permanent place to live, but that had been before Orson offered Kelly a job as the head of his security team. She hadn’t decided one way or the other. Until she did, he’d put his house hunting on hold. The hope being if she said yes, that they would move in together.
The sound of heels clicking against hardwoods drove all thoughts but one from his mind.
Fucking hell, she had her boots on.
Ordinarily, he’d drink in the sight of her for as long as he wanted, but he couldn’t at present. Fortunately, she walked close enough to where he knelt that he could see the leather toes. He bit back a moan. She probably had her leather corset on, too.
“Well now,” Kelly said, and the tip of what he assumed was a riding crop traced the line of his spine. “It looks like someone is happy.”
He was naked. If he wanted to lie about how hard he was at the moment, it would be impossible. But she hadn’t asked him a question, so he stayed still and silent.
“And it appears as if someone is trying to be very good.” The crop went back up his spine. “Too bad you’ve already earned a spanking. Although, if you behave and continue to be good, I might do something about that hard dick. Would you like that?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, his heart beating like mad.
Just as he would never be her Master, she would never be his Mistress. They had agreed to use “Sir” and “Ma’am” at times such as this.
“Very nice,” she said. “Stand and bend over, placing your hands on your knees or thighs. Whichever is more comfortable. However, you do not have permission to look at me. Understand?”
What? He had to stop from saying. Why couldn’t he look at her?
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said anyway. He understood what she wanted him to do, or, in this case, what she didn’t want him to do, he just didn’t understand why.
But as he rose to his feet, it hit him that at this particular time it wasn’t his place to understand. All she required of him was obedience.
It was a freeing revelation.
He had never placed a sub in the position Kelly asked him to take. Once he was in place with his feet shoulder width apart and hands on his knees, he wondered why that was. He didn’t have to see himself to know what an awesome position it was for the Top. As for the bottom? Being bent over the way he was, he knew exactly how vulnerable it felt.
“I like you this way.” Kelly was all around him as she spoke. Her hands ran across his back even as her words washed over him. “All quiet and compliant.”
She reached his ass and raked her nails across his backside. She kept her nails short and trimmed but somehow he still felt them. And damn they felt good. He closed his eyes, but that didn’t stop his awareness of how much harder he grew.
An awareness Kelly shared. “Looks like I’m not the only one who likes it.”
The first slap of her hand on his ass caught him off guard with the strength behind it, and he almost broke position. Fortunately, he caught himself in time. The second one he was prepared for. By the fifth one, he wanted to have a nice face-to-face with the Evan that told her she hit like a girl. No, he would tell that Evan, she hit like a woman, and women hit just like men, the difference was, you weren’t expecting it, and that’s why it felt harder. By the tenth one, he decided, no, that wasn’t it. Women hit harder. And by the time he’d counted fifteen, he didn’t care one way or the other because instead of number sixteen, she went back to using her nails and all he could concentrate on was not coming on himself.
“I didn’t know it was possible for you to get any harder.” Kelly gave his cock a squeeze, and he almost bit his tongue off in an attempt not to spew all over her hand. “I was wrong.”
He wondered if that was all she had planned. Part of him hoped it was because her touch on him was so fucking good, he’d promise her anything to feel it again. But part of him hoped it wasn’t because he was on a high like he’d never experienced.
She moved to stand behind him. “Lift your head and stare at the smoke detector on the ceiling.”
She wasn’t done. He lifted his head and found the smoke detector. When she slapped the crop against his upper thighs, he bit back a moan.
“You didn’t think I was finished with you, did you?” she teased.
This time, even though she used a crop, she went lighter on him than she did with her hands. In many ways it was worse because after every few strikes of the crop, she’d use her hands and sensually tease his flesh.
He was the only passenger on a runaway train and he was getting ready to run out of track.
“Please, Ma’am,” he begged. “I need to come.”
“No.” She ran a finger from behind his cock to his ass. Ah fuck. “Quiet,” she said even though he didn’t remember saying anything out loud. “Maybe one day I’ll fuck your ass. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
Before today the answer would have been a resounding no. Now he wasn’t so sure he’d hate it and part of him was already certain he’d love it.
