Loose Corset
Christine Rains
Dice and Debauchery, Book 1
A weekend away at a convention is exactly what overworked student Morgan needs. Dressed as her character from her favorite online game, Morgan is braced—seriously, could her corset be tighter?—to meet the other players. As Lady Gyrfalcon, she’s ready for everything—except her intense attraction to Dean. A clandestine meeting in the hallway of the hotel and Morgan’s corset is looser but now she can’t breathe for entirely different reasons.
Utterly charmed, Morgan decides to roll the dice and indulge in a fantasy-worthy weekend of sexy roleplaying, scorching sex and life-altering orgasms. Still, through it all Morgan is too smart to believe the chemistry constantly stripping her of costumes and control can last more than the length of the convention. But if she wants to keep a relationship so intense she thought it only existed in fiction, she’s going to have to let go of her cool-headed logic and allow herself to fall far and fast for the perfect guy.
A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Loose Corset
Christine Raines
Chapter One
Geek girl problem #31: Your flat-chested best friend is a cosplayer who tries to fit you into her costumes when you’re built like Rose Tyler from Doctor Who.
“My boobs are touching my chin.” I tugged at the bottom of my corset and then thought better of it. All it would take was one wrong move and I’d spill out everywhere. What in the world had possessed me to wear this thing?
“They are not,” Emily snipped as the elevator doors shut, giving us a moment alone inside the car. The orc barbarian on the Welcome to Gen Con 2014 poster glared at us.
Ah yes, a pushy best friend.
Emily pursed her rouged lips then yanked my hand away from the corset. “Well, lift your head and they won’t. Stop being a baby, Morgan. You look good.”
Okay, maybe I did look all right. The costume was exactly what my character from our online role-playing group would wear. Black riding skirt with knee-high boots and gloves that extended most of the way up my arms, with sheaths on my forearms for the blades. Plus an over-the-bust S-bend corset. All meticulously handcrafted by Emily.
But that was beside the point! I could hardly breathe. To take a deep breath, I’d likely break the laces. How was someone supposed to feel sexy if they couldn’t move properly?
“The whole group will be there tonight. Do you understand how big this is?” Emily ruffled her skirts, showing off more of her fishnet-clad legs. A plastic pistol was strapped to her skinny right thigh. “We all said we’d dress as our characters from Steampunk Quest. It’ll be like the game has come to life, and since you’re the resistance leader, you have to have your outfit done right.”
The bell dinged and the elevator bumped once as it came to a stop at the lobby. I sighed. “Because I look so much like Geneve Gyrfalcon.”
“And I look like Cora Osprey the Third. That’s not the point.” The doors whooshed open as Emily rolled her eyes. Her heels clicked on the tiles as she stepped out of the elevator. “We’re just having a bit of fun. It’ll make it more comfortable for everyone to get to know one another if we can fall back on our characters. Nerds aren’t exactly the most social savvy of folks.”
“Thank you, Madame Obvious.” I snorted and followed. I wrapped my arms around my body, but there was no way to cover my chest. I should’ve demanded a jacket to go with the outfit.
Two young men in Victorian-styled coats waved at us from near the front entrance. I nipped my lower lip. This was it. Two years of gaming online with these people. A game I loved more than any other. I stuffed all my fears of how meeting would affect the game into a mental closet and bolted it.
I could be Geneve Gyrfalcon for one night. Chin up. Time to have some fun.
Emily ran across the lobby. “Josh! Andrew! Oh my god! Love the jackets!”
I didn’t dare run. Too much jiggle.
The guys were exactly as they’d described themselves. Josh, tall and scruffy with black-framed glasses, and Andrew, short and clean shaven. Looked like he’d nicked himself with a razor a few times. From the way his hand shook when he took mine, I could guess why.
“Lady Gyrfalcon.” Andrew kissed the back of my hand and then did the same to Emily’s. “Lady Osprey.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Captain Cashan.” Emily curtsied, giggling behind a hand in an overly dramatic ladylike manner. “And you as well, Sir Edgehill.”
