by Grant, Livia
And in this moment, that only adds to the sex appeal.
I stroke my palms over the bulging muscles on his chest. It’s covered in golden hair, soft and curling under my fingers. When I bite one of his pecs, he pins my wrists beside my head and thrusts hard between my legs.
“Have you been fucked up against a wall, kotyonok?” Another hard thrust. I feel his straining cock below his jeans.
I shake my head no.
“We’ll start there, then.” He pulls a condom out of his back pocket and unbuttons his jeans. We both watch as he rolls the rubber over his straining length. He pulls one of my knees up and rubs over my wet slit.
I moan when he sinks into me. I nip his ear.
“Da. Give me the claws, kitten. I knew you were fierce.”
I’ve never considered myself fierce in the bedroom. In the courtroom, sure. But my sexual history involved way too much anxiety for losing myself to passion.
His encouragement spurs me on. I wend my arms around his neck and score him with my nails.
“Wrap those long legs around my waist now.”
I lift my other foot from the floor. The Russian palms my ass, fingers digging into my flesh as he drives into me. My back presses against the wall, holding up some of my weight as he manages the rest of it.
“Squeeze my dick tight,” he tells me.
It’s not an instruction I’ve ever been given before, but I contract my muscles around him, practicing my kegels as he snarls in pleasure.
“That’s right, kitten. So tight.”
I’m dizzy with pleasure, and shocked at the animalistic way we’re going at it. How quickly we got from point A to point B. How far from my norm this whole night has been.
“Do you think I’ll let you come like this?” he growls against my ear.
My breath stops for a moment as those words wash through me. Right. There’s this whole thing of asking permission to orgasm. A dominant owns your pleasure.
Does he want me to beg?
“Please?” I ask, far more willing to beg than I would’ve been two hours ago.
He smiles—a genuine smile that makes him appear ten years younger. “Nyet.”
I gasp, driving my nails into his shoulders. “What do you mean, nyet?”
“It means no.”
“Yes, I gathered that but—”
“Not yet, kitten. I have you for forty more minutes. You think I’m going to let you come in our first position?”
First... position?
Oh lord. This man is sex on a stick.
Knowing there will be more—much more—I relax into it. Of course, that makes me harder to hold up.
He lifts me away from the wall and drops me to my feet. As soon as I land, he spins me around and pushes me over the arm of the loveseat in the room. “Spread your legs.”
I wait, expecting him to enter me again from behind, but instead I feel the sharp sting of the flogger, swung like a whip this time.
I gasp, my pussy clenching on air. “Ouch!”
He whips me again.
And again.
After six smacks, my skin gets used to the contact of the flogger. My ass gets warm and stingy. My core grows molten.
This.
This is why submissives crave pain. I understand now, because I only want more. Each slap of the flogger sends lust kicking through my body. Winds the coil of desire tighter.
He changes the way he uses the flogger, swinging it in circles—or maybe it’s a figure eight. The tips glance off the globes of my ass like the strands of an automatic car wash mop moving around the car.
It’s... divine.
Barely a sting. So much heat and pleasure.
He moves to my thighs, then my shoulders. I love every bit of it.
When he flicks the flogger between my open legs, though, I squeal.
“Keep them open.” The command is guttural. His accent thicker.
I love knowing I’m having an effect on him.
I slide the stilettos wider. I’ve never felt so sexy in my life. Every part of me is alive. Activated. Singing.
He flicks the flogger between my legs again.
I catch my breath at the sting, then moan.
“Stand up.”
It takes my brain a moment to process the order, and I find myself mildly disappointed at the change. Every time I’m starting to sink into something, he shifts it. I suppose that’s part of the strategy.
“Face me. Hands interlaced on top of your head.”
My brows shoot up, but I comply. He’s earned my trust now. Besides, I left my pride behind somewhere between the first and second spin of the wheel.
The position lifts and spreads my breasts, presenting them to him.
He nudges my foot. “Spread your legs wider.”
Oh God. I widen my stance. Now I’m really presented to him. Buck naked, nothing but my heels. Standing before him like I’m under arrest. Or I’m a slave up for auction.
And that thought shouldn’t get me so wet.
He begins to spin the flogger again. Yes—it’s a figure eight motion—and this time spins the tips of the flogger across my breasts. My nipples harden and stand up under the abuse, the pink darkening along with the rest of my skin.
Again, it’s wonderful. Everything I thought a flogger would be, and more.
He smiles. “You like it.”
“Yes.” I whisper it.
He flicks down my belly and across the front of my hips. “I like it when you whisper yes like that. Next time say it in Russian.”
“Da,” I tell him.
His smile grows wider, cock bobbing in the cradle of his unzipped jeans.
“You are as smart as you are beautiful, kotyonok. I’m glad I came here tonight. Glad I got to play with you.”
“I’m glad, too,” I murmur.
He reaches for the bag and produces a small jewelry box. I watch as he reveals a pair of—oh shit—nipple clamps. I’m not sure I like this idea.
