by Opal Carew
FROM THE AUTHORS
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading! Jennifer and I hope you enjoyed BONDAGE ON 34TH STREET, a tale that spins off from my Carina Press books MENAGE ON 34TH STREET and DIAL M FOR MENAGE (Tasha’s sister, Kat, and her two lovers), as well as Jennifer’s Loose Id novel DECLARATION TO SUBMIT (the world of Sasha’s brother, Master A).
While writing about Tasha, Noah and Ty, Jennifer and I realized these three lovers have much more story in them than we originally anticipated. Sign up for our newsletter today and follow us on Facebook so you won’t miss out on Tasha, Noah and Ty’s full-length novel journey to a Happy Ever After, scheduled for release late 2014.
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All our best,
Emily Ryan-Davis & Jennifer Leeland
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
EMILY RYAN-DAVIS is a lifelong East Coaster whose passion for the written word saw her through jobs writing obituaries, press releases and grants before she decided “I’m going to do this” and sat down to write a book. And then she wrote a book. Several, actually, in a variety of steamy romance sub-genres.
Life has undergone many changes since that first book. Now she spends her days writing full-time and parenting even-fuller-time. All the usual author loves apply, with chocolate, coffee and cats at the top the list.
JENNIFER LEELAND never considered herself a writer…
I loved Harlequin romances when I was little and used to sneak them from my mother’s bookshelf. But my father influenced me with Agatha Christie, Ngiao Marsh and Arthur Conan Doyle. I finally wrote my first completed novel in 2005 and never looked back.
It has been a fabulous journey. I have a special relationship with my characters, who both annoy me and inspire me. And yes, they talk to me. In the shower. In the car. When I’m trying to sleep. Many have asked me why I write erotic romance. Believe me, it would probably be easier to write something my mom could tell her friends about. But I love the emotion, the conflict, the possibilities contained in erotic romance. When I read, I want to indulge in fantasies. I hope I can do the same for others.
I live with a Redneck, who loves to brainstorm with me on occasion, and my two dirt faced Okie kids in the Northern California Boonies. I’ve published with Cobblestone Press, Liquid Silver Books, Loose-Id LLC., Samhain Publishing, and Whiskey Creek Press. I’m a moderator for the award winning writer’s forum Romance Divas where I’ve been a member since 2006.
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2014 by Emily Ryan-Davis and Jennifer Leeland
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Bondage on 34th Street/ Emily Ryan-Davis and Jennifer Leeland -- 1st ed.
REMASTERED
REMASTERED
A Black Halo Novelette
By
Madelynne Ellis
www.madelynne-ellis.com
REMASTERED
Copyright © Madelynne Ellis 2014. Violators will be forced to re-enact that book with my neighbour’s dog, while wearing a corset made of living bees. Twice.
Edited by Sandra Barkevich
Cover Art by Madelynne Ellis
www.madelynne-ellis.com
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or to events or places is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
About the Book
REMASTERED ~ A bad experience with a former girlfriend caused Spook Mortensen to repress his sexual urges, but when sound engineer Allegra Hutton is called upon to remaster Black Halo’s first album, there’s only so much of her attitude and stubborn refusal to listen to the band’s wishes he can take before he’s forced to break his self-imposed vow and take her in hand.
This novelette takes place after the events of Come Undone and All Night Long, but before the start of Come Together.
Chapter One
“I’ve got it,” Allegra Hatton assured Black Halo’s manager, trying to sound confident, despite the fact that he intimidated the hell out of her. Graham Callahan was a giant of a man in every sense, and he was being rather more specific about how he envisaged the sound of the end product than she was used to. Typically, when she was hired to remaster old recordings, she was left to make the judgement calls for herself.
“I want a cleaner, smoother sound. Bring out the melody more. Emphasize Xane’s voice over the guitars and drums. It’s far too discordant at the moment. The damn track beats you senseless it’s so belligerent.”
So, she feared, would he, if she didn’t deliver.
“You’re getting this aren’t you?” He loomed over her, lower lip wobbling. He had a habit of closing in as he stressed each point, and spraying her with phlegm. Hence, during the course of their conversation, they’d migrated some distance along the corridor away from the mixing room door.
To Allegra, it seemed she was being chased from the building. Too new to be working with Black Halo, the voice inside her head kept taunting. Any minute he’s going to tell you to forget it and call in someone less fresh faced. It was miraculous enough that she’d been hired for the task in the first place when there were so many more experienced people they could have used. She’d only been working in the industry six-months in a paid capacity.