“I think you’ve been pretty good, so I’ve decided to let you come. Do you want my mout
h or my hand?”
“Your mouth, Ma’am.”
He felt her walk around him. She hadn’t told him to stop looking at the smoke detector so he wasn’t able to watch her walk, but he pictured it in his head.
“Look at me,” she finally said.
He dropped his head, and nearly came on the spot.
He’d been right about the boots, but wrong about everything else. She wasn’t wearing a corset. She wasn’t wearing anything other than the boots.
“Holy fuck you’re gorgeous, Ma’am. I almost feel as if looking at you is rewarding enough.”
She gave a soft laugh. “I don’t have to blow you if you’d rather I not.”
“No way,” he said. “I believe my words were almost enough.”
“So you did,” she said, sinking to her knees before him and not giving him a chance to catch his breath before taking him into her mouth.
Later that night as they sat outside on his private patio watching the stars come out, she turned to him. “I’ve decided I’m going to accept Orson’s offer.”
His heart sang and he felt like she had lifted a weight off him. “I’m so glad,” he told her. “That was what I was hoping you would do.”
“You know this means we'll have to find a place to live we can both agree on.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think that’ll be hard?”
“You have met us, haven’t you?” She laughed.
“I don’t think it’ll be that hard. After all, look at what we’ve already been through.”
“I want a pink bathroom.”
“Oh hell, no. Not a pink bathroom.” Was she serious?
“See what I mean? We don’t agree on anything.”
He reached for her hand and pulled her into his lap. “You’re wrong,” he said. “We’re completely in agreement on what counts. I can’t explain it with words though, I’ll have to show you. And it’ll take some time. I’m thinking the next forever or two.”
She ran her fingers into his hair. “Lucky for you, I happen to be free for the next forever or two.”
“Lucky for us,” he whispered before sealing their words with a kiss.
Kiara and Orson will return late 2019! Don’t miss it, sign up for my newsletter here.
Acknowledgments
I didn’t want to write this book.
I’m not sure why. I’d always had a lot of fun writing Evan and Kelly in the past. Maybe it was because they were both Tops and I wasn’t sure how that was going to work out. Maybe it was because I feared they wouldn’t be any fun once they stopped fighting. Maybe it was because it was getting to be such a long time since the last Submissive Series novel, I thought people would either have forgotten it (“Submissive, who?”) or that they’d roll their eyes (“Another one? You’ve got to be kidding me.”)
But, you. Yes, you, the readers of the series, would not let go of Evan and Kelly. You were determined that they get their happily-ever-after and you weren’t afraid to let me know. Eventually, I decided to stop fighting and instead to get busy writing. After all, you are my audience, and if people have forgotten about the series, maybe this would be a pleasant reminder. And to those who roll their eyes?
Well, I’m made of tougher stuff.
Besides, I’m finding in my old age it’s a lot more fun to do whatever the hell I want and ignore those that think I can be stopped with an eye roll.
So there I was, writing a book I didn’t really want to but determined to make myself do it, when the craziest thing happened.
I began to like it. It became fun. And then the most craziest thing happened.
I fell in love with Evan and Kelly.
Trust me, no one was more surprised than me.
Those that know me know I don’t do much of an outline, but as I’ve matured as a writer, I always feel like it’s one of those things I should do. I attempted to ‘outline’ once again while writing this and, as always, it changed every other day. I’ve learned to just go with it. I always assume it’s the characters telling me how things really happened and they’ve never steered me wrong.
I hope you enjoyed reading Evan and Kelly’s story. It was a joy to write and I’m certain it’s not the last we’ve heard from these two.
Finally, as an author who has written and continues to write primarily BDSM fiction, one of the first questions I’m always asked is whether I’m in the lifestyle or if I have been in the past. The answer to both questions is no. However, I’ve had many excellent teachers. Because of confidentiality, I won’t name you here, but you know who you are. I thank you for the gift of your advice and experiences.
Tara
WALL STREET ROYALS
“…so damn HOT and intense, what an amazing start to a series…”
The Sassy Nerd Review on FOK
Conquer. Control. Command. They have. They are. They will. They are the Wall Street Royals, men at the top of their game who are about to be mastered by the one thing they never counted on: love.
