by Anya Summers
The warmth of the entryway enveloped her. Her body shook, she couldn't feel most of her body, she was so cold. An impression of subtle wealth surrounded her. This wasn't the gaudy Hollywood flash of new money she witnessed all over LA, but an understated grandeur as her feet sank into the large rug carpeting shiny, marble-looking floors. Cream-colored walls were lit by silver scrolled wall sconces lining them every few feet. She wobbled, standing in the foyer, dripping wet as the snow melted onto a rug that looked to be a true Persian, not one of those knockoffs found at the local superstore.
Her trepidation mounted and Zoey called out, "Hello, is anyone here?" Her teeth chattered as she glanced around the room. Soaking in the magnificence of the home, she wondered whether she had ever visited a finer one.
"Och, and look at ye, melting all over the Tang rug I might add." The sound came from a deep, male voice which made her think of brandy and cigars as its owner descended the grand marble staircase. She shook her head, attempting to clear her mental freeze. It was a Tang and not a Persian? She never would have guessed that.
"How might I be of service?"
Zoey stared as the man descended, momentarily tongue-tied as a gorgeous male specimen approached. It was like she had died and gone to the Scottish Express with a man who had a likeness to what she imagined the old Highland raiders had looked like. His ginger hair was longer than was the usual fashion; curly, and shoulder length. It would make any other man appear feminine, but his hair style actually helped soften the hard angles of his face. He had startling jade eyes and a generous smile, framed by short, scruffy stubble a few shades darker than his hair. As he reached the bottom step, Zoey noticed how tall he was; the man had to be at least close to six and a half feet. His long legs ate up the remaining distance between them.
"Lass? Are you all right?" His voice rolled with a deep Scottish burr that made her toes curl. If only men in Los Angeles talked like this—she would never leave the city.
"N-n-n-no." She shivered, feeling woozy, her vision wavering. "My car is stuck in a ditch down the hill a ways, and my cell phone can't get a signal. I hoped you might have a phone I could use and a place where I could wait for a tow truck."
"Och, an American lass?" The surprise was thick in his voice. "I'm sorry, but you won't get old Robbie out in a storm such as this, I'm afraid."
Disappointment crashed through Zoey. The entire contents of her suitcase were likely lost. The dream vacation to escape hell ended as she discovered that hell did indeed freeze over from time to time. Her vision faltered again as the day's events caught up with her, and she swayed.
No, I have to push forward.
She lifted her hands up in an effort to catch herself on the way down. She fought valiantly, but her body no longer obeyed her command as she slid down.
A pair of strong arms saved her from hitting the ground and she stared into concerned jade eyes. "I've got you, lass."
*****
Declan hit 'send' in a reply email. The freak storm was going to keep a lot of people away from the club this weekend. Many of the club-goers who had stayed the previous night were hunkering down in private rooms on the dungeon level to wait out the weather. He didn't mind the fact that attendance was down. It was always the same couples anyway, always the same women—most of whom he'd rather face a pit of vipers than get into bed with—not that he hadn't dallied with them. And lately he had been finding it all rather boring. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed the club, or a woman, other than for the perfunctory release that they offered.
"Declan? Pick up, man." His butler and longtime friend Jared's voice sounded over the intercom near his desk phone.
Declan was annoyed at the interruption; he had a conference call with London in less than an hour which he wasn't prepared for, what with all the last minute cancellations. Pressing the intercom button, he said, "What? I told you I had to finish up."
"I have an unconscious woman on my hands and your response is work," Jared's voice blasted him.
"Bloody hell, man. Where are you?" Declan stood, sliding his leather desk chair back. Only Jared would have a woman unconscious after his lusty attentions. He mentally went through the possibilities of whom Jared might have fucked unconscious. In his world, it happened when a sub went into what they termed 'sub-space'.
