by Shayla Black
God, he couldn’t tell how she felt? Maybe he needed reassuring, just as she did. The thought was a little endearing. “I’m not going to send you packing. I love you, Jon. And I’ve never said those words, either.”
He smiled with his whole face—his whole heart—and even in the shadowy hall, she could see love warming his dark eyes. He cupped her cheek, then lowered his mouth to hers for a sweet, lingering kiss. Joy suffused her, spreading through her like sunlit heat after a long winter. That was probably cheesy and too poetic, but for her, so true. She rubbed her cheek against his and wound her arms around his neck, drawing in that masculine scent of him that was both a comfort and a turn-on.
He kissed her jaw, her nose, her lips one last time. “That makes me really happy, pet. I can’t wait to get deep inside you again and show you how much…just as soon as we address your assumptions and your smart mouth. Drop the towel.”
Lucia felt her eyes flare wide and her breath catch. “If I do, I’ll be…Oh, you want me naked.”
He raised a dark, expectant brow at her.
“Sir,” she added, unwrapping the towel and letting it drop to the floor.
With a dangerous grin, Jon picked it up and tossed it behind him, onto a nearby chair. She stood completely bare under his relentless gaze, a cool, air-conditioned breeze drifting over her skin, making her nipples harden. Just his rapt gaze traveling all over her made her wet. Without a word, the silent seconds ticked by until she felt achy, aroused, and ready. She shifted from one foot to the other, then back again, trying to ease the need.
“Hold still,” he demanded.
“I’ve got this ache…” She grimaced, trying not to move.
“That I just want to make bigger until you get incredibly wet, beg me to fuck you, then scream my name and claw my back as I satisfy you.”
The ache behind Lucia’s clit swelled and throbbed at his words. She sucked in a breath. Pretty please…she wanted to whimper. Instead, she stayed still and ate him up with a hungry stare.
He dragged a thumb across her mouth. “I can’t wait to feel whatever promise is lurking in your eyes. But first, I’ve got three questions for you, Doc.”
She couldn’t help it; she licked at his thumb. “Yes, Sir.”
He gripped her chin and sent her a solemn stare. “Are you willing to remove your great-grandmother’s locket, if I give you something equally meaningful and stunning?”
Her heart stuttered, then chugged in a crazy rhythm. If he meant to give her a symbol of their bond, she was sure her long-dead ancestor would approve. With shaking hands, she reached up and removed the vintage locket. Jon held out his hand, and she set it in the middle of his palm. Carefully, he put it in his trouser pocket, then withdrew a little blue box with the words TIFFANY & CO. on the front and gripped it.
“We don’t have witnesses, but this isn’t any less binding, Doc.” He cupped her cheek and looked into her eyes. “Lucia Rose, will you wear this for me always as a symbol of your promise to honor and obey me, as I care for and cherish you through all our days?”
It took her a moment to process his request. “You’re…asking me to wear your collar?”
“Yes. I’m asking you to be exclusively mine. This is sacred in the BDSM community.”
Even if she hadn’t read about it, she could hear the gravity in his voice. “I know.”
“I’ve never done this. I’ve never wanted to. But you changed everything for me. Will you wear this?”
Lucia bit her lip. Everything she knew about the lifestyle was from fiction. This man had been gentle with her so far, but he had depths he hadn’t shown her yet. A darker side. She felt it, but he’d kept a tight leash on it last night. If she agreed, someday he would spank and flog her, cuff her to his bed and use her in whatever way he wished. He might do any one of a million things that played into her fantasies. And she couldn’t lie; it scared her a little. But deep in her soul, she craved the sort of Master who would care for her. And Jon was offering her everything she could have ever hoped for. Even at his delicious, commanding best, he would see to her safety and pleasure. He would make everything good for her.
Besides, she wasn’t ready to let him go. If this was the way he wanted to continue their relationship, she wouldn’t turn him down.
With her heart racing and joy bursting, she nodded. “I’d love to.”
“Kneel, pet.”
Slowly, there in the narrow hall with Jon’s voice and scent surrounding her, Lucia got to her knees, naked before him. She bowed her head.
He stroked her hair softly, filtering her curls through his fingers just before he fastened something cool and heavy around her neck. “Perfect. I look forward to keeping, protecting, and loving you.” Then he guided her to her feet, opened the bathroom door, and flipped the light on so that she could see the platinum chain with the dangling, diamond-encrusted heart nestled in the hollow of her throat, with a little lock right in the middle.
A smile curled up her lips into something happy. “It’s beautiful.”
“That’s a twenty-four/seven mark of my possession, pet. Don’t take it off without permission.”
She wouldn’t want it any other way. “Yes, Sir. I mean, Master.”
Groaning, he gripped the vanity and pressed his erection into the small of her back. “Hearing that word roll off your sweet tongue is going to get you fucked, pet.”
Lucia giggled. “Promise?”
Pressing kisses along her neck and shoulder, he whispered in her ear, “Absolutely.”
Then his hands roamed up her hips, over her stomach, to cup her breasts and tweak her nipples. The locket rested above them, his glistening stamp of ownership shimmering under the stark lights. She melted against him, feeling sublimely happy.
