by Celia Aaron
“What is it?” I walked back into our room. Michael was sitting naked on the bed with a business card in his hand.
“What’s that?” I pulled out a pair of panties from the suitcase and put them on, but he didn’t move, just stared at the card.
I sat down next to him. “Michael? You okay?”
His green eyes met mine. “Who’s Big Stick?”
“What?” The name was familiar and utterly ridiculous, but I couldn’t quite place it.
“Why do you have a card with the name Big Stick and a phone number on it in your pocket?” He pointed to the white dress I’d worn to my bachelorette party. I’d just thrown it in with everything else when I’d packed up at my aunt’s house before the wedding.
When I realized where I’d gotten the card, I laughed. Michael didn’t.
“Who is he, Jess?” A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“A stripper.” I bit his shoulder and batted my eyelashes at him as he glowered.
“Why do you have a stripper’s card in your pocket?” His voice was strained and his mouth was a thin line.
I crawled into his lap so I straddled him. “Because I think he must have slipped it in my pocket as I was leaving the club. Remember the guy I told you about that embarrassed me and took me up on stage?”
“That was Big Stick?” he asked.
“Right.” I nuzzled against his neck. His jealousy turned me on more than seemed appropriate.
He gripped my ass and pulled me even closer. “Does he know you’re mine?”
“Well, he did say congratulations on my wedding, but then gave me his card, so I don’t know if—”
In one smooth movement, Michael ripped my panties off and tossed me onto my back. “Say you’re mine.”
I shrugged. “I mean, I guess you could say I’m maybe—”
He pushed inside me and I squealed at the sudden intrusion. He smoothed his cock out and then back in, as deeply as he could go.
“Now, tell me you’re mine.” His voice was a low growl and he bit my neck to make his point.
I gave in. I always did. There was nowhere else I’d rather be, no other man for me. “I’m yours.”
“And I’m yours.” He kissed me, his mouth expertly making a slave out of me as he fucked me wildly.
I lifted my hips to meet his thrusts as he clutched me to him. He grew rougher, as if trying to instill himself in every cell of my body. He was already there. Every piece of me was linked with a piece of him.
He reached between us and rubbed my clit, making me moan and writhe with each of his hard impacts. “Michael!”
“Look in my eyes. Can anyone else fuck you like this?”
I stared at him, marveling at the intensity of his gaze as he pistoned into me harder than I thought possible. Every impact jarred me and gave me so much pleasure I was panting. His thumb on my clit was working me into a frenzy.
“No,” I breathed.
“Can any other man give you what you need?”
“No. Only you.”
“Damn right. I’m going to come so deep inside you, wildcat. Mark my goddamn territory.” He nipped at my jaw before kissing to my neck and sucking my skin between his teeth.
I dug my nails into his back and held on for the ride. My breasts pressed against his chest and I cried out as he gripped my hair, wrenched my head to the side, and bit down hard on my throat. The sting of pain intensified every sensation and I came all at once, rushing over the cliff and calling his name as I fell.
“Fuck yes, wildcat,” he grunted and sank deeply inside me. His cock grew even harder and kicked as he filled me.
My pussy spasmed one final time and I shuddered beneath him. He kissed the bite on my throat before working his way to my mouth.
His lips were gentle, the frenzy gone.
“I just couldn’t stand the thought of someone else touching you,” he whispered against my mouth.
I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I’m yours. For as long as you want me. I’m yours. I love you.”
He smiled and pulled back, wiping a sweaty lock of hair from my forehead as he stared deeply into my eyes. “Forever, then. You’re mine forever.”
If you enjoyed this naughty tale, please leave a review and help other readers.
Happy Valentine’s Day from Celia
The first two chapters of Counsellor are FREE at the end of this ebook!
Other Books by Celia Aaron
In the heart of Louisiana, the most powerful people in the South live behind elegant gates, mossy trees, and pleasant masks. Once every ten years, the pretense falls away and a tournament is held to determine who will rule them. The Acquisition is a crucible for the Southern nobility, a love letter written to a time when barbarism was enshrined as law.
Now, Sinclair Vinemont is in the running to claim the prize. There is only one way to win, and he has the key to do it—Stella Rousseau, his Acquisition. To save her father, Stella has agreed to become Sinclair's slave for one year. Though she is at the mercy of the cold, treacherous Vinemont, Stella will not go willingly into darkness.
As Sinclair and Stella battle against each other and the clock, only one thing is certain: The Acquisition always ends in blood.
Buy Now
Lucius Vinemont has spirited me away to a world of sugar cane and sun. There is nothing he cannot give me on his lavish Cuban plantation. Each gift seduces me, each touch seals my fate. There is no more talk of depraved competitions or his older brother – the one who’d stolen me, claimed me, and made me feel things I never should have. Even as Lucius works to make me forget Sinclair, my thoughts stray back to him, to the dark blue eyes that haunt my sweetest dreams and bitterest nightmares. Just like every dream, this one must end. Christmas will soon be here, and with it, the second trial of the Acquisition.