OK, deep breath. She could do this. If she gave Graham Callahan what he wanted, he could make doors open for her. Not that fulfilling his wishes would be easy. What he was asking her to do would necessitate remixing the individual instruments, maybe even re-recording them, something that was way outside of her usual remit. Her expertise was in digitizing old analogue recordings and remastering them for re-release.
“Ms Hutton, you are getting this?”
“Absolutely. It won’t be a problem.”
“Good.” He grinned broadly, obviously thrilled with her response. “Just see that we stay on the same wavelength and you aren’t side-tracked by the band pulling you in different directions.”
“The band?” Were they here? Normally she worked in isolation. Her job involved manipulating the sound using a palette of software tools. She couldn’t see how having them around, listening in, would really contribute. On the other hand, getting to meet the band— yes, please!—she’d been an enormous Black Halo fan ever since her college days. Her outfit today was chosen in honour of that—black lacy top, worn with a slash of scarlet lipst
ick, although, she’d then tempered her wild child look with a sensible pinstriped skirt so as to appear professional.
Lord—the thought of getting close to rhythm guitarist Spook Mortensen made her whole body flush with excitement. Spook fired up her imagination in a very particular and compelling way. She dreamed about mister, tall, blonde and gorgeous pinning her against a wall, or a door, or any other inanimate, immovable object and claiming her as his personal plaything for years. Spook Mortensen shredded like the devil possessed him. He was willowy and lean, and when she looked at his eyes, she knew there were secrets held in them. Secrets she prayed were very much akin to her own.
If Spook was here, she was going to have to keep a very tight grip on herself so as not to turn into a squeeing limpet in his presence.
Alle bowed her head so that Graham wouldn’t notice the flush beginning to creep across her cheeks as she imagined the supple caress of Spook’s lips teasing the back of her neck. “Get down on your knees,” he’d tell her and wait for her to comply. He’d capture her long hair in his hand as he nudged her towards worshipping his cock, and then when she balked he’d upend her across his knee.
She fantasized a lot about what Spook Mortensen might make her do, most of it while she was rendered helpless in some way, though normally she hated being told what to do. There were too many men in this industry that seemed to think a woman in the mixing room was incomprehensible. Lord knows why. There was no heavy lifting involved, and her ears worked just as well as theirs.
“The boys can be very persuasive,” Graham insisted, intruding upon her thoughts. “I trust you can stand up to their charms, and turn this track into the chart success it should be.”
“No problem. Absolutely. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”
She was going to do this and prove to her peers exactly how good a sound engineer she was, while doing her upmost best not to drool at the same time.
Chapter Two
Spook Mortensen stopped playing guitar the moment she walked in.
He forgot the riff he’d been working on for most of the morning. Temporarily forgot how to even play guitar. In fact, why was he holding a guitar again? Especially one that wasn’t connected to an amp?
He gaped at the woman who was blinking at the gloomy light in the editing studio, hardly able to credit what he was seeing. He saw a lot of women, and none of them made him sit up like this. She was right out of his subconscious. Tall. With an old-fashioned pin-up girl figure, and flame-red hair that cascaded down her back forming ringlets at the ends.
Where was his camera?
Like, damn, where was his camera?
She was perfect fantasy material in every way, right down to her straight, no nonsense, pinstriped skirt. She looked very professional, unlike him and his two band mates in their scruffy T-shirts and jeans. The three of them had tumbled into the studio looking as if they’d come straight from an all-night party, with bloodshot eyes and more than a little stubble. He rubbed his jaw. Yeah, definitely in need of a shave. Still, at least he’d put in an appearance. Elspeth and Paul hadn’t shown up at all. Not that there was a whole lot for them to do. Ultimately, lead singer Xane would be the one who said yea or nay to the remastered track before it was re-released because he was their main composer.
“Hi. I’m Allegra Hutton. Alle, like Allie, but without the I.” The vision stepped forward with her hand outstretched for one of them to take. Xane nodded his head at her. Ash mumbled a vague affirmative, and yawned. He seemed to have mislaid his charm this morning. Normally, Ash only had to flash a girl a smile and she got all giggly and started playing with her hair—or him. Actually, mostly the latter. They usually found some reason to touch him.
Allegra—Alle had hair like spun copper, thick enough that you could bury your hands in it. That’s what he wanted to touch, along with each of the freckles on her nose and her cute bow-shaped lips.
Spook sat on his hands, wary of what might happen if he gave in to that desire. Already, a thousand pretty pictures were streaming through his mind’s eye, not one of them even remotely appropriate and all of them too tempting by far. He bet she’d look fantastic sprawled across the mixing board, her long legs splayed and her sensible skirt hitched up so he could see the creamy cheeks of her bottom, and maybe the odd curl of fiery red hair. How good would she look with a white-stripe across her arse from the lick of a leather belt?
