Mastered: Ten Tales of Sensual Surrender

by Opal Carew

  “So how long are you down range this time, Grange?”

  “Just a quick tour and I’ll be back in no time. It’s my last deployment before I retire and neither my wife nor I can wait.”

  “I understand that, for sure. Let your sweetie know that if she needs some company while you’re gone she’s welcome to come over in her pj’s and watch corny movies with me any time. I’ll even provide the popcorn.”

  “Thanks, Solie. I appreciate that, ma’am. Take care.”

  The moment she closed the door, Burt wrapped her up in his arms and whispered, “I’m staying here today. You’re not going to your office across town either. It’s him, Solie. Coming in and out. Now we know why that key disappeared out of the spare key drawer.”

  And why the back door had been unlocked when she was sure she’d locked it. Hell, even Mac had caught it a time or two.

  “But that key isn’t missing. I just misplaced it or something.”

  “Think about it, Solie. The key that you don’t use was suddenly missing from its proper spot. You only noticed because you were looking for it to give to me. After we used your own key off your key ring to make mine, suddenly, the missing key reappears out of nowhere? We brushed it off, but now we know that one of those times he showed up to bring you your mail, he snagged that fucking key. Then used his own copy to come inside and put the key back.”

  She knew Burt was right. Knew it down to her toes. But denial felt like a safer place, so that’s where she decided to hang out just now.

  “Uh, okay, Burt. So, why would he show himself a few houses down if he could have just come inside?”

  The image of her bedroom door sliding silently closed this morning made her feel as if someone had just walked over her grave. What if…? No. No, it couldn’t have been. She refused to believe it. Burt was just being paranoid.”

  “I can’t speak to the man’s motive, Solie. At all. Maybe the neighbors are right, maybe they’re not. But we’re not taking any chances. Now, get dressed and let’s go see a movie.”

  “But you have work today. I have work today.”

  “Unless someone is going to die if you don’t work today, you are taking the day off. And so am I.”

  “Fine. But if you’re going to make me go see a movie, then I wanna see something with hot men and stuff that goes boom.

  “You’re on, woman.” With a grin, Burt pulled out his mobile, made a quick call and just like that, he’d rescheduled a building walk-through and a design planning session. And none of Solie’s clients worked on the weekends so she didn’t have to call anyone.

  Jogging pants exchanged for a cute skirt and sandals, hand-in-hand, they were out the door for a matinee. And Solie was so happy and comforted she stuffed the weird run-in with that guy into a sack with all the other shit that had been bugging her. In her head, she set it on fire and threw it off a cliff.

  * * * * *

  “I never thought I’d like a sequel better than the original but that movie was just…” Solie stopped short, whirled around to the man at her back and said, “Burt, why would you do that?”

  “Do what?” he asked, helping her out of her sweater.

  “That.” She pointed to Mims who had her big butt up on the couch eating dog food out of a can. “You know she’s not allowed on the couch. And to give her wet food out of a can? That’s not even the stuff we feed her.”

  Annoyed, Solie bore down on her poor dog she almost felt bad when Mims cowered just a bit. She snatched the can of smelly cheap dog food and headed to the kitchen to throw it away.

  A gentle but firm hand wrapped around her biceps and halted her steps.

  “Solie, wait. Call 911. Now.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You asked why I would feed the dog on the couch. But I’ve been with you since lunchtime yesterday. The only time I left you was to get Dunkin’ Donuts super early this morning. When did you see me go buy this funky ass dog food and give it to the dog on the couch?”

  Oooh, he had a point.

  “Call the police, Solie. I’m going to have a look around.”

  “Okay.” Her stomach dropped into her shoes. Oh God. “No problem.” This couldn’t be happening. The neighbor had told her someone had been coming in and out while she was gone. She didn’t want to believe it even though he described her ex. But then again, it could have been any other tall, buff dude, right?

  Okay, stop. That thought didn’t make it any better.

  She headed toward the stairs. She’d call 911, but after she got out of these high-heeled sandals and changed into something a bit more comfortable.

  She turned the corner to head upstairs and ran smack into…Marcais.

  A scream ripped from her throat involuntarily as she scrambled backward.

  “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

  She couldn’t believe the baffled expression on his face, as if he was the surprised one. So he was off guard, eh? Good. The fucker.

  When he didn’t answer, Solie moved toward the phone across the living room. “I’m calling the police right now.”

  “Bitch, you pick up that phone and I swear…”

  Solie’s heart lodged in her throat when two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle stalked her way.

  Then Burt was there, standing between her and Marcais.

  “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this. Take one more step toward her. Give me an excuse to kick your ass. Any excuse will do.”

  Marcais might be brave enough to threaten a woman, but he wasn’t stupid by any stretch of the imagination. But unfortunately for him, he wasn’t that smart either.

  He took one step toward Solie.

  And in the next instant, he was flat on his back holding his jaw and his nuts.

  Burton Khrys did not tolerate threats to a female. Period.