My nipples are warm and tingly from the flogging. He opens one clamp. I flinch when he brings it over my nipple.
“Inhale, kitten.”
I obey.
He closes the clamp. I gasp at the pain. My clit throbs in response. He repeats the action with the second clamp.
I let out a long, slow whimper.
He takes my hand off the top of my head and winds his fingers through mine, drawing me over to the couch. He sits down and pulls me across his lap and smacks my ass.
He’s recapping where we’ve been, I realize. First the flogging, now the spanking. And I appreciate the reminder. Because it’s so very different the second time. I was reluctant before.
Now I’m primed.
Ready.
Hungry for it, even.
He tosses one of the sofa cushions down onto his feet. I don’t understand it until he lifts one of my legs to straddle him.
I yelp as he spins me face down over his legs, my ass spread over his lap with my knees bent and feet in the air. I brace my hands on the floor. The position is entirely ignominious. My pussy and ass are spread and open to his view. Presented to him. While I’m facing the floor.
Or rather, the pillow. I arrange it under my face and chest and hang on as he spanks my ass, first right cheek, then left. He rubs out the sting, tracing his thumb along my slit. The vibrator makes a reappearance, this time against my clit.
I moan and bite the pillow and wriggle as I grow more and more desperate.
“Please,” I start to moan.
“Please what?”
“Please… may I come?”
“Nyet.”
He turns up the vibration on the toy and I moan plaintively.
Just when I think it’s way too much, he adds the butt plug.
I’m a little sore from last time, but it goes in easier. I know to relax and breathe.
And like everything we’ve tried, the pleasure is greater the second time.
But so is the need. My inner thighs start trembling.
; I hump his lap, rubbing my clit over the vibrator as he pumps the plug in my ass.
I start to lose control. I’m chanting things—begging, I guess. Maybe babbling—I don’t even know.
“I know what you need,” he’s telling me, soothing me with long strokes of his palm down my back.
He throws another cushion to the floor. “On your knees for me, kitten.”
He helps me swing my legs down from the couch to kneel on the cushion. When I stand on my hands and knees, he pushes between my shoulder blades until I drop my torso to the pillow.
He likes the humiliating poses.
Apparently, so do I, because I’m still moaning and begging. Through the thick haze of lust, I watch him roll a new condom on before he pushes into me.
And then it’s pure ecstasy.
I never knew vaginal intercourse could be so satisfying. It never has been before.
But every thrust, every glide in and out is discovery. I’m finding me here. Finding pleasure, finding new heights I never knew existed.
My ass is stretched wide with the plug, making his every thrust twenty times more potent. And the angle? It’s. Just. Perfect.
“Please, please,” I babble, because I need it so badly now.
I need that orgasm more than my next breath.
He grips my hips and thrusts hard. Harder.
I whine for it, mewl. Beg some more.
But he’s a stallion.
The man keeps it up until I’m light-headed. Trembling from head to toe. Completely lost.
He reaches around and releases the clamps on my nipples. The pain of the blood rushing back into them makes me gasp.
And then he says it.
“Come, kitten.”
Pleasure explodes through me. Before he even thrusts deep and pushes me to my belly. Before he roars something in Russian so loud my ears ring.
I go hoarse with my own scream and when the room stops spinning I find myself on my belly, his large body draped over the top of mine. His lips at my nape.
I don’t want to ever move. Nor do I want him to move.
I’m in a happy place I’ve never known.
Euphoria.
He nibbles my ear lobe. Murmurs something in Russian. I only catch the word kotyonok.
I hum, slowly waggling my ass beneath him. My version of purring.
He kisses the side of my neck. “Spasibo.”
“What does that mean?” My voice is rusty.
“It means thank you.” He kisses my jaw this time. “You were such an unexpected pleasure.”
He eases out of me and I moan in disappointment, but then the air between us changes.
He pulls in a ragged breath and curses in Russian. The hair at my nape stands on end and a chill skitters down my skin chasing away the heat of the moment.
I look over my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, kitten, the condom broke.” He holds it up, his expression slightly stricken.
I swallow. “It’s okay.” I push up to my knees and he helps me stand. “I’ll take a morning after pill. It will be all right. I’m clean. Are you?”
“Da. Absolutely. I’m clean, yes.”
“Good.” My head floats around on my neck, like it can’t quite decide if I’m nodding or shaking my head.
Master R disposes of the condom and brings my dress to me, helping me back into it. He strokes up and down both my arms, like he’s warming me up. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m good. Really good.”
“Can I see you again?” I swear he almost looks surprised that he’s asking the question.
I shake my head. I came here for an experience, not a partner. I’d decided that before I came. Even if I hadn’t, I don’t think I could enter into any kind of ongoing relationship with a member of the Russian mafiya.
It’s just not something a smart woman does.
And that’s one thing I’ve always prided myself on being.