"At the front door. Just get here quickly. Bloody woman is soaking the floor." Jared disconnected the intercom with an oath that, under normal circumstances, would have made Declan grin. But why the hell was Jared bringing club business up to the front door instead of down on the lower level where it belonged? That was what Declan wanted to know. He left his office and took the elevator down to the main floor.
In the few minutes it took Declan to arrive, Jared had procured some towels and was kneeling next to her, wrapping a tiny frame within them. Why the hell did he need so many blankets, had he killed a woman in the throes of ecstasy? Declan wondered. He could barely see any limb or skin to indicate it was in fact a woman on the ground. He did, however, notice a rather large puddle by the front door, soaking his Tang dynasty rug.
"What the hell happened? I told you not to try out any of your tricks on the unschooled." Declan couldn't keep the fury out of his voice. This was unacceptable. Jared knew better. As one of the founding members of the club, Jared was the one who normally doled out punishment if a member acted incorrectly, not Declan, even though he owned the damn place.
"I already took her coat off her, but she's soaked through." Jared talked over him, not affected in the least by his tone. "And do you really think I would take advantage of a woman appearing on our doorstep in a storm like this? What kind of a prick do you think I am? For your information, I have done nothing but offer the lass my aid. Is it my fault she passed out minutes after she boldly walked into the house?"
"Where did she come from? And she just walked in, you didn't let her in?" All Declan could discern through Jared's rather odd swaddling job was long, midnight hair.
"I'm not really sure, and yes, she was a might eager, coming in before I arrived at the door. From what I could make of her story, it seems the lass wrecked her car on the road and couldn't get a signal on her phone to call for help. She's out cold, but her body is still shivering. I don't know how long she was out in that storm but she might be suffering from hypothermia."
"Christ," Declan replied, thinking of the conference call that he was going to be late for now. "Give her to me. I'll take her to my room, she needs to be out of those wet things and warm. Take care of this mess and bring some tea to my room," he ordered, scooping up the shivering, swaddled woman into his arms. She was quite a handful with the mound of towels covering her form. He vaulted up the stairs almost two at a time with his bundle.
He nudged his bedroom door open, strode past his bed, and deposited her quivering form on a padded leather chair in the corner. He stripped out of his clothes efficiently and then unwrapped the blankets. As the layers were removed, he uncovered a stunning woman as he peeled the wet clothing from her body. She was lithe and supple in all the right places. High pert breasts—the creamy skin would overflow in his hands—wide curvy hips, all contrasted with her tiny form. He didn't miss her pointy pink nipples, or the fact that her sex was denuded of hair. Scooping her up again, Declan deposited her into his bed. He slid in next to her, and settled himself with his back against the headboard before pulling her into his arms. He yanked the covers up around them and used his body heat to warm her body as it convulsed. He pulled her close until he was almost spooning her petite body in his upright position, sharing his body heat with her.
"What is going on?" Her voice sputtered as his hands rested beside her generous breasts.
"You're suffering from possible mild hypothermia. I'm sharing body heat with you until you are sufficiently warm and out of any danger. Relax, lass, no harm will come to you."
She made no move away from him as her body trembles decreased and the chill left her slight form. She really wa
s a pleasant armful. He held her as her shivers ceased. Her body was all warm curves, and he felt himself respond at the feel of her lush ass pressed so near his cock; so much so that his dick twitched. The heavy globes of her breasts were smooshed against his arms, and she fit snugly against him. His little damsel in distress was tempting, to say the least.
She shifted from where he had her nuzzled against his chest and peered over her shoulder at him. Her cheeks flushed pink as she studied him, making him wonder what was happening in that brain of hers as she assessed the situation. Her face reminded him of the old Hollywood beauties, with big, mesmerizing hazel eyes that stared at him with an innocent desire filling their depths. She seemed surprised by her response to him, her pupils dilating. His Dom nature, the natural protective instinct roared to the forefront, needing to shield the unschooled miss, even from himself if need be. The little lass needed gentle care and possibly a doctor, not his lust, which she had awakened unknowingly with her trusting stare.