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Short Sexy Reads by Celia Aaron
Bad Boy Valentine
The Hard and Dirty Holidays
Jess has always been shy. Keeping her head down and staying out of sight have served her well, especially when a sexy photographer moves in across the hall from her. Michael has a budding career, a dark past, and enough ink and piercings to make Jess' mouth water. She is well equipped to watched him through her peephole and stalk him on social media. But what happens when the bad boy next door comes knocking?
A Stepbrother for Christmas
The Hard and Dirty Holidays
Annalise dreads seeing her stepbrother at her family's Christmas get-together. Niles had always been so nasty, tormenting her in high school after their parents had gotten married. British and snobby, Niles did everything he could to hurt Annalise when they were younger. Now, Annalise hasn't seen Niles in three years; he's been away at school in England and Annalise has started her pre-med program in Dallas. When they reconnect, dark memories threaten, sparks fly, and they give true meaning to the “hard and dirty holidays.”
F*ck of the Irish
The Hard and Dirty Holidays
Eamon is my crush, the one guy I can’t stop thinking about. His Irish accent, toned body, and sparkling eyes captivated me the second I saw him. But since he slept with my roommate, who claims she still loves him, he’s been off limits. Despite my prohibition on dating him, he has other other ideas. Resisting him is the key to keeping my roommate happy, but giving in may bring me more pleasure than I ever imagined.
Forced by the Kingpin
Forced Series, Book 1
I've been on the trail of the local mob kingpin for months. I know his haunts, habits, and vices. The only thing I didn't know was how obsessed he was with me. Now, caught in his trap, I'm about to find out how far he and his local cop-on-the-take will go to keep me silent.
Forced by the Professor
Forced Series, Book 2
I've been in Professor Stevens’ class for a semester. He’s brilliant, severe, and hot as hell. I haven’t been particularly attentive, prepared, or timely, but he hasn’t said anything to me about it. I figure he must
not mind and intends to let me slide. At least I thought that was the case until he told me to stay after class today. Maybe he’ll let me off with a warning?
Forced by the Hitmen
Forced Series, Book 3
I stayed out of my father's business. His dirty money never mattered to me, so long as my trust fund was full of it. But now I've been kidnapped by his enemies and stuffed in a bag. The rough men who took me have promised to hurt me if I make a sound or try to run. I know, deep down, they are going to hurt me no matter what I do. Now I'm cuffed to their bed. Will I ever see the light of day again?
Forced by the Stepbrother
Forced Series, Book 4
Dancing for strange men was the biggest turn on I'd ever known. Until I met him. He was able to control me, make me hot, make me need him, with nothing more than a look. But he was a fantasy. Just another client who worked me up and paid my bills. Until he found me, the real me. Now, he's backed me into a corner. His threats and promises, darkly whispered in tones of sex and violence, have bound me surer than the cruelest ropes. At first I was unsure, but now I know – him being my stepbrother is the least of my worries.
Forced by the Quarterback
Forced Series, Book 5
For three years, I'd lusted after Jericho, my brother's best friend and quarterback of our college football team. He's never paid me any attention, considering me nothing more than a little sister he never had. Now, I'm starting freshman year and I'm sharing a suite with my brother. Jericho is over all the time, but he'll never see me as anything other than the shy girl he met three years ago. But that's not who I am. Not really. To get over Jericho – and to finally get off – I’ve arranged a meeting with HardcoreDom. If I can't have Jericho, I'll give myself to a man who will master me, force me, and dominate me the way I desperately need.
***
Zeus
Taken by Olympus, Book 1
One minute I’m looking after an injured gelding, the next I’m tied to a luxurious bed. I never believed in fairy tales, never gave a second thought to myths. Now that I’ve been kidnapped by a man with golden eyes and a body that makes my mouth water, I'm not sure what I believe anymore. . . But I know what I want.
Counsellor
Acquisition Series, Book 1
Celia Aaron
Counsellor
Acquisition Series, Book 1
Celia Aaron
Copyright © 2015 Celia Aaron
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book only. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Celia Aaron. Please do not participate in piracy of books or other creative works.
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
WARNING: This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Please store your files wisely, away from under-aged readers. This book is a dark romance. If dark romance bothers you, this book isn’t for you. If dark, twisty, suspenseful, and sexy—or any combination of those words—interest you, then enjoy.
Cover art by L.J. at mayhemcovercreations.com
Editing by J. Brooks
Chapter One
Sinclair
In the heart of every man is a darkness. Primal. Instinctive.
At its most basic, it’s a desirous nature—one that covets, demands, takes. Most men brick it up behind a wall of self-control. They invest time and effort in maintaining the separation. These men, good men, control the darkness until it withers away and becomes nothing more than a shadow haunting their innermost thoughts. Something easily forgotten, dismissed, erased.
