Rapid Pulse: A Limited Edition Spicy Romance Collection

by Gina Kincade

  While that was obvious, I wondered if it implied something else, too. I wasn’t even legally divorced yet so I couldn’t get married tomorrow even if I wanted to. But looking at the hard edge to David’s mouth, I knew that wasn’t the point, was it?

  We walked up a little way and then sat down on the steps of the stadium facing the jousting area that through the summer ran exhibitions.

  A cold ache began to creep into my chest.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” I asked, knowing that for some weird reason his attitude had changed. Had he expected me to say no? Was he disappointed I didn’t say yes straight away?

  He looked at me with a wry twist to his mouth. “Common sense would ask, why we’d do this. I could go all over the world, sleep with whoever I wanted, have no ties, no responsibilities, and here I am, doing it again.”

  Woah, cowboy. Hang on.

  David’s past relationships had never been conventional, quite the opposite. His ex-wife had allowed him to have sex with whoever he wanted. She could be the biggest bitch in the world, but then she’d set up a threesome for them, a thing no other woman would do, and say she loved him.

  It was bullshit, of course. Sex for her wasn’t personal, so she was giving him something she didn’t even care about.

  But I wasn’t his ex-wife and I didn’t want that sort of relationship. Was he really going to mourn the loss of such a thing?

  Logic dictated that he would probably fear the caging of a monogamous relationship forever. But I’d thought we’d gotten past that.

  I gave him everything he needed, and he’d knocked back everyone he’d met since we got together. Why worry about it now?

  “Would you like this back? It’s not too late. No one knows yet.” I offered him the piece of paper and watched his eyes widen.

  Why was David doing this back flip after such an incredible night? He’d put so much effort into showing me how much he loved me, treasured me, adored me.

  Why was he was trying to take it all back now? If I was right, then he was regretting his choice in asking me to marry him.

  I’d never get him to the altar if he was getting cold feet already. The offer was barely on the table.

  I got to my feet, lifted my dress and straddled him. David and I did our best talking when we were touching, and I wasn’t going to let him talk himself out of this. He’d spent weeks planning it, and he’d done the asking.

  So, what the fuck was going on?

  “You do know that you were the one that proposed, right?”

  He nodded, gripping my waist and holding me tight.

  “Yeah, of course. I’m just joking.”

  Oh, my flippant man was back, huh? The one who made a joke at the most important and serious moments of his life?

  He’d told someone at his first wedding that his wife should last twenty years because she had a nice ass. The worse thing about that, was that it proved correct.

  “If you want to take it back, you can. But you put a lot of effort into this proposal, only to chicken out after you asked the question.”

  David’s face lifted a little as he struggled with my logic.

  “I’m not chickening out just because my male brain is different to yours. It’s classic male behavior. We wait until we’ve thrown ourselves into the middle of a fight, before we work out if we can win or not.”

  I took a breath and tried to fight the panic down. I was the one that had thought this was happening too fast and had initially worried if we were doing the right thing.

  But now that he wanted to take it away and was worried about our future, it was me that was panicking. I didn’t want him to take it back.

  I wanted him to be my husband.

  I wanted to be his wife.

  I focused on him, pushing the fear to the back of my mind. This was an extremely logical man, who’d literally told her on their fourth date that he wanted to marry her after she’d kissed him. Why was he doing this now?

  “I think we need to go back to our room.”

  We stood up and began walking back to the bedroom wing of the castle. I held his hand, but couldn’t stop the sadness I knew was showing on my face. What a brilliant way to ruin the most perfect proposal known to man.

  We walked over the small rise and he stopped me.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  I stopped and stared at him. “You’re kidding right? You spent all that money, time, and effort to give me the most amazing birthday and proposal ever, then you go and wreck it with all that crap about losing your freedom.”

  David made ‘lay off’ sorts of snorting noises and I turned away. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against him. “I’ve tried to deny it, but you know I fell in love with you at first sight.”

  I nodded, tears welling in my eyes and I blinked them away.

  “You looked like you’d been clobbered over the head with a saucepan.”

  And he had, quite literally. I’d never forget the look of awe and wonder he’d given me within moments of shaking my hand. If he’d been a cartoon character, stars would have been circling around his head.

  He chuckled in my ear and I slowly turned around to face him once again.

  All those months ago he’d stared at me for the very first time and I’d known I was in trouble. And as the weeks had progressed and I found out what sort of heart, mind, and body this man had, I’d fallen head over heels, too.

  “Why did you ask me to marry you?”

  He looked at her solemnly. “Because I never want to lose you.”

  I feel the same way.

  I smiled and kissed him, some of the warmth returning between us. That wasn’t enough of a reason to get married, but it was a start.

  “I’ve been worried, you know that. All the women I dated while still living with my ex were all single. I didn’t go near a woman with kids.”

  I laughed and elbowed him. “Yeah, I love how the fact that you have two teenagers isn’t a problem, but me having one under five is!”