“No, you’re right. It’s better this way, yes.” And just like that, we’re through. Two polite strangers thanking each other. “Come.” He takes my elbow. “Let’s get you a drink.”
Chapter 5
Lucy
I’m a different person. Utterly changed. The cab ride back to Gretchen’s place is a bookend on the beginning of the night and it highlights my transformation.
My life may forever be BBL and ABL: Before Black Light and After Black Light.
I just had all my walls torn down and the person I found beneath them is beautiful. And I never knew her. I just kept her locked up for fear she’d do something imperfect or wrong.
Gratitude buzzes in my chest for Gretchen, for Black Light. For my partner.
Gretchen looks over at me and smirks. “You had a great time.”
I nod. “Yes.”
“He was good? What was his name? I haven’t seen him there before.”
“Master R. I don’t think he’s a member, he is here visiting the other Russian—some diplomat.”
“Valdemar, right. That man is an oaf. But how was his friend?”
I can’t stop the warmth running through my body. My attraction to him still sings in every cell. I swim in the memory of his hands, his voice, his body. “He was good.”
Understatement of the year.
“Just good? What did you land on? I only heard the wax play one.”
“Anal play and vaginal intercourse with condom. Only the condom broke.”
“Oh shit. You’re getting a morning after pill first thing tomorrow.” Gretchen gives me a severe look.
“Yes, of course,” I say automatically.
Except I already know I won’t take it.
All I ever wanted was to have children.
I’m thirty-five years old. I delayed the start of a family because I wanted to finish law school and establish my career first. Find the safe boyfriend, the one I thought for sure would be ready to settle down soon and be a dad.
But all that blew up in my face. I’m getting past my prime now, with no man in sight.
Maybe this was a happy accident.
A chance to have that baby without dealing with a father.
I will never see Master R again. We don’t even know each other’s real names. He wouldn’t need to know.
I have the ability to raise a child on my own. I have a power job. I make good money as a defense attorney in my father’s practice. I’ll make a damn good mom.
And the chance of a thirty-five-year-old woman getting pregnant the one time a condom breaks are slim.
But then again, I’m Lady Luck.
Tonight I was picked by the perfect dom. I landed on the perfect kinks.
And the condom broke.
Maybe for once, I can trust the Universe to deliver something I desperately want.
A baby.
The End… for now.
About the Author
USA Today Bestselling Author Renee Rose loves a dominant, dirty-talking alpha hero! She's sold over a half million copies of steamy romance with varying levels of kink. Her books have been featured in USA Today's Happily Ever After and Popsugar. Named Eroticon USA's Next Top Erotic Author in 2013, she has also won Spunky and Sassy's Favorite Sci-Fi and Anthology author, The Romance Reviews Best Historical Romance, and Spanking Romance Reviews' Best Sci-fi, Paranormal, Historical, Erotic, Ageplay and favorite couple and author. She's hit the USA Today list five times with various anthologies.
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Breathless
A Black Light: Roulette War Novella
By
Eris Adderly
Chapter 1
Anson
Anson Morrow didn’t believe in luck, and yet here he was, about to gamble with his mental health.
Get on the waiting list, Matthew had said. It’ll be good for you, he’d said.
He glanced down at his phone on his w
ay to the elevator. The new message stuck out in his notifications like a sore thumb because it was from an email account he’d created for one purpose, and one purpose only.
To apply for Black Light’s Roulette event.
And here was the first email he’d received in that account, aside from the initial ‘thank you for your application.’
Matthew had been pressuring him for at least two months. Because that’s what friends did, apparently. Harass a body until they caved or developed a nervous tic.
You need to get out of your comfort zone, man. Take risks.
All of this he’d heard, over and over again, especially on nights they both visited the club. His only friend gesturing with a tumbler of liquor, yelling encouragement at him over the music. But charismatic Matthew—congressman from Maryland—inevitably would accept or make offers to play with one of his favorites, and he’d leave Anson to brood at one of the tables and watch the action by himself.
No matter how many times he’d explained it, Matthew refused to believe Anson liked it that way.
The soles of his shoes made a muted ka-tak on the marble ground floor of the Internal Revenue Service building. At the elevator doors, he twisted to press the button with an elbow. The car pinged open without pause, already on the same floor, and Anson stepped inside. He turned to face the closing doors but didn’t go so far as to lean against the back wall.
Once the silent car began moving, he thumbed open the new email. His eyes skimmed, fast as light, to the relevant lines of text.
“Fuck.”
Anson didn’t engage in frequent profanity but this, he could warrant.
They’d accepted him.
He blinked at the tiny, bright screen.
Why, though? He was no showman. No big contributor; just paid his membership and came and watched for the last nine months. Matthew had to have greased some palms, no? For what other reason out of the whole list of applicants they’d made a big deal of, would the club owners have chosen… him?
The elevator bobbed to a halt and pinged again for the doors to open, and Anson leaned to step out onto the third floor.