I've never been a good man.
My darkness is neither restrained nor buried. It lives right at the surface. The only thing that hides it is my mask.
My mask is the law, the light, the pursuit of justice. It is forthright and airy. It is the appearance of righteousness in a fallen world.
The mask I wear is purely the act of a predator. Theater. Pageantry. Deceptive and lethal. It allows me to get close and closer still until it is time to strike.
I stalk so near that my prey can feel the tickle of my breath, the coldness of my heart, the depth of my depravity. Only a whisper separates me from what I desire.
Then the mask falls away, and all my victim sees is darkness.
Chapter Two
Stella
The district attorney sat completely still at the dark, polished table across the courtroom. My father sat in front of me at an identical table, but he was full of nervous energy. He shifted, ran a hand through his silver hair, and leaned over to whisper to his attorney.
I clasped my hands in my lap until the ring on my index finger dug into my flesh. This was the last chance my father had for freedom, the last day he would be able to throw himself on the mercy of the court. My gaze wandered back to the district attorney, the one who had my father arrested. Investigators scrutinized every last cent the old man ever invested or borrowed. And, just like that, my world became a smoldering heap of ashes. All because of one man.
Sinclair Vinemont was unmoving, like a spider poised on a web, waiting for the slightest sensation of movement from a hapless moth. My father was the moth, and Vinemont was about to destroy him. The investigation and prosecution had been the careful work of a master. Vinemont had woven the cocoon tighter and tighter until my father was caught from all sides. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to try and hide from Vinemont’s poison. Dad was being systematically dismantled by the silent monster in a perfect suit.
I wanted to crumble. I couldn’t. Dad needed me. No matter the long list of allegations and the even longer list of evidence against him, he was my father. He had always been there for me. Always protected me, stood by me, and encouraged me. Even after what my mother had done. Even after what I had done.
I would not leave his side. He was staring down a hefty prison sentence. Even if the worst happened, I would visit him, call him, write him, and keep him company until the day he got out. I owed him that and much more.
I stared at Vinemont so hard I hoped he would burst into flames from the sheer heat of my hatred. I’d wished for his demise for so long it had become like second nature to me. I hated him, hated every slick word from his mouth, every breath he took. Vinemont’s downfall was stuck on replay in mind. As I glared at his back, he remained tranquil, completely at ease despite my father coming apart with worry at the table next to him.
I forced myself to drop my gaze, lest anyone see me glaring at him with embittered rage. I couldn’t bear for my father to suffer any further torment, especially not if it was based on any of my actions. My hands were pale in my lap, a white contrast to my dark pinstriped skirt. I took a deep breath and settled myself. It would do no good for me to fall apart now. Not in the face of my father’s sentencing. I let out my breath slowly and looked up.
Something was different. I darted my gaze to the side. Sinclair Vinemont sat just as still, but now his eyes were trained on me. His gaze pierced me, as if he were seeing more than my exterior. I refused to turn away and, instead, gave him a matching stare full of righteous anger. We were locked in a battle, though not a word was said and no one threw a punch. I wouldn’t look away. I wouldn’t let him win even more than he already had. I perused his appearance more fully than I had ever dared. He would have been handsome—dark hair, blue eyes, and a strong jaw. He was tall, broad, fit. The perfect man except for the ice I knew coated his heart.
The internet had told me everything I needed to know about him. Single, old money, career in public service, and at twenty-nine years old, he was the youngest district attorney in parish history. The only t
hing I didn’t know about him was why he would dare look at me, why he thought he had any right to pin me with his gaze after he’d ruined my life. I wanted to spit in his face, claw his eyes, and make him hurt the same way he’d hurt my father and me.
The door at the front of the courtroom opened and the judge entered, a stark, elderly man in black robes. Vinemont finally turned away, vanquished for the time being. Everyone in the courtroom stood. The judge shuffled to his seat behind a high wall of wood and state insignias, far above the spectators and lawyers.
“Be seated.” Despite his apparent age, his voice boomed, echoing off the dusty shutters and up into the gallery above. “Counsellor Vinemont…” He trailed off, sorting through the papers on his desk.
My father sank into his chair and turned to grant me a thin smile. I tried to smile back to give him some sort of comfort, but it was too late. He’d already faced forward, watching the judge. I willed the judge to let my father go, to suspend his sentence, to do anything except take him away from me. I had no one else. No mother. No one except Dylan, and I refused to rely on him for anything.
Vinemont stood and fastened the top button of his suit coat before stepping from behind the table. He was tall, and like so many dangerous things, effortlessly beautiful.
The bespectacled, bearded judge was still rifling through sheets upon sheets of documents when Vinemont spoke.
“Judge Montagnet, I have several victims lined up to speak against Mr. Rousseau.” His deep Southern drawl was an affront to my ears. Even so, words spilled off his tongue with ease. He could charm the devil himself. As far as I was concerned, Sinclair Vinemont was the devil.
