Forbidden: A Blakely After Dark Novella (The Forbidden Series)

by Kira Blakely

  “Yes,” I sigh, eyes rolling. It doesn’t hurt. I thought that it would hurt but it doesn’t. It’s just… intense. I mean, I feel like I might pass out, but not in a bad way. It’s like a rollercoaster: terrifying but exhilarating.

  Then he starts to pump in and out and I lose my mind. The intensity doubles down. He grips my hips and tugs me back, panting that I’m a good girl. But right now, I feel like a bad girl. He spanks me again and I get looser. It gets hotter. “That’s my girl…” Rainier sighs. He’s so impossibly large now, and I can almost feel the cum on the tip of his head. “And these are my holes. Oh… oh… are you ready… here it comes…”

  His cock moves like thunder in me now, banging with deep, bone-shaking thrusts. It’s incredible. His massive length explodes and spasms inside me, flush with my ass, as low as he can possibly get, sweating in buckets and gasping for air.

  “Oh, my god.” Rainier blinks in a daze up at the ceiling. He’s still in my ass. “I think I’m in love with you.”

  Epilogue

  Rainier

  Two Months Later

  I’ve got a goddamn meeting in one hour—no, fifty minutes—and I can’t find Ella anywhere. She’s supposed to be my personal assistant, with me in whatever capacity I need. But she’s not here, and I need the notes for the meeting right now. She’s being a very bad girl. I don’t want to have to punish her, but I will.

  I’ve met oil magnate Cal Miller before—on occasion at Mystique Island, in fact—but we have never formally discussed business. I’m considering a new career direction, though it doesn’t actually mean anything. My stake in Howell & McKenzie is unshakeable, but I might find an acting CEO and venture to greener pastures.

  Rex has lost a lot of his luster since Mystique Island. He’s been slipping, and I want to get some space… although I’m certain the company will be fine. He’s an asshole, but he’s still a genius with land and money. Until I come back, I’m interested in diversifying my capital. Possibly even venturing fully into a new field, and it won’t do to be completely without my paperwork for the meeting. I wanted to talk very specific numbers, math we painstakingly did all week.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m late,” Ella huffs, pushing through the entrance of my mansion with her arms loaded in binders. She wears a glamorous tea dress, like one of Don Draper’s conquests from Mad Men, and she smiles up at me helplessly as she tries to shoulder the door shut without dropping the binders. I notice that her makeup has been freshened since she left, and it looks like it belongs on a movie star. Her lips pop, her eyelashes are gigantic, and her cheeks glow in the light. When the hell did she have time for all that while she’s supposed to be at work right now?

  “Where have you been?” I demand, stern… even though I also come forward and scoop the binders out of her overloaded arms.

  “Thank you,” she breathes. “Um, I just…” Her big lashes blink up at me and she knows that she’s caught. Her crimson mouth folds down in a pout. “I stopped at Sephora on the way back,” she confesses, “because they’ve got in this new brand and they had an opening at the makeup counter and—”

  “And you completely lost focus on the time?” My fingers stretch and catch on her chin, tilting her smoky eyes up to mine. I do love the makeup. It’s that exotic, bombshell look I used to crave… though I don’t need it as much as I thought I would. And I’m not as mad as I’m pretending to be. Seeing her here now, in the dress and the makeup and the heels, looking so beautiful, loaded down with binders for my meeting, she looks like the perfect woman all over again.

  “I’m sorry that I’m late,” she repeats softly. “We still have forty-five minutes.”

  “That’s not a lot of time.”

  “But—” Her smoky lashes bat with confusion. “We’re only fifteen minutes away from his office.”

  “Yes, but we also need time for me to relieve some stress,” I tell her, lowering my voice into a near hiss. My hand travels to her throat and holds it snugly, lovingly… but firmly. “You know how I get when you’re not around.”

  “I know how you get when I’m around, too,” she breathes, and I clench my jaw.

  “Get on your knees, Miss Petit,” I command her. “You’ve got less than thirty minutes to swallow my load and fix your makeup again.”