  The police were on the way but unfortunately Marcais had recovered his ability to breathe before they arrived. He scrambled to his feet, backed away, and used his coat sleeve to open the door. Solie just shook her head. What point was there to making sure he had no prints on the door knob when she was looking right at him? Amazing.

  And after the police came and took their statements, Burt and Solie went on a little expedition in her house trying to figure out what the hell Marcais was doing up and down the stairs.

  What they found had her sitting with tears in her eyes and her mouth wide open and the sheriff was already on his way to the base to make the arrest. What the hell else had Marcais done that she was unaware of?

  One thing was for sure—she couldn’t pretend all was well anymore. Couldn’t bask in her own denial. The proof was in her hand.

  Cameras. Wireless little cameras.

  She’d been under surveillance and hadn’t even known it.

  Finally Burt pressed a shot of whisky into her left hand while he took her findings from her right hand and dropped them into a little baggie.

  Burt lifted the glass that remained untouched and cool against her fingers. He tipped it up and she obediently drank it as he spoke.

  “It’s a good thing he’s in jail or I’d kick his ass again. But now we know. And better to know what you’re dealing with that not.”

  She emptied the glass and while her gut still burned from that first shot, Burt poured her another. She downed it without hesitation and then let her man take her to bed.

  * * * * *

  And he knew just what she needed. As angry as she felt over this newest betrayal of trust by someone who was supposed to have loved her, what she needed was to feel cherished and loved. And that was something Burt could give her.

  “Strip and then put this on,” he said, handing her a robe identical to the one she’d worn at Twilight Teahouse just yesterday. The water is ready. So are the ropes. Are you?”

  “Oh God, yes. Always.”

  “Safe word?” he asked.

  Without hesitation, she replied, “kickass”. His woman might be fragile. She might even be broken. But she was not do
wn for the count by any stretch of the imagination.

  Multiple award-winning author TJ Michaels' book, Juicy, is the first book in her decadent new trilogy, Twilight Teahouse. Coming soon will be the second and third books, Luscious and Succulent. To see what TJ is up to, visit her website at http://www.tjmichaels.com and sign up for TJ ON A TANGENT at for first-looks and specials just for you.

  NO LIMITS

  NO LIMITS

  Kate Pearce

  Copyright © 2014 by Kate Pearce

  This book 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, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  KatePearce.com

  Chapter One

  “Doc, can you come out here?”

  I took out my ear buds and glanced over at the door where Lopez, my charge nurse was standing. I heard raised voices behind him. Not that unusual, even in our small ER, but loud enough for me to note a non-American distinctly Downton Abbey kind of accent. Whoever it belonged to wasn’t making all the noise, but despite the lack of shouting, his voice carried a note of command that shut everyone else down.

  “What’s up?” I wrapped up my half-eaten sandwich, wrote my name on the bag and put it back in the staff refrigerator, probably never to be seen again.

  “This guy brought a woman in. She’s bleeding from several blows to the face.”

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  “Adjudicate?”

  I sighed and got up. All those expensive years at medical school, all that debt, and I really needed to know was three things--how to spot the crazies, how to defend myself, and how to patch up people who weren’t grateful for my efforts in the slightest.

  As we talked, we approached the small group of people blocking one of the exits. A student doctor dabbed at the blood dripping from the patient’s face while a hospital administrator faced off with a tall man.

  “What’s going on?”

  Everyone turned toward me and opened their mouths. The administrator got in quickest.

  “This gentleman doesn’t seem to understand that I need some details from him before I can process this patient.”

  “Process her? What happened to treating an individual medically before you start trying to extract payment for your services? What century are we in?”

  My gaze swung around to the man with the withering British accent. He was dressed in an immaculate dark suit that fitted him to perfection. His tie was blue silk and his white shirt starched. But that wasn’t really what I noticed first. It was his eyes, which were the cold gray-blue of the Atlantic Ocean.

  Nice.

  “Dr. Reed, will you explain to this man that I need to get the patient’s insurance details? It’s standard procedure.” The administrator butted in again. God, they were tough, and the main reason why our non-profit hospital was treading water and still treating patients.

  I turned my attention to the hysterically weeping woman. “Do you have health insurance?”

  She shook her head and continued crying, her tears adding to the stream of blood coming from her nose and the cut on her cheek. I looked at the man standing beside her. How on earth had they met? Had he picked up a prostitute and let her have the brunt of his temper? I knew that a beautiful face could hide a monster just as well as any other.

  I looked him straight in the eye. “We are obliged to treat everyone who comes through our doors, but we do have the right to inquire as to whether the patient has health insurance so that we can send the bill to the correct place.”

  His expression didn’t change. “As I said, barbaric.” He slid his hand into his jacket pocket and for a second I tensed before he withdrew his wallet. “I’ll pay for anything that needs doing. Just get her sorted out as soon as possible.”

  Wow, guilty much? Did he hope that money would smooth over whatever shit he’d done? He had the look of a man who assumed he could buy his way out of anything. I nodded at Lopez.

  “Take her through.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Reed.”