Don’t miss this seductively sexy new series by New York Times bestselling author Tara Sue Me.
FOK, Wall Street Royals Book One
Chapter One
In her mind, Celeste Walsh was a badass. She never backed down, never averted her gaze first, and never took shit from anyone.
In reality, however, though she refused to be a doormat, she had yet to blossom into full-blown badassery. The closest she’d been able to get was to perfect the art of remaining utterly calm in the face of anything. Her roommate, Reagan, told her it was her superpower. Celeste had snorted and said if that was true, she wanted to exchange it for something useful, like mind reading or invisibility.
Although, she had to admit that today this odd superpower could come in handy. She was auditioning for a scholarship, but that wasn’t anything new. In fact, this was her eleventh scholarship audition. What made this audition different was that it would be the last. Last audition. Her last hope.
If she didn’t score this scholarship, she wouldn’t be attending Juilliard in the fall. Which would also mean no longer being able to stay in New York. She’d be on a bus headed back home to Middle-of-Nowhere Virginia. Upon arrival, her parents would put her to work, either washing dishes or bussing tables at the family’s farm to table restaurant.
She shivered, determined to get this one.
“Hey, Celeste,” one of her fellow applicants, Erin, said.
Celeste smiled and greeted the young woman in a similar financial situation as her own. They’d auditioned at many of the same scholarships and had received rejections from the same ones. There were a few they hadn’t heard from yet.
“Did you hear?” Erin asked, her eyes dancing the way they did when she wanted to share the latest juicy gossip.
“Probably not.” Celeste rarely listened to gossip or watched the news. Her life revolved around the violin. Violin. School. Violin. She possessed little time for anything else in her life. And she didn’t apologize or make excuses for it. Especially with the new piece she planned for today's audition.
“Barbara Murphy is in the hospital,” Erin said.
“Really?” Celeste asked. That wasn’t gossip. Barbara Murphy headed and funded the scholarship they were auditioning for today, in memory of her daughter. Melinda Murphy had been a pianist and had also attended Juilliard years ago when she was younger. She’d died young, but Celeste wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard how. “Who’s running the audition?”
“No one I’ve talked with knows.”
They both turned to look at the auditorium doors. The first group to audition, vocalists, had entered only five minutes ago. It wasn’t long before the doors opened and three guys walked out.
“Fucking asshole,” the tallest one said and the other two nodded and murmured in agreement.
“Who’s running the audition with Mrs. Murphy in the hospital?” Someone nearby asked.
“Her grandson,” the tall guy answered. “Some Wall Street hotshot who doesn’t know shit about the
arts.”
The trio of vocalists left amid a growing rumble of discontent. A discontent that, unfortunately, remained in their wake. However, Celeste felt no need to continue talking about the grandson she couldn’t do anything about. She retreated to her corner of the room and tried to tune out the noise around her like she always did, by picturing herself playing the violin.
Knowing this was her last audition and one of the largest scholarships offered, she’d changed her audition piece. The composer wasn’t as well know as the ones her competition would play, nor was the piece itself known by very many outside the music world. If this grandson was as clueless as the vocalist had alluded to, should she play something more well known?
She forced herself to breathe deep and calm. As she did, the music she needed to play made itself known. When a harried assistant called for her group, Celeste rose from her seat, lost in the calm, ready to play, and with no worries about a grandson who may or may not know the difference between a violin and a cello.
Lance Braxton cut the violinist off after nine seconds of playing. “That’s enough. Next!”
Beside him, his grandmother’s personal assistant, Richard, sighed and signaled for a ten minute break. Lance raised an eyebrow at him, and Richard took a deep breath before turning to address the man at his side. “Mr. Braxton, you can’t cut them off like that. You must allow them to finish playing.”
Lance placed his pen on the table, so it lined up exactly parallel to the pad it was next to. Only when he was certain it rested precisely where he wanted, did he turn to the man his grandmother said she couldn't operate without. “Richard,” he said slowly, as if gathering his thoughts. Which he wasn’t. “Perhaps you have nothing better to do today than to sit here and listen to Tchaikovsky over and over, but some of us have actual work to do.”