  “Yes, sir,” she says, climbing down onto her knees. I know she just got it done… and she understands why I have to ruin it. Because she’s a bad girl.

  I unbelt myself and open my zipper. My erection swings in the air beneath the bottom of my buttoned shirt, and gorgeous Ella glances up at me once, as if uncertain, and then obediently takes my thick head into her perfect little mouth. She doesn’t break eye contact as she squeezes her throat down its length, taking all of me, and my balls draw up.

  “Fuck, yeah, smear all your lipstick,” I growl, thickening at the sight. Her lipstick smears away, leaving pink smudges on her chin and under her nose, trekking over my cock. “You were a bad girl, and I should spank you, but I don’t have the time. So swallow every drop of this, baby. Then you’ll be my good girl again. Then you’ll really be helping.”

  My heart aches as her eyes squeeze shut in concentration and she brings her hands up to my slick shaft, working them up and down the length with real passion. She wants to make me come. She’s playing me hard. My head falls back and I thank God for Isabella Petit, my perfect woman. The kind of woman who will drop to her knees and ruin her lipstick on your cock. The kind of woman who will close her eyes and work your shaft hard because you say you need it. I want to make her Isabella Howell someday… but for right now, this blowjob is exquisite.

  “Oh, yeah, baby,” I grunt, reaching into her hair, pulling her head back and forth, making her take just a little bit more. I know that she likes it, and I’ll be damned if I don’t. My load tingles at the tip of my head and I know it’s going to come. I know it’s going to be a lot. “Fuuuck…” I look down at her again, wildly working me, her hair a mess, her makeup destroyed. Fuck, yeah. My perfect assistant. “It’s coming,” I pant, bucking into her. “It’s coming…”

  I spasm and the hot seed pours from me, into her mouth. She takes it all, drinking me, and then looks up from my spent prick and beams. Tears crowd her eyes from having triggered her gag reflex, but she’s proud of herself.

  “That’s my girl,” I remind her huskily, dragging her off her poor knees. “That’s my good girl.” My hand swings down and clutches her ass appreciatively, giving that generous booty a little jiggle. “What are you going to do while I’m at my meeting?”

  “Honestly?” she pipes.

  “Of course.”

  “I think I’m going down to the spa for a facial, a massage, and a wrap,” she confesses, nipping into her lower lip. “I know. I am a bad girl.”

  I laugh. It’s true that, since becoming my woman, she doesn’t work as hard as she used to. I insist on pampering her, and she’s slowly bending to that insistence. She’s just getting used to being my queen. The only person she needs to serve is me, and the kingdom is hers. The crazy part is that she seems to love me. Serving me brings her pleasure, not resentment. It’s strange… but addictive.

  “You deserve it,” I tell her, leaning down and kissing her bee-stung lips one more time. “Have a good time. I want to see you when I get back, though, in about two, two and a half hours. We’ve got a very important project to finish.”

  I really should be getting downtown, but I can’t peel myself away from Ella. I’ve never been like this before, but with her… I’m opening up like a fucking flower.

  “What project?” she asks.

  I suck my lower lip, let my eyes trail her, and then release my lip again. “You. You’ve been working so hard, baby. When I need a massage, you’re on my back. When I have a wrinkle in my shirt, you get the iron. When I’m tired, you turn out the lights. And when I’m horny…” I growl a little bit and sway into her, my arms encircling her waist. “You’re on top of that, too.”

  Ella shies
away from my predatory gaze but her hands trail down my shirt. I’m going to be late for this goddamn meeting. If she doesn’t watcht out, I’m going to miss it entirely, and we’ll both be bad.

  “I don’t need anything,” she says. “I love my job.”

  “Oh, I think you need something,” I tell her. “You need a long, hard massage, and you need me sucking on your clit all night long.”

  “Mm.” But Ella steps away and I lick my lips. She bites her lower lip and nods toward the door. “See you tonight, then. When should I pencil you in?”