It was easier to fall into character than I expected, but I was relieved to let Emily take the lead in it all. When Patrick and Sydney arrived, the LARPing went into full swing. Patrick’s beard was the envy of every male that passed by, and Sydney’s gigantic bosom made mine feel tiny by comparison.
I was content to fade into the background until the last two members of our group approached. There was no mistaking them. My breath hitched in my throat. As if I didn’t have trouble breathing already! A spark of heat ignited between my legs and bloomed in my cheeks.
Russell was the eldest member of our group at thirty, but still dashing with his handlebar mustache and dapper suit. He carried a cane with an ornate silver head. But it was his cousin Dean that made my flesh tingle with the thought of his gloved hands upon it. His long black coat flared out behind him as he strode toward us with his sword bumping against his side. Goggles rested upon his head, mussing his dark-brown locks which framed a long but gorgeous face.
Oh damn. Their characters were rivals. I shouldn’t be mooning over him!
Introductions echoed in my ears. Did I stutter? I couldn’t hear myself so well. Wait…were my nipples hard? God, I hoped no one could see them through the cups of the corset. What an idiot I was to have let Emily put me in the blasted thing!
The group headed into the hotel pub. The dim lighting only added to the weird haze. I banged my hip against a divider and stifled a grunt of pain, hoping no one noticed my lack of grace. Glancing over my shoulder, it appeared no one saw except, wait, was Dean staring at my ass? Stomach fluttering, I looked away before he realized I had caught him at it.
Finding a corner table, drinks and food were ordered. We fell in and out of character, but so many laughs were had, none of us cared. Just like online, everyone got along wonderfully. And just like in our private forum, I was the quiet one. I listened and laughed and stole peeks at Dean sitting three chairs away from me.
The photos of him online were a gross misinterpretation of how good-looking he truly was. Not super tall and muscled, but lean and sleek, lounging like a lazy cat. He was a fencer, right? Or was it his cousin? I couldn’t remember. It was so hard to think straight when images of what he might look like wearing only those goggles flashed through my head.
“Still plotting my demise, Lady Gyrfalcon?” It wasn’t Russell’s voice but his cane tapping against my squished bust that jerked me out of my fantasy. “This is just a friendly meal amongst compatriots. Of course, if you truly would like to kill me, I’d be happy to take you to my room for a drink and give you an opportunity to make your move.”
My face flamed with color as everyone chuckled. Gyrfalcon did wish Attwell Slator dead. He was a slick politician, the devil in disguise. And had he just poked my boobs?
I grabbed the head of the cane and tossed my head back. “If you would, Governor, keep your skinny little rod to yourself, lest I give in to the urge to snap it in half.”
Every male at the table cringed. Emily applauded and Sydney held up her fist to be bumped.
“When I kill you, you will not see it coming, and it certainly won’t be in the comfort of your suite.” I stood, feeling Gyrfalcon strengthening me, and swept my gaze across the table. Was Dean smirking? His lips pursed with it just slight
ly. Delicious. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must attend to some business.”
I rapped my fist against Sydney’s with a wink and walked away to the restrooms. One breath. All I needed was one good breath.
Inside the women’s bathroom, I loosened the laces and sucked in several deep breaths. My breasts, the traitors, popped out a few times, but I stuffed them back in as I used a hand to fan myself. I wanted to blame the corset for making me so hot, but one look at Dean had done me in. I’d need a cold shower to help me sleep tonight.
After blotting my chest with a cool paper towel, I realized I couldn’t do the corset back up myself. And I’d left my cell back in the room. Frak!
Think clearly. Be rational. What would the Doctor do?
He wouldn’t be wearing this ridiculous contraption to begin with.
The hallway where the bathrooms were was pretty dark. Maybe I could wave Emily over. If Emily could turn her attention away from the guys.
Taking one more deep breath, I stepped into the hall and peered over at their table. I bit at my lower lip. Emily’s back was to me, but Sydney might be able to see me. I waved, holding on to the corset with one hand. When no one noticed, I wondered if I should shout.
