Pick Your Passion (The Heart's Desire Series Book 2)

by S. E. Hall

  When my mind starts to grasp reality again, I notice he's gone. As I shift slightly, I feel the dangle of both chains brushing against my body. I imagine how fucked I look. I'm sure it's anything but sexy. That's the nice part about being blindfolded, it's like you have a small curtain to hide behind.

  The cross begins to move. He rubs my ass as he moves the stand a few feet out from the wall. It sounded as if it were sliding through a track of some sort.

  He pushes on the plug before he removes it, replacing it with a longer and wider one. I'm not sure why this one seems easier to take than the last one did. Maybe I'm past the point of having feeling in that part of my body.

  The cross begins to move again, this time back into the original position. He walks away and I let my body relax and prepare for another long wait.

  The surprise of the vibration in my ass, jerks me to life. It stops just as I lift my head. The anticipation of it going off again seriously has my ass clenched tight. He waits until I lower my head before sending it off again. I rush to attention, not sure how to handle that kind of crazy in my ass.

  It is a very long time before he returns. My body hurts from being in this position. I don't dare relax, knowing what's waiting for me if I do.

  I hear him breathing before he reaches me this time. He sucks on the nipple that's free from the clamp, just as he starts the vibrator on my clit again. His hand moves to loosen the other clamp, but he doesn't remove it.

  The build is quicker this time as the insanity rushes through my body. The start of the vibrator in my ass, just as he pulls off the clamp sends my mind into a whirlwind. I can't grasp both vibrators at the same time. I thought the last orgasm was intense. I had no idea how irrational an orgasm could be.

  He doesn't let up until I'm totally lifeless from the storm he just put me through. Even the feel of his tongue over my aching nipple is too much, and luckily he leaves me alone again.

  I'm asleep when he touches my face. He removes the ankle straps, massaging my legs as he does. He stands to free my wrists and I don't miss him smelling my hair again. He lowers my hands, rubbing each wrist to return the blood flow. My hand brushes over his cock and I know in this moment that we aren't anywhere close to being done.

  He lets my hand linger near him, so I move my fingers just enough to make contact. His slight turn toward me is an invitation to continue. I love when the guy lets me explore on my terms too.

  I let my fingers move over his cock, then lower to his balls. A small squeeze and he guides my hand away, so I start to trail my fingers up his stomach, taking note of the veins and ridges in his body. He's hard. Not just in his cock. He stops me before I make it very far.

  He moves to stand behind me, letting his hands roam over my body as he does. I notice how tender and sore everything is as he glides over my skin.

  He's running his cock up and down the crack of my ass as he continues to explore every part of me. His mouth is covering my neck and shoulders and it's odd how loving this feels. I just enjoy the feeling of not being alone for a moment and let him make me feel loved, even though I know this isn't real. It never truly is with a Dom. This will all end soon enough anyway.

  I move my hand behind him and grab his ass as he shifts forward against me again. The flex in his muscles ripple under my touch. I know he's prepared me for anal sex and as we stand here like this, I can't help but crave it from him.

  I begin to sway with him as he continues to absorb every bit of me with his hands. It's as if he's as starved for this as I am. I wait for him to do the deed. I know it's coming, but he isn't moving us to it yet. My urge to turn around and actually spend time kissing this man is pissing me off. That's off limits. That's emotion.

  Standing still is difficult, but necessary. I need him to make the next move. That's the rule. Subs don't lead.

  With one last thrust, he pulls on the chain leading my head down and into a perfect position for him to take me from behind. I grab my ankles and prepare for him to do exactly that.

  The feel of his hands on my sore skin is oddly welcoming. He fills both hands with my ass cheeks and squeezes. Spanking my ass with his dick and then rubbing the tip of it over my slit makes me want him even more. Fuck. I love that. How the hell did he know. Take me already.

  He opens the condom, then enters me slowly. I expected him to go for the ass, but he doesn't. Grabbing my hips, he fucks me hard and fast. There is no shame in his game as he drives into me as hard and as fast as possible. If he wasn't holding on to me, I know he would've fucked me clear across the room with every thrust.

  The tug on my chain, has me standing while he continues to fuck me with strength and power, sending me quickly to the edge of greatness. He pauses only to move us a few feet forward. I feel coldness against my chest and I assume it's a full length glass window. The possibility of what's on the outside of that window flashes through my mind, but I don't even care as he begins to drive even harder than before.

  My breasts are smashed against the glass, my hands are out to help block some of the banging against the glass. He continues until all of a sudden he freezes. Balls deep into me, he stops moving. This time I can feel the twitch of his dick down there. Fuck. Why does he keep stopping?

  He pulls out of me, putting pressure on my hands which tells me to stay put.

  Quickly returning, he edges my legs further apart and inserts a cold hardness into my pussy. Pulling my hips out from the wall, he finally enters my ass. He moves slowly with control this time, in and out.

  The vibrations begin and he pushes in balls deep, the force driving us both forward against the glass. His thrusts rub my body up and down the glass and I welcome it along with every sensation. The breath in my ear, the burning in my ass, the vibrations, the cold on my tits... Everything is working together to bring me to peak very fast.

