by Kate Stewart
Lust & Lies
Copyright © 2018 by Kate Stewart
Cover by Amy Queau, Q Design
Sexual Awakenings
Copyright © 2017 by Kate Stewart
Second Edition : First Published 2014
First Edition March 2014 under pen name Angelica Chase
Cover Design by Amy Queau, Q Design
Edited by Edee M. Fallon, Mad Spark Editing
Interior Design & Formatting by Juliana Cabrera, Jersey Girl Design
Excess
Copyright © 2017 by Kate Stewart
Cover Design by Amy Queau, Q Designs
Edited by Edee M. Fallon, Mad Spark Editing
Interior Design & Formatting by Juliana Cabrera, Jersey Girl Design
First Edition March 2015 under pen name Angelica Chase
Predator & Prey
Copyright © 2018 by Kate Stewart
Part One: The Phoenix
Original Copyright © 2015 under penname Angelica Chase
Part Two: The Fire
Cover Design by Amy Queau at Q Design
Edited by Edee M. Fallon at Mad Spark Editing
Formatting: Champagne Book Design
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage or retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, story lines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales or any events or occurrences are purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Sexual Awakenings
1. The Waltz
2. The Tango
3. The Last Dance
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Winter - Christmas Eve
4. Curtains
Valentine's Day
Spring
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Excess
Playlist
Opulence - Book 1
Scene One
Scene Two
Scene Three
Scene Four
Scene Five
Scene Six
Scene Seven
Reverence - Book 2
Devin
Nina
Devin
Nina
Devin
Nina
Devin
Devin
Devin
Nina
Nina
Hindrance - Book 3
Prologue
Devin
Nina
Nina
Devin
Nina
Nina
Nina
Devin
Nina
Nina
Nina
Nina
Nina
Nina
Nina
Devin
Nina
Acknowledgements
Predator & Prey
Dedication
Part One: The Phoenix
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Part Two: The Fire
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
I lit candles all over the house in only the scents he would tolerate. I covered our topiaries with soft, clear lights, and arranged fall flowers and large cornstalks into vases around the living room and porch. I loved fall, and by the way the house now smelled and had been transformed, it showed. Grabbing my pumpkin spice latte, I sat in my reading chair on the porch, watching the leaves sway in the cool breeze. I was already cold but refused to go inside, wanting to soak up the last of the sun as it made its way behind the trees, basking in the feeling in the air. Everything seemed clearer, crisper, and cold days were rare in the south this early in the season. Receiving an incoming message on my tablet, I tapped it, finding nothing new. He wouldn’t be home for dinner. It was a good thing I hadn’t bothered to cook. I knew better. A year straight of eating alone will do that to a woman. I opted for another night of wine and my vibrator.
Once inside, I chose my favorite bottle of red and poured a healthy glass. Surveying my beautifully decorated home, I rolled my eyes. What was the point? Maybe he was right. The last time I had decorated for the holidays, my husband had asked that same question.
“We don’t have any children. We hardly have company. Why even bother?”
Prick. We didn’t have children because he had a vasectomy three weeks after our wedding without telling me, only for me to find out in the first of many vicious arguments that ensued. We didn’t have company because he was too occupied keeping his own, busy with his constant need to stick his dick in their throats. It wasn’t enough for my husband to have one affair; he was in the midst of two.
I was not a woman scorned. Fuck that. I was a woman who had been freed, and too lazy to leave him, having no desire to start another relationship or leave my beautiful home. Alex was never here, ever. What was the point of giving up my life for a ghost I barely lived with? I took my wedding ring off months ago. He never noticed because, in all honesty, I couldn’t recall the last conversation we had.
And then I remembered.
“You never loved me, did you?” I asked as he entered the house after another late meeting.
“Sure, I love you. Why are you acting so out of sorts?” He ran his hands through his hair, a signature move on his part that I used to find sexy. A stranger to me at that point when we had originally been so close, he stared at me as if I disgusted him, and I returned it. We had been best friends before we were lovers. We’d shared everything. I didn’t even recognize the man who now took his place. There was not a damn thing wrong with me or the way I looked. All his fucked up issues about infidelity were his own.
“I’m not an idiot. Don’t play innocent, Alex,” I snapped.
“Drink your wine, honey,” he said dryly, pushing past me.