Wait. There was an empty chair. His chair.
“Did you need a hand?” Dean’s breath was warm against my bare shoulder.
I turned slowly. My arm brushed him because he stood so close. With my heart pounding, I couldn’t find my voice. God, he was glorious. And when he smiled, an impish glint shone in those sexy hazel eyes.
Two cold showers tonight. No, three.
Wetting my lips, I forced myself to say something, anything that would be less embarrassing than just standing there drooling. “Come to kill me in a dark alley, Sir Thorton? Catch me unaware and undo the resistance in one silent motion?”
Dean’s grin widened. “Who said my plan was ever to kill you? You always assume, but you know so little of my desires.”
His words flowed smoothly, lilting toward an English accent. My knees threatened to give out. My lower abdomen tightened as a new rush of heat raced through me. How I wanted to know his desires. Intimately.
“I know of your ambitions. And how you’re in the Governor’s debt. With a drink in one hand, he points with the other, and you kill.” I could write dialogue for Gyrfalcon in my sleep. Normally I’d be sharp about it, not all husky and sultry. I grasped the leather of the corset tighter as my nipples threatened to poke over the top.
Dean lifted a hand, pausing to show it was empty, and tenderly brushed a curly lock of my hair back from my face. “I might be in his debt, but I am not his dog. What would you do if I told you,” he leaned in, his right cheek grazing my left, “I was a double agent? I work for him only to bring him down. I want to work with you.”
My heart skipped a beat. The heat of his body called to mine. I wanted nothing more than to drop the stupid corset and press myself against him. Squeezing my thighs together, I tried to contain the ache between my legs. “A double agent, hmm? How do I know you’re not trying to con me?”
“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already. All I can offer you is my word.” He eased back only a few inches, enough to stare into my eyes. His fingers lingered on my neck. He smelled of leather and Irish Spring soap. Somehow it was immensely exotic.
“What if I say it isn’t enough?” My question was a gruff whisper.
“Then I’ll have to convince you it’s your side I want to be on.”
Before I could ask how, his lips claimed mine. My eyes fluttered closed. It was no gentle kiss, but neither was it rough and inexperienced. Was this part of his act? And if it was, did I care?
Nope. Not one bit!
My arms wound around his middle and under his coat as our bodies came together. The pommel of his sword poked my hip, and I was tempted to make a joke about it. Is that a blade or are you just happy to see me? Lame. So lame. And besides, my mouth had better things to do.
Our tongues tangled as he moaned into the kiss. Dean pushed me back into the deeper darkness of the hall and to the side where there was a fire door, locked and unlit. I dipped my hands down and under the bottom of his shirt to touch his flesh. Even through my gloves, I could tell he was as hot as I was and trembling slightly.
My corset slipped when one of my hardened nubs rubbed against a button on his coat and sent a fiery lance right down to my molten core. I gasped and jerked back a little. The corset sat awkwardly upon my hips. Our kiss broke as both of us looked down at my bared chest.
My first instinct was to yank up the garment and flee to the safety of my room. But his intake of breath stopped me. He gaped, eyes wide and lips parted.
Dean’s fingers followed an invisible trail from my neck over my collarbone to the swell of my breasts. “Beautiful.”
My skin sizzled where his fingers had been and my breasts heaved, begging to be touched.
Guys had always liked my big boobs. It was probably the only reason I ever got any action. No one liked wild, curly hair like River Song’s or the freckles that tarnished my skin as if I’d been counting the times I’d seen the Silence. But the way Dean said that, as if he was worshiping them. Me? No guy had ever said such a thing.
I mashed my mouth to his again, passion exploding. My fingers dug into his back as he cupped one breast. It overflowed in his hand, jiggling as if demanding more. He kneaded the soft orb and flicked his thumb over my already supersensitive nipple. My whimper gave him incentive to do it again and then traced around the nub before tugging upon it.
Dean’s mouth left mine and was fast upon that hard nipple. Licking, sucking, dragging his teeth lightly over it.