  He grabs both nipples, pinching them until I start to moan through the beginning of my frenzy. When I do, he grips my hips and doesn't let up until we're both moaning through ecstasy.

  I still don't know what he sounds like. The volume of my own cries kept me from hearing him.

  He collapses against me, pulling out first. His breaths, rapid against my face are faster than my own.

  This is what I'm here for. The feeling of complete and utter exhaustion, where I can barely stand, let alone walk.

  Removing the vibrator first, he carries me to a bed, urging me to lay on my stomach.

  His hands spread over my skin as he applies lotion to my entire body, I leave the blindfold in place, because that's how the scene is set. I knew when I walked in here, that was a rule. 'Don't remove the blindfold until you feel rose petals.' My only rule was my safe word, which I'd hoped wouldn't be needed.

  "Thank you." I need to say something to him. Surely he knows how much I appreciate what he did for me today. He doesn't respond.

  He lays on his side, pulling my back against his chest. The strength in his arms makes me feel safe. I miss the feel of safety. I can't keep my eyes open any longer.

  I wake with the slight vision of light coming in from under my blindfold. Moving my hand across the bed, I search for him. He's gone. I do feel rose petals on the bed and the sad feeling of what that means hits me. I'm alone again.

  I knew going into this that it would be a one time thing, I just didn't expect to love it that much. He gave me a night I will never forget. I'm not even sure how anyone will ever compare to that.

  Sliding the blindfold up my forehead, I wait for my eyes to adjust to the light before I move from the bed. This room is gorgeous. Deep reds and black accent the entire room. All the wood is a deep cherry stain and it just adds to the rich feeling.

  I go to each piece of equipment that we used last night and notice how similar it all is to what I'd imagined. It's as if someone bought the best of the best and put it into this room.

  The window. The curtain is drawn, but I can't keep from my curiosity. I slide open the material, only to find the most captivating scenery of
the city. I can only imagine the view of the lights last night as he took me against the window.

  There's a note on the dresser.

  Brie ~

  Thank you for a great night. You can see yourself out. Here's a dress for you. Maybe when you wear it, you'll think of me and the way I made you feel last night. I expect it will fit perfectly, after all... I now know every inch of your body.

  PS... Your new shoes are by the door.

  ~T

  My eyes pull to the heels on the floor by the door, so perfectly placed. Blue. My favorite color. Just like the dress.

  I put on my new dress and I may as well have painted it on. It's very fitted and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror to appreciate how it makes me look. I hardly recognize myself. Of course the fucked look isn't normal, but I'm talking about how this dress fits. It's absolutely gorgeous.

  Placing the heels on, I take one more appreciative look at myself in the mirror before I turn to walk out the door.

  There's a second door in the room. I struggle with the urge to try to open it, but I don't. Something tells me that whatever is behind that door is complicated.

  The air from the hall enters as I open the door. Knowing that when I walk out this door I will never come back, is an eerie feeling. Why is this bothering me so much?

  I make my way down the hall and toward the exit. There aren't any doors in the hall and the elevator is small. I take two flights down to the bottom floor. There's a car waiting for me just as arrive. This doesn't surprise me.

  "Excuse me ma'am. Do you know if Mr. Bryant lives here?" Chills scrape over my body.

  “Mr. Bryant? As in Mr. Tristen Bryant?”

  Full Body Check

  S.E. Hall

  ©2017, S.E. Hall

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Prologue

  (Where we left off with Gracie & Brewer in Pick Your Poison)

  Brewer

  “This is your house?” she gasps as I park in the driveway.

  “This is it, home sweet home.”

  “Why? Do you have, like, three sister wives and twenty-five kids you failed to mention?”

  “No kids, never been married,” I chuckle, climbing out and walking around the truck to open her door. “And definitely no to three women at the same time.”

  “Okay then, did you rescue and re-home all the refugees, every last one of a small-to-medium-sized country?” She’s staring at my house and speaking as though dazed, so I undo the seat belt, lift her sexy little body up and out, then set her feet on the ground for her.

  “Nope, just me,” I answer… and feel my brows reach for my hairline in confusion when she cuts a scathing glare my way.

  “Ridiculous.” She tsks, shaking her head. “And very disappointing.”

  “Do you actually know a lot of people who’ve rescued those of small countries?” I ask, “because I don’t know any. Didn’t realize it was a common thing. Thus, my surprise at your… disappointment.”

  “Funny,” she grits back, drier than my humor. “It’s just… why do you need a house this big if you’re the only one who lives in it? Are you overcompensating for something, or simply showing off?” My head lolls back as peals of laughter belt out of me, but the weight of her scowl’s hefty, so I reel it in fast. “I’m not kidding, Brewer. This country’s kind of an upside-down joke if you ask me. So many have so little, yet male athletes, yes, just the males, are paid exorbitant amounts of money to throw, dunk, or putt a ball… or slap a puck. No offense, but you know it’s true. Do you really think your job”— she pumps some haughty air quotes — “calls for an extremely large paycheck? Larger than, say, a police officer? Firefighter? Nurse? Teacher?”