That was our last conversation. When he was home, he called his mistresses from his office. I heard every w
ord, because I listened. I listened to strengthen my resolve. I had already decided to ask for a divorce after Christmas. New year, new life, I guessed. He would let me keep the house and I would let him keep most of his money. He had plenty of it, due to old money passed down from his parents, and his newfound success at his advertising firm. I supposed he thought that since I wanted for nothing, I should just accept my circumstances as a good little wife, go shopping, get pampered. The truth was, I mourned my relationship with my husband, or at least the man I knew before things fell apart. The most frustrating aspect was he refused to admit anything was wrong; the man that had proposed to me knew something was wrong with me before I did at times. He was attentive and nurturing and…human. My tears saddened him; my smiles and laughter fueled him. He’d loved me.
I shook off the small amount of pain making its way into my chest. I had no more room for self-pity. I had done it all. I had worked out, tried new hair, new clothes. I had even gone so far as to get Botox. The only conclusion I came to after a few months of being refused in the skimpiest of lingerie was FUCK HIM. FUCK HIM. I had tried to make my marriage work. He was more interested in seeing it fail. Our relationship was too far gone from what it used to be. There was no trust, and definitely no lingering love. I had spent hours crying over him, now I just wanted my freedom. And freedom was becoming more important than comfort. I had to get out of this and soon.
I sipped my wine, thinking how completely unsatisfying it all was. I had waited until the age of twenty-nine to get married. It seemed the sensible thing to do after a few months of dating Alex. I couldn’t even remember the last time we had made love or fucked. My last attempt to keep the home fires burning had failed miserably.
“We aren’t a couple of fucking horny teenagers living out a fantasy, Vi. We aren’t making a porno, and what the fuck are you wearing?”
I gave up that day, throwing every single negligee I owned away and burying any remaining hope. Sex with Alex was never exactly hot. It had been enough because I had honestly loved him.
Drinking the last of my glass, I poured myself another. Sex, now there was something I was tired of living without. I had my trusty toy. God, how I loved that thing. Battery maintenance promised endless minutes of pleasure. The thought alone had me wanting to reach for it.
I was thirty-two years old, sitting in a big, beautifully decorated house, imagining the next session with my vibrator. I heard the shatter of the wine glass before I realized I was the one who had thrown it.
This was not my life! This was not who I was. This shit…this waiting, much like my marriage, was over!
Things were about to change and change today. First, I had to come up with a plan.
Sex, or lack thereof, was what set me off in the kitchen. I missed it. I wanted it. I needed it, but why? I’d never really had sex like most adults. Well, those adults who I envied, which included anyone who was having their needs met at this point. I abstained from having my own affair because, for a short time, I held out hope. Now that my mind was made up on divorce, I no longer had to justify my reasoning. Sex was a necessity for me. I had waited long enough. My body was starving for touch, my lips bankrupt from a lack of kisses. While a relationship didn’t appeal to me, at least not immediately, the thought of a good hard fuck made me insane with want. Not that I’d ever been satisfied sexually.
My experience consisted mainly of missionary, with a few sporadic moments here and there in various positions. Alex was not well endowed and had by no means made up for it throughout our years together. I wondered what it was like to be with a man with a big cock. I moaned at the thought, never once having an orgasm from a man’s dick. My girlfriend, Molly, told me that without a vibrator, I might never have one. She insisted girls who came with men inside them were either porn stars with amazing acting skills or had been divinely gifted in that department. It was a myth to me, an orgasm from a man’s cock. I’d had fantasies for years about the possibilities of sex. All of it interested me, especially the kink. Alex would look at me as though I was insane when I suggested anything out of our norm. I would get hot and bothered reading my dark, erotic romances and begged him to try some scenarios with me. Looking back now, I could see why he thought it a little strange. It just wasn’t realistic.
Do these people really exist, the people that explore the forbidden? Of course they do, but where were they? Certainly not on the outskirts of Savannah, GA. I laughed at the thought. I’d do good to find a decent looking, well hung, hardworking man in this area, period, let alone one that would explore my sexuality with me. Then again, what if? I mean, surely the insatiable and erotic sexual cravings of people are not limited to only large cities.
Where in the hell would I look for something like that here?
Of course there was the web, but some, or most, of those sites had a virus attached. I’d delved into porn a little when my imagination couldn’t do it for me and I needed a little extra something. That got old as well. I was tired of watching. I wanted the experience. Pouring myself another glass of wine, I ignored the shattered glass on the floor. Who the hell would care about the mess anyway? After all, it was only me here.