Why the fuck hadn’t he brought his camera?
Because they were here to make music, or at least re-make it, that’s why. And who was he going to get her to pose with anyway? Both Xane and Ash had somehow gotten themselves attached, which was darned inconsiderate if you asked him, at least, at this moment.
He wasn’t going to touch her. He wasn’t even interested in a fling. Relationships were frankly too much effort. It was problematic enough keeping the members of the band talking to one another without the additional stress of maintaining a romantic attachment. Especially the sort of attachment he’d be looking for given his atypical tastes. He hadn’t come across such a woman for years.
Not that he’d been looking.
And well, the last time hadn’t exactly ended well. He still had the letters to prove it.
No—life was a lot simpler if he just internalized his particular kinks. Then, there was no chance of misunderstandings occurring regarding consensuality.
That didn’t stop his palms from itching though, or a fuzzy glow spreading through his body when she smiled at him.
It made him eternally thankful that he had a guitar across his lap.
Spook smiled back, to compensate for the fact that they were all being hopelessly rude by failing to accept her handshake. But he couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t…
Damn, this lady needed issuing with a hazard warning sign. She was like a little piece of ecstasy just waiting to happen. He attempted to wrestle his gaze off her and onto something more innocuous, like his feet, but it didn’t work. His gaze just kept on sliding right back to where it started—her perfectly formed heart-shaped face.
Damned, if she didn’t have a delightful heart-shaped bottom too.
“Mr Mortensen.” His dream lady addressed him directly. She gazed at him with her pretty blue eyes aglow with excitement. “It’s an absolute thrill to meet you. I’m awed, you’re awesome. It’s insane the way your fingers fly when you play. You’re my favourite guitarist ever.”
“Uh, thanks.” His tongue got stuck in his mouth. He wasn’t used to being singled out. Maybe the guys were giving off weird I’m attached pheromones or something. “You know I’m only rhythm. Ash is lead.”
“You’re better.” Her smile lighted up the room and lighted up his insides too.
Damn! He officially crowned her as queen of his bikini list—as in break out the radiation shields because she’s totally going to screw with your equilibrium. Touching her without having a Hazmat suit on would result in lasting damage. Just her radiance was causing him severe motor issues. He’d forgotten how the hell to speak. Instead he made a few halfwit type noises.
“Don’t be shy, the lady’s right.” Ash slid his sunglasses down his nose, so he could peep over the top of them. His grin was broad as he looked at Spook and then back at Alle. “You’ll not get him to admit it, but he can play better with two strings than I can with six. That’s right, isn’t it, Spooky man?” Ash slapped a hand against Spook’s thigh to make his point.
A little flash of lightning brightened Alle’s gaze at the sound of the smack.
Spook watched her tongue peep out and sweep across her lower lip, removing some of her scarlet lipstick. The trace of pink it revealed made him want to reach out and wipe away the rest. He liked his women au naturel, so he could see every blush, every hint of arousal.
Ash was now staring at him as if he couldn’t quite figure what was going on, and Alle remained in apparent awe.
“Not to interrupt or anything, but who are you?” Xane stepped in. He was head to foot in black, without
a splash of colour anywhere, and looked bloody intimidating when he towered over them. His motion caused Alle to edge away.
“I’m sorry, didn’t I say. I’m the mastering engineer that’s been hired to fix your song.”
She was a sound engineer!
“You’re a sound engineer.” He was glad to see Ash was equally surprised by that fact. Music techs weren’t normally even remotely this cute. On the other hand, that didn’t bode well for his inner balance. As it was, he had to adjust the position of his guitar across his lap.
Xane scowled. “It doesn’t need fixing. It isn’t broken.”
“Tidying up, then.” She smiled uneasily at Xane. Scary bastard was intimidating her.
“It doesn’t need that either.”
Xane considered the precision of every note and word he wrote. He thought about their image, and meanings and the symbolism of their songs constantly. The man believed in perfection. If he said something was right the way it was, then it was right the way it was, but he didn’t need to be so vehement about it.
“All it needs is lifting from one source to another.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Ash drove his knuckles against Xane’s broad shoulder, before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “Lighten up and cut her some slack.” He turned on his mesmeric grin, causing a rosy glow to spread across Alle’s cheeks. “I’m always up for some spit and shine.”
Xane groaned, but resumed his seat. “I don’t want to know about your dirty habits, Ashley.”