But, Christ, when was the last time he had held a woman who didn't even realize that she was feeling arousal? Declan knew women. He knew how to make them scream and beg for release. He knew how to dominate, and discover exactly what made a certain woman go over the edge of passion. He enjoyed pushing them past their boundaries and many thanked him afterwards, trying to claim a permanent spot as his sub. Yet he wasn't sure he'd ever had a woman—in his social circle or the club, most of whom were skilled enough courtesans—look like she wanted to take a bite out of him, her gaze trained on his mouth.
Her lips looked dewy soft, tempting him. He wondered how sweet she would taste. Never let it be said that he wasn't a gentleman, but her unrestrained heat, combined with innocence, was stirring him in ways he had not experienced for some time. An obliging man, when she licked her plump lips in invitation, he couldn't help but accommodate, sating his sudden urgent need to taste her.
He captured her lips, a gentle pressing, his tongue seeking entry as it traced her delectable mouth. At her startled gasp he plunged inside, opening her lips further with his tongue until their breath mingled. And then he seized possession of her mouth, which tasted of rich, sweet honey. Wanting more, his hands grasped her head as he took the kiss deeper. Taking long, deep gulps, he drank her surprised groans, feeling the pebbled hardness of her nipples pressed against his arms.
At the knock on his door, her body went from the most open and responsive woman of his acquaintance to stiffer than a fine Scots whiskey. He wanted more, wanted to explore the bounty her supple body had to offer. One taste had only whet his appetite, but now was not the time. Her rigid form would reject any advance he made.
"Come in," he called out.
Jared opened the door, carrying a tray. "Here it is. Mrs. Stewart fixed some tea that should go a long way toward warming the lass up."
Declan had an affinity for women, knew when to proceed and when to back off, and this little lass had gone from zero to hands-off in under a heartbeat. He refused to allow her to retreat. She still needed the heat his body could provide, regardless that he could feel the shame and confusion stiffening her body as she attempted to withdraw.
He tightened his embrace, placing his hand on the slight swell of her stomach, and she froze. "Lass, until we can be certain that you are not suffering hypothermia and your body is sufficiently warm, I won't be letting you go, so you may as well make yourself comfortable."
"Just set it on the nightstand," he ordered Jared, who complied with a nod as he assessed the situation and left the room. Declan was certain she'd feel more comfortable with only one stranger present.
"Who are you? And where am I?" she panted, wrapping her arms around herself. He sensed the panic rising in her and wanted to calm her fears. Declan had never tasted one so innocent before, and a distinct desire to protect her emerged inside him.
"You're all right, lass. You are in my home. I'm Declan McDougal. My butler, who you met at the front door, told me you had an accident on Mullardoch road, down the hill."
"And we are naked in your bed because?" she asked, seeming to assess the situation and his home for the first time with wide-eyed wonder.
"Because I thought it was the fastest way to keep hypothermia from setting in. You were out cold and shivering, frozen nigh to the bone. I took care of you when you so obviously couldn't care for yourself. Skin to skin contact was the best way without a doctor present."
She blushed a most becoming shade of pink as she found the gumption to ask her next question. "I see. And kissing me, that was a way of warming me up, as well?"
He cupped her chin and waited until her hazel eyes met his. "When a beautiful lass invites me with desire in her eyes to kiss her, I oblige her."
He wasn't sorry he had kissed her. In fact, he wanted more, but now was not the time. He raised an eyebrow, studying her as the blush deepened. Would she flush this way with his cock buried in her pussy?
"Oh," she said, her eyes darting around, some distress creeping back into her sultry goddess eyes. He'd no more harm her than he'd harm a child. She had nothing to fear from him or his house. Declan just had to convince her of that. He wondered what she would make of his Dungeon Fantasy Club.
"And you, lass? I haven't had the pleasure of your name."
"Right, sorry. I'm Zoey Mills. It's nice to, ah, meet you." She smiled shyly as the little wanton he'd met five minutes ago retreated behind a more reserved façade. He wondered which was the more natural persona. He'd place money that it was the latter.