With a soft curse, he forced himself to step back and reach into his pocket again. He withdrew a little black velvet box, and when he opened it to reveal a beautiful engagement solitaire, she gasped. “Y-You’re asking me to…”
“Marry me, yes. It’s the same question as before, Lucia. The collaring was for us, something private. This is for the rest of the world. But I want you in every way I can get you. Will you make me a very happy man and become my wife?”
“You’re sure you’re ready for this?”
He turned her to face him and cupped her nape with his warm, encompassing palm. “I never forgot you, Lucia. But I told myself I was doing what was best for you. In the last two days, you’ve made me see what I was giving up. If you had gotten away from me again, it would have been like a never-healing wound. I would have come after you again and again until you said yes. Is it too soon for you to make this sort of public statement about us to your family and friends?”
“No. When I met you two years ago, I knew what I wanted. I just wasn’t courageous enough to go after you. This time…” She paused, then sent him a coy smile. “You know I was going back to Vegas just long enough to talk to Nicki, gather my things, and figure out how to hunt you down. I wasn’t letting you get away twice, Jon Bocelli. I was willing to take off all my clothes and beg you.”
“You know just what to say to get my attention, pet.” He groaned, nuzzled her neck, and pressed his cock against her. “So…will you marry me?”
“Of course. I’d be honored.”
He slipped the gorgeous solitaire on her left finger, pressing his forehead to hers briefly. Then he guided her over to the bed, sat down, and held her hands as she stood, watching him.
Lucia frowned. “What’s your third question?”
“Would you rather have your spanking with a bare hand or a paddle? I’ll give you a choice—this time. Don’t get used to it.”
A little thrill raced through Lucia. “Spanking? What for?”
“Planning to leave without talking to me. But if you really just meant to regroup and come back for me, I might be willing to withdraw your punishment. For now.”
She shivered as heat curled through her. A spanking from Jon Bocelli sounded divine. “You
don’t have to do that. Maybe we could try both and see which one I like better?”
With a laugh, he winked at her, then patted his lap. “I like the way you think, pet. Lie here and we’ll try both. If you’re good, there will be an extra reward for you.”
She cupped his face in her hands and brushed a kiss across his mouth. “I’ve already gotten everything I’ve ever wanted. I love you, Jon.”
“I love you, too, Doc. I couldn’t be a happier man now that you’re finally, truly mine.”
Keep reading for a preview of the seductive new novel from the New York Times bestselling author of Falling in Deeper
HOLDING ON TIGHTER
Coming Soon!
Rule for success number one: Pay attention—to the right things.
October
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the wall of windows as Jolie Quinn hustled down the hall of her North Dallas office, ready to make things happen. Which probably meant she had to bust some asses. It wouldn’t be the first time . . . nor the last. But keeping her small, slightly offbeat workforce focused during crunch time was critical.
Her entire future was riding on it.
To her left, Gerard hovered over the latest copy of Vogue. Accessories for the summer collection she desperately needed sat half drawn as he swayed to the rhythm of Mozart blasting through his ear buds. Rohan hunched over his keyboard, his fingers flying, as he scanned his screen, working his eTrade account far more intently than he coded her new website. Wisteria, her receptionist, was fresh from another breakup. She looked somewhere between contemplative and maudlin as she shuffled the mountain of customer records on the credenza behind her. Arthur, her accountant, wasn’t even at his desk. He’d probably hooked up his PlayStation to that little flatscreen in the break room again. And the latest addition to her staff, her gorgeously distracting security contractor, never inhabited his desk. Instead, Heath Powell constantly cased the building and asked questions, watching everything and everyone with a dark, focused stare.
He unnerved her.
Jolie dismissed the thought and got back to business.
Hands on hips, she regarded her assistant designer. “Where are we with the sketches?”
Gerard’s head snapped up as he yanked the buds from his ears, looking like a quintessential Frenchman with Cntinental sensibilities. “I am looking for inspiration. You cannot rush creativity.”
“I have to. You know I don’t have a choice.”
He grimaced as if the situation was out of his control. “Nothing flows as it should, yes?”
She understood. When she’d designed the office attire for the upcoming line, it had come to her quickly. Admittedly, the casual wear had stumped her for weeks.
“Imagination, Gerard. You’ve got it. I need those handbags.” Jolie glanced down at the sketchbook on his desk. “Off the top of my head, these look too much like last summer. Fashion is change. And I want more texture. Let’s review everything you’ve got. My office. Ten minutes.” Conversation over until then, so she turned to Rohan with a raised brow. “Do I pay you to build a website or work your stock portfolio?”
Rohan had already shuttled the day-trading site and retrieved the code he’d previously written. “I took five minutes to investigate an interesting stock tip.”
She hated being lied to.
Jolie leaned into his face. “You were tapping away about the same small cap’s historical data when I took my call in the conference room an hour ago. Planning for the future is important but do you grasp that if my potential investor walks because I can’t show him a working mockup of the new website, we may all be out of a job? It has to be done by Friday. That’s in two days.” She held up a pair of fingers. “If you’ve got some obstacle preventing you from finishing, let me know. I’ll remove it. Otherwise, I don’t have time for your personal financial health during my business crisis.”