A hot mess didn’t even begin to describe the way I felt. I couldn’t form a coherent thought. All my sensors were fried, sending me flying into a lusty wormhole that would take me God knows where. And I wanted nothing more than to lose myself in it. In him.
Turning his attention to the other breast, Dean groped it and sucked upon it until I gave a tiny cry. He kissed up to my neck and traced his tongue along my jugular, flicking my earlobe with the tip of it.
I reached up with one hand, running my fingers through his hair, careful of the goggles. Another mental flash of him naked and hard with only the goggles on pushed my hips against his.
Oh, he was hard. And thick. Much more impressive than his sword.
A sound like a groan and a growl vibrated up from his throat. So sexy. I thrust my hips against him again and was rewarded by the same hybrid rumble.
More fiery kisses. Uncontrollable. I was crazed, like a barbarian with bloodlust. Except this was lust lust. Yup, deep thoughts, thy name is Morgan Reid.
Dean reached down and nudged the corset out of his way to rub between my legs. I jolted and moaned, pressing against his palm with a demand for more. How I could be so sensitive through the layers of clothes, I didn’t know, but if he kept stroking me like that, I was going to come right there in the back of the pub.
I raised one leg, circling it around his, Dean and the wall the only things keeping me on my feet at the moment.
But I wasn’t going to let him miss out on the fun. Or was it just my own desire to touch his cock, to feel it throb in my hand? I didn’t care. It didn’t matter. I found the bulge in his pants and stroked the length of his swollen penis.
He murmured something against my mouth, but between our heavy breathing and the blood rushing in my ears, I didn’t catch it. I reveled in his sensuality. The way his lips moved against mine and how his fingers knew just where to caress. He could’ve been a sexbot programmed just to pleasure me.
“More.” Did I say that out loud?
My fingers discovered the buttons of his fly and tugged them open. Whether he wore boxers or briefs, I couldn’t tell. All that mattered was there was the hole to coax his erection from and I finally wrapped my hand around it.
He was thicker than I’d imagined. My fingers and thumb just managed to touch. Hot and hard, he twitched in my gr
ip when I gave him that first stroke.
“Fuck.” Dean nipped at my lower lip. Fondling a breast with one hand, he attempted to find a way into my skirt with the other. The waist was high, though, and it was fastened together at my side. His frustration came out through a grunt.
Releasing his erection, I swiftly maneuvered the corset and undid my skirt for him. I moved my hand fast onto that thick cock again, jerking him with more fervor. The weight of his balls bounced with each tug.
Dean dug his hand down the front of my skirt and into my panties. His fingers slid past the tuft of hair to ease along my slit. So wet and slick. I’d never had such a reaction to a guy before.
He didn’t tease me. Two digits spread my labia as one plunged inside me. I cried out against his mouth. My toes curled as my body quivered, rocketing toward an orgasm that was coming faster than the Enterprise doing warp nine.
I twisted my fist with each stroke. The head of his erection brushed against my hip. How I wished I could feel the satiny sleekness of his flesh, but he had gloves on. Kinky in a way, but I wanted more of him. I needed him without the layers of leather and buried deep inside me.
A second finger pushed up into my tight confines with the first. His palm rubbed against my clit as his hand moved quicker than mine.
No man had ever gotten me off this way before. But there had been no one else like Dean in my life. A few nerdy boyfriends, but none as blazing hot as him.
His cock swelled, signaling his closeness to climax. Dean kissed along my neck and pressed his mouth there to muffle his cry as he came. The heat of his cum as it splattered over my hand was diminished by my glove.
The victory of bringing him to climax surged through me. The last ingredient in the elixir of my own orgasm. I bit down on my lip as I shuddered with the power of it. Soaring and free. Ecstasy was too little a word to contain this feeling.
It might’ve lasted for hours for all I knew. We stood leaning against one another, breathing heavily and lightly shaking. The bittersweet scent of his semen tickled my nose, underlined by my muskier perfume. It intoxicated me far more than the stout I’d had earlier.
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