"Since the introductions are out of the way, let's get you into some dry clothes. Both of us." He could actually move now that his erection had subsided a bit. It wasn't gone entirely, but he'd have to wait to relieve himself until the little miss was out of sight.
Worrying her lower lip, Zoey murmured, "I don't have any clothes with me. I did, but I couldn't get my suitcase out of the rental car."
"Not to worry, I'm sure I can find something appropriate for you. We will get it fixed." He shifted her off his lap, extricating himself from the bed and her beguiling little body.
He heard Zoey's gasp and glanced over his shoulder, her eyes wide as saucers and fixated on his body. He stifled a grin and wondered what was going on in that gorgeous head of hers. It pleased him that she found his appearance to her liking. It would also make her more comfortable, as he intended to seduce his little damsel.
"Thank you." She hiked the blankets up to her chin as her gaze darted around the room, avoiding eye-contact with him. As if avoiding him would erase the fact that he had seen her charms, felt her dips and curves cradled against his flesh. Declan grinned. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this interested in a lass.
It wasn't that he didn't have sex. He did. More than his fair share. He had started the Dungeon Fantasy Club just so he could satiate his lust and more exotic tastes. But he couldn't remember the last time he had truly wanted a woman other than for mere physical release.
He wondered if she had the strength and fortitude to enter his world and thrive.
Chapter Two
"Holy Toledo!" Zoey whispered to herself, sinking back against the headboard as Declan went into what she assumed was a bathroom. She heard him moving around, probably looking for something she could wear. She had kissed a stranger. In her entire existence, she had never once kissed a man she wasn't at least familiar with. What must he think of her? First she appeared on his doorstep, covered in snow, and entered his home without an invitation. Then she passed out in the arms of one man only to wake up in another's. She'd attached her lips to his before her brain had even had a chance to counter her actions.
And, to be honest, she had wanted a whole lot more than just kissing. They'd been naked together. He'd stripped her while she was unable to do so, warmed her with his big, strong body, and she knew it was the only surefire way of staving off the chill in her veins. He had likely saved her life. Was it any wonder that she when she awoke, feeling all the hard contours and rippling male muscles pla
stered to her backside, his warmth seeping into her bones, she had kissed him without question? He was a complete stranger who had taken care of her, and there was something about his actions that she trusted. Not many people would go to the extreme he had done to care for another.
When Zoey first surfaced from her delirium, she found herself staring into his eyes, so startling an electric blue, with a kindness swimming in their depths, that she'd felt herself melt into him. It had taken two seconds for her to realize he wasn't the beautiful man who had rescued her at the door but another unknown, even more sinfully handsome man than the first, who had gazed at her like she was a tasty morsel he desired. Not that she hadn't been shocked, and without a stitch of clothing on, for she had been. When her eyes fluttered open, she had expected it to be the ginger-haired man, Jared, to be holding her when she surfaced from her delirium.
The blatant arousal that emerged, the stark hunger at feeling Declan's thick erection harden and lengthen beneath her rear with no clothes hindering them, had made her long-denied hormones break out the streamers and kazoos. He was a man's man, powerfully built, his body surrounding her in the lake of a bed. She had done what any red-blooded woman who found herself being cradled by a large, devilishly handsome man with a sinfully wicked mouth surrounded by a dark, close cropped beard, would have done. She had wondered how he would taste, and how his beard would feel against her skin. Her brain still not firing on all cylinders, she had latched her lips onto his, needing to satiate the sudden instant tidal wave of desire.
Zoey felt like she had tumbled into a fantasy with two of the most gorgeous men she'd ever met. She pinched herself, just to be sure she was awake, because if she was dreaming, she'd invite Declan back into bed with her. Her normal 'not until the fifth date' rule would be tossed out the window in a split second. She couldn't wait to tell Lucy and Ophelia that Scotland should actually stand for: stud muffin capital of the world.