“Sorry.” Sweat beaded on Rohan’s olive skin. He swallowed audibly. “You know deadlines freak me out, but I can do it.”
“You can or I wouldn’t have hired you. Show me what you have ready on the new shopping cart and tax tables. My office in thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be there. I think you’ll be pleased with . . .”
Jolie didn’t stay to hear the rest since he would present everything relevant shortly. If the site wasn’t functional and top-notch in time, it could mean the difference between her business flourishing and folding.
As she strode toward her office, she spotted a new pot of red tulips on her sister’s desk and frowned. Karis was often taking in strays. Had she shifted her attention from cats to plants?
With every step, Jolie’s stomach rumbled. Damn, she’d skipped lunch again. Maybe she’d munch on some crackers at her desk while she met with her employees and compiled the presentation for her prospective investor. During their upcoming dinner meeting, she intended to show Richard Gardner a complete strategic plan, new website functionality, current financials, and finished sketches of her summer collection. Right now, she was nowhere near ready. Food really didn’t fit into her schedule.
Of course she hadn’t had time for much of anything in the last four years—not waiting for inspiration, or her personal finances, and certainly not fun or games or romance. After waiting tables to put herself through FIT in NYC, she’d earned a bachelor’s in fashion design. Then she’d gone straight for her MBA, focusing on merchandising, and studied feverishly to graduate at the top of her class.
Afterward, Jolie had refused eight high-profile job offers. They had been flattering but she’d already spent enough time building someone else’s name during her internships, thank you. Her dream had never been about working her way up from the bottom or limiting her income based on someone else’s arbitrary pay structure.
So she had forged a different path, starting her own line of chic yet comfortable fashion for women of all sizes. She’d also launched a completely different distribution channel at the same time, merchandising exclusively through home-based parties. So far it was working because her company had grown ten-fold in the last four years. Jolie had recently been named an up-and-coming designer by Fashionista and one of the top ten businesspeople to watch in Dallas. A popular nighttime drama would begin dressing their popular, stylish heroine, played by Shealyn West, in pieces from her spring collection after their winter hiatus. Sales were predicted to skyrocket.
Jolie intended to build Betti into a brand as recognizable as Coke, as sought after as Apple, and as far reaching as Starbucks.
It was a tall order for a thirty-year-old-woman short on capital. She needed this investor and all the building blocks in place to take the next step.
She didn’t want to think about what would happen if she failed.
Jolie ducked around the corner and peeked into the break room. Sure enough, Arthur was shooting a blue laser at both feral ghouls and raider scum in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Currently, his character was fighting off a horde of enemies, along with radiation sickness.
“Arthur?”
He didn’t turn to her, just pressed buttons on his controller like a madman. “Um, yeah. Two minutes. I’m almost done with these guys.”
“You’re done now.”
Her accountant performed a quicksave, pausing the game, then turned to her with a sheepish expression. He shoved the shaggy brown hair from his face and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Slender, brilliant, and a bit on the anxious side, he often seemed more like a slouchy college student than a CPA pushing thirty. “Sorry. I get involved. It’s just that RooskieGamer posted some great YouTube video about how to defeat these guys and earn a trophy. I wanted to test it out.”
“After hours. At home. I need the financials ready for my investor meeting ASAP.”
“They’re almost done,” he assured her.
“I want to review them at tomorrow’s staff meeti
ng.”
“Totally.” He peeked nervously back at the TV, as if the screaming goons and trigger-happy baddies could somehow reach through the screen and annihilate him while he wasn’t looking. “I’ll have it done by end of business today.”
“Good.” She turned away, then thought of one more thing. “Don’t spend the evening here playing that crap. Seriously. Go home.”
He frowned. “My roommate is constantly shagging his girlfriend. They’re so loud.”
And Arthur was annoyed because he wasn’t getting any. Not her problem.
“Turn up the volume on your game. The screeching ghouls alone will kill their mood,” Jolie suggested.
“But—”
“No. Last time you stayed here all evening, you cooked raw fish wrapped in foil in the microwave. The place almost caught fire and reeked for days.”
Not to mention that she’d had to buy a new microwave.
“I’m not much of a cook.” He pushed his glasses up again. “I’ll leave by six.”
Mission accomplished, she gave him a sharp nod and turned for the door.
“Jolie, before you go, I’ve got a question. Ten minutes, tops.”
“Do you need an answer to finish your part of the presentation for my investor?”
“N-no. But I—”
“Then let’s talk next week. I’ve got more meetings now. Sorry. Everything else is back burner at the moment.”
Jolie didn’t wait for him to object, because it was probably another one of his causes like cleaner urinals or organic coffee. She headed to her office.
On the way, she passed Wisteria at her desk. “All that paper has to be scanned, filed, and locked inside the proper cabinet by the end of the day. I know you have a lot on your mind but customers’ addresses and credit card numbers shouldn’t be lying around. If we mishandle their personal and financial information, they’ll shop elsewhere.”