  “Eight o’clock,” I answer sternly, already hard again just thinking about it. “And don’t be late, Miss Petit. You know what happens when you’re late.”

  Keep reading!

  Want more of Mystique Island? Forbidden Santa is the third book in the series. Read it after this page.

  >>>Click here and get Forbidden Santa NOW!<<<

  Blakely After Dark

  KIRA BLAKELY

  Hello, my naughty Kiralites!

  You’re not going to want to miss any addition to my Blakely After Dark series.

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  A gold letter, wrapped in diamonds, addressed to me.

  “You are cordially invited to Mystique Island.”

  It’s a Christmas ball fit for a queen.

  I’m going to be a special package.

  A billionaire’s dream girl, delivered to his villa.

  Bound in a tight red bow, ready to be unwrapped.

  This is out of my comfort zone, totally unlike me.

  I’ve been a good girl. Virginity intact.

  But this island has a way of turning good girl’s naughty.

  So I’ll sit on Santa’s knee.

  And whisper my deepest desires in his ear.

  He’s checking his list

  And licking me twice.

  This good girl will taste very nice.

  Welcome to Blakely After Dark. This is a naughty quick read for mature audiences only. Happily ever after’s are guaranteed!

  Forbidden Santa

  This is book three of the Forbidden Series. Each book is a stand alone and does not have to be read in order.

  Chapter One

  Stuart

  This happens every Christmas.

  Rose Parsons comes strolling through this office, blond curls bouncing, all buttoned up in a big hound’s-tooth coat and some tragically modest dress. Mm. Wool tights the color of cream. And yet, I can still almost taste her through all those layers. I know her flavor… and it’s vanilla.

  She shrugs off the bulky coat, revealing high, round breasts and a slim, girlish figure in a clingy sweater dress. I’m too old for her—the president of a charity run through her university—but hell, I feel young. Especially for someone who’s going to be fifty. In nine years, but still.

  I doubt my circulation has ever been better than it is when Rose comes to visit.

  This is her third year coming to me, pleading with those big doe eyes. I take one look, and I’m gone. The checkbook is out.

  “Stuart,” Rose greets me breathlessly, as she settles into a chair across from my desk and crosses her legs. The wool tights make them only more shapely and mysterious. Besides, there’s something so sexy about a woman whose undergarment can be made into restraints with the perfect amount of give... “Merry Christmas.”

  A thin golden cross necklace catches the light, and I scowl at it before my eyes flick back to hers.

  “Probably not,” I reply with a charming smile and a wink, “but we’ll see.” I loosen my jacket and shrug it off, never removing my eyes from hers. “Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

  I’m rewarded with a good, deep blush, and her eyes focus on the floor at her feet. “Nice, of course,” she says, and her fingers clasp that crucifix. She dares look at me and offers a meek smile. “After the relief effort in Cuba, I just see the world differently. There’s so much need. And we have such an opportunity to give, Mr. Goldman.” A premature pitch. She must be nervous.

  “Stuart,” I correct her. She used to call me Mr. Goldman but I conditioned that out of her. Still, every now and then, it pops up.

  “Right. Stuart.” I love her sexy voice wrapped around my name like that. Her gaze tilts down to my mouth, and then up again. “Your contribution alone built over twenty hospitals in South America. My chapter got to build one.”

  I smirk at her and shake my head. Why does she do this to me? She knows she’s going to get the money. I know I’m going to give it to her. Not only have I caved to United for Global Health every year but I’ve given her more each year. But she still insists on going through her spiel about all their accomplishments.

  I just want to flirt with her.

  “How about you, Rose?” I ask. “How has your year been? You must be close to graduating.”

  “This spring.” She nods and purses her lips to stifle a proud smile. “Then I’m going to be the one needing a charity fund.”

  She laughs at herself but I don’t laugh with her. I know the details of every person who walks into my office. It’s part of my security. Rose can only afford to attend college because of all the scholarships she earned. She’s been an excellent student and will hopefully get an amazing job after all this but she’s developed most of her experience with the charity work. Launching herself into the job market will be the true test, and my heart aches for her.