  I can’t argue with her, nor do I want to try; she’s absolutely right, and I agree, on all points. Not to mention, I love that she’s intelligent, passionate, and unafraid to speak proof of both. “I can’t change the whole country, Gracie, and I’m certainly not going to refuse the salary I was offered, even if it is ludicrous. All I can do is give back, pay it forward… make a change, a difference, where I’m able. Concentrate my efforts where, and how, they have the biggest impact.”

  “You’re right, you can, and should.”

  “I agree, and do.”

  “Oh yeah?” She juts her chin out, squaring her stance and shoulders. Cute as hell. “How? And how often?”

  Another chuckle I can’t capture sounds, my eyes soaking up her every aspect. She’s a bold little thing when she wants to be, and it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if she next challenges me to get my manager on the phone to verify my response — which I’ll gladly do — not to impress her, but to earn her respect; which I realize, for some reason, I don’t just want… but need.

  “Well, let’s see.” I rub the back of my neck, suddenly embarrassed, and certainly not wanting to seem a braggart. “I had a rec center built downtown, so the inner-city kids would have a safe haven. A good place they can always go, instead of a bad one. Learn how to play sports, trade, or choose from lots of other activities that just might help keep them out of trouble. I provide funding, every month, and the whole team follows an unspoken rule that we, The Freeze, take care of the Women and Children’s Shelter, too. Every player, in a rotation, takes their month and pays for supplies, sees to stuff getting fixed, paints, and whatever else needs done. Plus-”

  “Catch me.” She’s already launched herself in air while asking the breathlessly sexy request, and I easily snare her by the hips to haul her up and taut against me. “Altruism is very attractive,” she purrs, right before crashing her mouth over mine.

  Remind me to sponsor a whole fucking planet, ASAP.

  When Gracie Bolton sets out to kiss a man, she kisses the hell out of him. And praise God… him is me. Her legs are wrapped around my waist, fingers clawing at my hair, and ripe-apple ass filling my hands as our mouths, tongues, and choppy breaths get acquainted. Well acquainted. She’s wiggling, moaning, trying to climb me — seeking more — every urgent gyration of her hips rubbing her heat against my dick and seriously tempting me to take her right here, right now.

  I’ve had sex in bathroom stalls, a dark corner in more than a few clubs, locker rooms that reeked of sweaty balls, and even in the back of a cab once. But for reasons I’d probably never understand, should I try, I want things with Gracie to be different. Intimate? Yeah, that’s the right word… I just can’t believe it’s the right word. I don’t do intimate.

  Maybe it’s the chase that’s got me all fucked up in the head. Gracie didn’t serve herself up on a puck-bunny platter; instead, making me hunt her down. Or it could be our unique prelude — can’t say I’ve ever stopped, on the ice, to play a game of suggestive charades before.

  And after her little speech tonight, giving me a few glimpses into who she is and what she’s about, I’m even more intrigued. No chick has ever complained that I have too much money, let alone argued that I should give it away. And although Gracie’s the first woman I’ve ever brought to my home, I’m pretty sure she’s also the only one who’d insinuate it’s ostentatious.

  Whatever the reason, likely all of them, I release her mouth, so I can lean back and latch on to her eyes. “How about we go inside?” I grin,
taken completely aback by how she looks in this exact moment — swollen, pouty lips, flushed cheeks, hair the color of a desert sunset, a beautiful mess — but above all, the pure, unfueled by ulterior motives, passion blazing in her eyes.

  She wants me.

  Me.

  Brewer Hayes, the man. The person.

  Not the Captain of an NHL team. Not in public, where everyone can see her on my arm, standing beside me, in front of the cameras, while I’m being photographed or interviewed.

  Just. Me.

  In the privacy of my home… that doesn’t impress her.

  She bobs her head wildly, making sure I catch her ‘yes,’ too out of breath for a vocal reply, and my grin stretches wider as I walk us toward the door.

  I re-adjust my hold on her to dig the keys out of my pocket, and she stops running her tongue along my throat long enough to giggle. “What, no butler to let us in? What about Alexa? Surely, she’s streaming through your whole h-, mansion. Just scream at her to unlock the door.”

  “Only woman in this house is you,” I growl, landing a playful peck on her cheek.

  No sooner than I get us inside, by using a key, all by myself, she wriggles to be put down. Here we go… now she’ll want to see everything… ask for the “grand tour,” gasping and fawning the whole time. I can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment, and with an accompanying sigh of such, I toss my keys on the counter and move to take her hand.

  Guess I’ll start by showing her the backyard; the reason I bought this place. There’s a giant pool, complete with a rock waterfall, hidden coves, and a hot tub. Plus, the kickass landscaping, hammock, cabana, and a gazebo, but the spectacular view was the clencher — helping me when I need to escape — kind of like I’m on my own private island, any time I have time to come back here and just chill.