  He smiled smugly and shrugged. “My kids are almost grown.”

  “Hmmm.” I continued walking. He had full custody of his kids and he adored them. They weren’t going anywhere for a long time.

  He opened our door for me. “You know what really confirmed it for me? How much I want you in my life? It was Tommy’s funeral.”

  I stepped into our bedroom and turned to look at him, confused by his logic.

  “What about it?”

  We’d gone to David’s old football coach’s funeral the week before and had a lovely time catching up with old friends of his.

  “What about it?”

  “It was the kids, mostly. The ones that spoke about him. His daughters, the grandkids. Why would I be worried about starting again? When that’s what life is all about.”

  Now that made sense. David had practically raised his brothers and sisters after his parent’s bitter divorce, then had two kids himself. He was the most paternal man I’d ever known.

  “So you’re not worried about my daughter?”

  He grimaced a little. “I’m dreading the teenage years, but you know I love her.”

  I let that one slide. There was only one way to prove that my daughter wouldn’t be like his daughter’s horror teenage years, and that would be time.

  “So you don’t want to take your proposal back?”

  He shook his head and pulled me against him.

  “Never. I finally have the chance to have the marriage and the family that I’ve always wanted. A home full of love, affection, and laughter. You’re everything I’ve dreamed about since I was sixteen years old.”

  Now, that was a perfect answer.

  I kissed him and ran my hand across his brow, enjoying the love I felt flowing between us again.

  “So, what was with that before?”

  He shrugged and ran his hands over my body.

  “I wasn’t really talking to you. I was defending my choice to all the people I know that are goin
g to think I’m crazy. But all those things are in my past. The threesomes my ex organized to convince me that she supposedly loved me, the one night stands with women that were like a glass of water while walking in the desert.” He shuddered at the memory. “But it was all crap. How could those shallow relationships compare to the depth of feeling I get from loving you? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin anything.”

  I twirled my hands up behind his head and ran my nails through his hair. A montage of all our troubles passed through my head. All the conversations, so many tears. The scars I’d come across, the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of the women who were meant to love him. His mother had starved him of food and love, his first wife had withheld affection and appreciation. He’d survived a life time of abuse, and finally, I could fix all that they had done.

  Thank God, he found me...

  “My warrior who walked through the desert for twenty years, huh?”

  He nodded and let a soft groan escape through his lips as he stared down at me. I would never get sick of the look in his eyes that told me without words how much he loved me.

  “Yeah, and now I’m in my oasis, I’m never going back.”

  THE END

  About the author:

  International Bestselling Author Tamsin Baker loves everything erotic. Her books can be long, short and everything in between, but they’ll all be fast paced with snappy dialogue and lots of sex. No Tamsin Baker book is the same except there won’t be a lot of angst in as she wants her books to be everything that a fictional world can be- full of happy ever afters, dirty words and sweet love. ‘Love is love’ and she tries to show that in a range of sub genre’s, from m/m contemporary to paranormal ménage. She has a need to shock people and bring up embarrassing topics at the most inappropriate times.

  Where to Find More of Tamsin Baker

  Website: www.tamsinbakererotic.com

  Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/tamsinbakererotic/

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  Recently published titles:

  The Borough Boys series- Grayson’s Mate, Aaron’s Mate and Brad’s Mate. All M/M paranormal erotic romances.

  https://www.tamsinbakererotic.com/m-m-books

  Dragon Master- M/F fantasy erotic romance

  https://www.tamsinbakererotic.com/my-latest-release

  The Red Queen

  by Abyrne Mostyn

  DISCLOSURE:

  Story contains same sex pairing references, BDSM, D/s, and sex club scenes.

  Copyright: Abyrne Mostyn, 2015.

  Cover: Funky Book Designs, 2017

  Dedication

  For Mags, her pink feather boa, tiara, and a nerf brick for good measure. Rest in Peace sweet angel.

  Life is like a game of chess, there are pawns and there is royalty. At the end of the game, the last one standing is the Queen. She runs the show. Even the King, though royalty, is her pawn. It’s the price of being the Queen. Or is it?

  Introduced in Swingers, we never got more than the Red Queen’s calling card. Margaret is a dominatrix, the master of all that happens around her at all times, but that wasn’t always true. How did she get here?

  Her chambers are a playground for things that aren’t talked about in proper, polite circles, but perhaps in hushed whispers. Men and women alike flock to her for her dominion and the exquisite, disparate, ecstasy-torture she delivers as they ride the edge. A BDSM master, she is in demand by those who live the lifestyle, though few know who she is behind her guise. An hourglass in red leather, she never reveals her identity.

  Will the walls she has erected keep her from finding her King?

  ‘Old Mack Donald had a farm...’

  Margaret Joy Donald was. They called her beautiful. They said she was a perfect child. They also said she could do anything...They were wrong. She was just another girl from the farm, somebody’s daughter and not much more. One day that would change.