  I gave the besuited one my best professional smile. “Would you like to fill out the paperwork while you wait for your wife?”

  He glared down at me. “She’s not my wife.”

  I shrugged. “Girlfriend, partner, significant other, or maybe you’re her pimp? Take your pick?”

  He went very still. “Do I look like a pimp?”

  I just stared at him.

  His gaze went chilly. “What a very vivid imagination you have, Doctor.”

  “You’re the one willing to pay to fix her up. It doesn’t sound like the action of an innocent man.”

  Now he just looked bored. “She’s an employee of mine. She turned up to work like this after an altercation in the car park.”

  What the hell was a car park?

  I didn’t bother to ask for clarification. I’d heard every excuse under the sun. Luckily for him, I’d lost my heart and my burning desire to right wrongs years ago.

  “So you say.”

  “Trust me, Dr. Reed, if I wanted to hurt a woman I’d take a lot more care than that.”

  “You like hurting women?”

  His smile burned through me. “Only when they ask nicely.”

  I was the first to look away. “Ms. Mobley will take care of you.”

  He finally walked away with the administrator. I took a moment to scan the rest of the occupants of the waiting room. It was Wednesday evening, and we weren’t that busy. There was nobody actively dying out there, so I made my way to cubicle five where one of the newbie students was busy assessing our latest patient.

  Between sobs she managed to state that her name was Rita and that her boyfriend Dave had met her in the parking lot outside her place of work and tried to extract her wage packet from her purse. She’d tried to fight him off, so he hit her.

  When she was all cleaned up, I crouched in front of her, checking my student’s assessment of her injuries and focusing on the state of her pupils.

  “Did you hit your head when you fell?”

  She grimaced. “I’m not sure. I do have a hell of a headache, though.”

  I glanced over at the student. “Make sure you do a scan before you release her, okay?” If the Brit was paying she might as well have the best. I turned back to the woman and lowered my voice. “I have information about battered women’s shelters and helplines if you want to leave this man.”

  “Why would I do that?” Her bruised lip trembled. “It’s not his fault, really. I make him mad. He always says sorry afterward.”

  I held her gaze. “If you ever change your mind, there are places that will help you, just remember that.”

  “Sure.”

  I smiled and stood up. “Then make yourself comfortable and we’ll get you out of here as soon as we can, okay?”

  The female student followed me out and down the hallway practically skipping to keep up.

  “Dr. Reed? Can’t we do anything? How can she think he loves her when he beats the crap out of her?”

  I heard the sense of outrage I’d lost and felt old, cynical and weary. I was so tired of having to toughen up the newbies. The older I got, the more delicate they seemed to be. “We’re not here to tell patients how to live their lives, just to patch them up and send them back out to live another day.”

  Indignation flashed in her dark brown eyes. “But—“

  I patted her shoulder. “We patch them up, Lee, okay?”

  She subsided, her shoulders drooping in her new starched scrubs. I wasn’t known for my sweetness so she probably hadn’t expected me to sympathize with her. I admired her for making the attempt, tho
ugh.

  “Yes. Dr. Reed. I’ll go and start the paperwork.”

  I turned back toward the admissions desk and noticed the tall Brit standing there looking in my direction. He raised an eyebrow and I found myself walking toward him. He really did have nice eyes in that coldly patrician face. I couldn’t look away.

  “How is Rita?”

  “She’s doing fine. We suspect a concussion. Depending on the results of the scan, we might have to keep her in overnight for observation.”

  He nodded abruptly. “Do whatever you need to.”

  “We will. Do you want to see her?”

  “I suppose I should.”

  I pointed at the desk. “Tell Lopez I said it’s okay. She’s in five.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Reed.” He took out his wallet again. I held up my hand.

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to tip me.”

  “I thought one had to tip for everything in America.” He handed me a square of card. “Perhaps you might call me.”

  “About when Rita is discharged?”

  “That would be appreciated. I’ll send someone to collect her.”

  “Hold up.” I scrawled my cell number on the back of a page torn out of my prescription pad and handed it to him. His ballsy attitude intrigued me. And I’d learned long ago that if I wanted something I had to grab it right away before the chance slipped through my fingers. “How about you call me?”

  He stared down at the piece of paper and then slowly raised his gaze to meet mine. “Didn’t we just cover this?”

  “This isn’t about Rita.”

  “Then what?”

  I shrugged. “It’s the twenty-first century. Women are allowed to give guys their phone numbers these days. Make of it what you will.”

  “Thank you.” He folded the paper up and put it in his wallet.

  I watched him walk away with Lopez, and belatedly considered the scrap of card he’d handed me.

  Alex Logan.

  I tucked it in my pocket and scuttled back toward the safety of the staff room. Five hours until the end of my shift. I might as well finish my sandwich before it got busy again. I closed my fingers around the hard edge of his business card. What the hell was I thinking? There was no way he was going to call me. I’d totally annoyed him. And he wasn’t even really my type. I’d just wanted to see if I could shake that calm composure just a little bit, wanted to make him really look at me, to see me.