  It’s a cold world out there.

  I’d give to United for Global Health no matter who they sent to make their case but sending this little cream puff is unfair. No man could say no to those eyes.

  I’m soft for worrying about her but I do. I can’t help that.

  “Maybe you’ll get lucky,” I say. “I’m going to give you a number here, and you let me know if it’s enough.” I snatch my checkbook from my desk and scribble down a number in the top corner. “Have any plans for the holidays?”

  Rose’s mouth turns down into a pout. How much of this “good girl” thing is all an act? She’s a vixen to me… but maybe even she doesn’t know that yet. “I always just stay on campus. I love Christmas but...” Her eyes go distant and soft. “I’m not close with my family anymore.”

  I rip the check from the book and slide it across the table. Rose leans forward to take it, and her creamy fingertips brush mine.

  A rush of blood surges down to my dick, jolting him awake, and I’m thankful for the desk between us. I want her savagely but I’ll never take that which doesn’t belong to me. If I ever have her, it will be because she lays herself down in front of me.

  After that, I can’t make any promises of gentility.

  Rose looks down and yelps, shooting out of her seat as if electrocuted. “Oh, Stuart!” she cries, eyelashes fluttering, and my eyelashes flutter a little, too. The stiffness in my cock maddens me. “This is so generous!”

  “It’s nothing,” I tell her. Her petite frame is highlighted in the sunlight pouring in from the window behind my desk. Her hair is a goddamn cloud of gold. “Staying on campus seems like such a lonely way to spend Christmas.” I can’t believe I’ve never asked her before, even knowing about the family she came from: drug charges, jail time, then adoptive parents who were just gaming the welfare system. Maybe especially because I knew about the family that she came from, I’ve never asked about those holiday plans.

  “It’s fine,” she says. “Thank you again for your donation, Stuart.” I love hearing her thank me. I wish I could give her more than money to remember me by. “This blows my donation out of the water by a long shot!”

  “I didn’t know you donated as well.” I raise and button my jacket again, reaching forward to take her hand and give it a shake. This is our custom but I completely forgot that I’ve also got a raging boner.

  Rose’s hand slides into mine, and her eyes drift down to the turgid member poking at my trousers. They cloud with lust, maybe even curiosity, and then her gaze flicks up to my
face and clears.

  “Of course,” she answers with a swallow. “I probably sank too much money into United for Global Health but... I just can’t stop.”

  I love hearing her say those words: I just can’t stop.

  “Oh, Rose,” I murmur to her, slinging my arm around the curvaceous small of her back. I guide her toward the exit. She’s so small in my embrace but it’s also a perfect fit. “How could any one woman—a college student, for God’s sake—be so damn good?”

  “For God’s sake, I guess,” she answers. Her eyes turn up to mine as we reach the door, and I suddenly feel the danger I couldn’t feel before. It’s in those eyes. Touching is okay... as long as we don’t make eye contact. My rager stirs again. “Every time I think that I want something...” she goes on, eyes mercilessly glued to mine, “I remember how much other people need.”

  My finger sweeps under her chin, tilting her face. So close. So vulnerable. If I crushed my lips against hers right here, would she pull away? “They’re not the only ones in need. You can want something and take it, Rose. Take it. There’s nothing wrong with that. Taking is how I got into the position where I can give.”

  “Right,” Rose croaks. “Just take it.”

  Are we still talking about money?

  “Don’t tell me this is going to be the last time I see you.” I’m certain that it will be. United for Global Health is ran through the college, and she won’t be a student anymore.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Rose begins, her eyelashes flashing down. A shock of hair falls into her face and she pushes her spring-like locks of gold hair back out of her face.

  There’s a sharp knock at my office door, and Rose jolts. The connection of my finger on her chin is broken, and the spell with it. Damn it.

  “Yes?” I hiss.

  My secretary’s meek voice bleeds through the door. “Your two o’clock is here, sir,” she informs me.