  For years her parents would try to get her interested in things, and for everything they tried, there was one more thing that didn’t interest her. The year they entered her in the Corn Princess Pageant with a talent of social dance it might have been a good idea to check her second left foot at the door. They didn’t, and she fell flat on her face. The community chorale looked forward to adding her ‘amazing’ alto tones to their choir until they actually heard her sing. There were some voices that even the acoustics in the bathroom couldn’t make sound good, hers was one of them.

  The entire school marching band cringed when they heard she was being put up to try out for baton, as if she was ever going to squeeze into the little swimsuit and tights, never mind be able to throw the thing and do something coordinated. Her parents, for all their attempts and all her shortfalls however got one thing absolutely right. They loved her no matter what, and with that, even if it was horrendous, she could, and would, try anything.

  Her father was the guy who wanted a son so badly that she became the stand in for the son he didn’t have. Mostly, it was the best relationship they could have had. When she was little she didn’t know that all the other little girls going to the matinee didn’t want to see Zorro and John Wayne. She had no concept that she was missing anything until they got home and her mother laid into him for not taking her to something more appropriate for a young lady. Time would remedy this, but at the time she didn’t understand the big fuss.

  It became a household joke that started differently but ended the same. Her mother would start out with a litany of what she should be doing, and she would end the discussion doing the Duke saying, ‘Buck up there l’il pilgrim, wuh-huh’. Sometimes however, when she needed to get a point across, her mother would start it by declaring the subject was off limits to John and his ‘pili-grims’. It was hard to take her serious with everyone laughing after that, but they did their best and somehow they all managed to stay sane in the process.

  Maggie was almost eleven before her parents finally had a son and she got to start being a daughter. Not that she minded, she wouldn’t trade her misspent youth by her father’s side for anything. It was a strange time though to transition to ‘girl’ and those were tense times around the Donald house.

  Jacob was born early on a Saturday morning, coming robustly into the world. On the farm they did what needed doing, and after birthing more than his fair share of cattle, her father thought birthing a baby was a simple thing. Hours of screaming later, Maggie had been grateful to hear the baby wail and not her mother. Her father handed him to Maggie to hold and asked her to sit with her mother while he went for Doc Pritchart. Once everyone checked out as doing fine, her father took Jacob and left her to tend her mother. Seems all the blood and girl parts did him in and he needed some ‘boy’ time. Maggie remembered it like it was yesterday any time she thought of them.

  Nearly from the first, wherever her father went, there was Jacob. Everything that needed doing on the farm, Jacob knew or had seen before he could walk or talk. Pride was apparent in her father’s eyes and within what seemed a few short minutes, Jacob had taken her spot at Saturday matinee’s too, leaving her to spend the afternoon learning to be a lady at her mother’s side. What a waste that would turn out to be she thought ruefully at the time. She would never tell her mother as much.

  She had no intention of staying in farming. She had no desire to be a ‘lady’. She was going to leave the dust road town and Iowa far far behind her and find the world where the lights shone brighter than the stars at night, where for a fee you could have anything you wanted. Maggie Donald would leave her mark somewhere on the world, far from the stench of fertilizer and livestock. That was the plan and she figured she’d be ready for that adventure by about fifteen.

  Funny thing about plans, reality seldom cares what you plan as it has its own notion of what will be and when. Usually, it wins. E-I-E-I-OOOOO.

  ‘Blaze of glory...’

  It was three weeks to Hal
loween. Maggie had planned everything down to the hour and knew that it was just over a month until she was gone...gone from Ottumwa, gone from the farm, and gone from this notion of her polite place in society. She was ready to forge ahead and create her future. She’d mapped out the vagaries but left the details flexible for the world to fill in.

  It was a late autumn afternoon and Jacob was out in the fields with her father culling the last harvest. Sitting on her father’s lap, like she had done a decade ago, he and their father likely wore identical grins of joy. On any given day, at any given moment, they looked like larger and mini versions of the same person. They could often be found walking about in matched denim overalls, covered in something Maggie didn’t like to think about too often, a long wheat stalk hanging from grinning lips, eyes alight at some something they had done that day. They were content with their lives, period.

  That image of them as Mack and mini-Mack became the one she would cling to because that day it all changed. Riding the old tractor, pulling the combine through the fields, what happened that day would remain essentially unknown. All she knew was that from her perch on the pillow mountain atop her bed with a book, she saw the blaze out the window before she understood what was happening. She could scarcely believe her eyes and couldn’t find reason, or her voice, to scream when she noticed it.

  Falling off the bed at a run, she wasn’t down the stairs before she heard the screen door slam and her mother’s shrieking voice calling for her father, ‘Mack’ and her brother ‘Jacob’. Catching up to her was not difficult. Making sense of the scene ahead however was beyond them both. Neighbors too had seen the flash and blaze and come running. None were fast enough to help either her father or her brother that day. To think back on that day, anytime she allowed the memory to creep up, all she felt was numb.