Hours later, after watching Jimmy Fallon, my curiosity brought me back to the web. Fuck it; I’d been the well-behaved, jilted wife long enough. I wanted to know what was out there, especially those like me who shared the same curiosities. I would love to know if any other women in Savannah had a fascination with kink. After a few hours of searching, I stumbled upon a site advertising a local, adults only page. There was a large triple X on the screen and a flashing advertisement of what looked like a bar in or around Savannah, but my excitement was stifled when I realized there was no address. After a quick Google search for the bar, named The Rabbit Hole, I came up empty, and gave up. Yawning, I threw my tablet beside my pillow and laid my head down to watch Nightline when I heard a ping.
I looked at my tablet to see an incoming message asking for the password. After careful thought, I had nothing. I typed my plea.
Hint?
Rabbit Hole.
Not helpful at all. Shit. The possibilities were endless. I studied the XXX on the screen and saw an Alice in Wonderland cartoon encased in them. Inside the rabbit hole, in the middle X, was Alice kissing another Alice on the cheek as she held her pointer finger to her lips.
Making the best guess I could, I keyed it in.
Don’t kiss and tell.
I was immediately redirected to the homepage, asked to create a username—Blue_Alice—and started navigating my way around.
It was a chat room, and from the subject matter floating in boxes around the screen, it was definitely a no holds barred kink fest. Perfect! At least the curious vixen inside me wouldn’t have to show her face for now. I sat for hours in the various chat rooms reading the conversations. Most of them consisted of people hooking up and then agreeing to email in private. Great, hours on the site and I had only gotten a little hot reading what appeared to be an open and unashamed twosome having really kinky message sex. I could read a book and get hotter than this. I was just about to grab my trusty silver bullet and a new erotica book when I received an incoming message.
MadHatter: What are you doing here?
I froze, feeling completely busted. I shook my embarrassment off quickly. I had knocked on the damn door. Why not have a little fun?
Blue_Alice: Looking.
MadHatter: For what?
Blue_Alice: Anything but what I’m doing.
There, honesty. Honesty was good.
MadHatter: Why so blue, Alice? Bored housewife?
Blue_Alice: Fuck you.
MadHatter: So, I’m assuming I’m correct?
Blue_Alice: Maybe. What the hell does it matter?
MadHatter: We don’t do married here.
Blue_Alice: I am getting a divorce.
MadHatter: That’s not a new one.
Blue_Alice: Keep your boring ass chat room.
MadHatter: Temper, temper.
Blue_Alice: I could do a better job turning people on than this bullshit.
MadHatter: Wow, you really need a thick cock in that sassy mouth.
Blue_Alice: And I suppose you’re the one who will be giving it to me?
MadHatter: Why not me?
I felt my cheeks grow hot and took a deep breath. Okay, now we are talking here.
Blue_Alice: Fine…talk to me.
MadHatter: Why are you here?
Blue_Alice: You already asked me that.
MadHatter: And you didn’t give me a good enough answer.
I thought about it. Going into this with honesty would be the only way I would truly get what I wanted. But is this what I wanted? What if he was some nasty, fat perv with bad skin and greasy hair? Then again, he may have thought I was some nasty troll with a huge gut and overgrown forest in my pants. I shook my head, indignant at my own stereotyping. Not cool, Vi. This whole scenario meant taking a chance. I had been teetering on the edge of this for years, if I was honest with myself. I wanted to be fucked ruthlessly, worshipped and tortured, brought to levels of sexual awareness I’d only dreamed about. I was sure—no, positive—I had an undiscovered fetish or two. Honest, I’ll be honest.
Blue_Alice: I want to explore a part of me I’ve kept hidden.
MadHatter: Why?
Blue_Alice: Because I don’t have anything to lose.
MadHatter: That’s dangerous.
Blue_Alice: That in itself is why I am interested. I want to be fucked in ways I’ve only imagined, and I’m tired of only feeling half full. I have cravings and I’m ready.
A few minutes later, I was sure the conversation had ended, then a ping.
MadHatter: I’ll be in touch.
Blue_Alice: Wait!
Okay that seemed a little desperate.
MadHatter: What?
Blue_Alice: Who are you?
MadHatter: I’m the guy with the thick cock you’ll be wondering about tonight while you play with your toys.
Blue_Alice: Charming.
MadHatter: I can be.
And he was gone, if it had even been a he. For all I knew, it could have been a she. This too fascinated me. I thought of women and my sexual boundaries when it came to them and decided one leap at a time. Although women appealed to me from the waist up, I had no desire to explore the waist down. Then again, I’d really never had the opportunity.
