by Abbott, Alex
Pulling my panties down, he kissed me ferociously. He kneaded my breasts until they ached with wanting. We stared at one another when he put himself inside me and then began moving in a rhythm that made me cry out, again and again. Until I wrapped my legs around his waist, determined to give him as much pleasure as he was giving me, and not to let him go until he’d spent himself in me.
I came twice before he did.
But when he finally reached his release, he actually roared with it. He held me so tight. Tight enough to nearly crush me. But I wasn’t afraid. Not of him. Not of the desires in myself. Not of anything.
Because we lay together entwined in one another’s arms, with no one else and nothing between us. Panting. Gasping with pleasure. Gasping for air. Then laughing. Laughing with the joy of a love that we fought for. For the future we were going to build.
And for a love I knew would last.
END
***
This story is the prequel to the serial romance, Borrowed by the Billionaire, which follows Lane’s quest for love in the aftermath of dark family tragedy…
You can continue reading the story of the billionaire Kenyon brothers here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MBKB2MC
LAUREL ADAMS writes about sex and power. The power of hot, dominant alpha men and the power sexy submissive women have to bring those same men to their knees. She writes hot stories that push boundaries and leave her readers tingling and titillated. Whether writing romance or darker erotic tales, she blends BDSM, risky and taboo topics with heartfelt emotions. Her stories are not for the faint of heart, but you're not faint of heart, are you?
For free stories and discounts sign up for Laurel's Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bbxOyT
You can find all of Laurel’s books at:
http://www.amazon.com/Laurel-Adams/e/B00MBQW8TM
***
Deviant (Calla & Jason)
By Rowena
THE BILLIONAIRE VOYEUR SERIES
BOOKS ONE & TWO
DEVIANT (Calla & Jason)
The Billionaire Voyeur Series
BOOK ONE
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
1: JASON
2: CALLA
3: JASON & CALLA
4: JASON
5: CALLA
6: JASON & CALLA
7: JASON & CALLA
8: CALLA & JASON
9: CALLA
10: JASON & CALLA
11: JASON
PROLOGUE
People feel safe with all of their clothes on.
That slim piece of cotton, silk, or polyester functions as a kind of barrier, one that supposedly keeps us from jumping each other’s bones out of sheer visual stimulation. How many of us can see a naked person and not think of sex, even if in the context of not wanting it with that person?
I like to see people stripped naked—and not just in a literal, physical way. I knew I was a voyeur from an early age—as many people are; I lived for glimpses of people having sex. As a teenaged boy, porn quickly wore out for me, and I had to see the acts live and in the flesh, so to speak. Now, I can get off no other way.
Luckily, my massive funds allow me to indulge in as many ways as I can think of—and believe me, I’ve thought of many.
I’m bored of watching willing participants, however; it’s time to orchestrate a different kind of show.
And so it begins.
Calla and Jason are both twenty-four, and neither of them could have known what hit them.
Once released from their ropes, blindfolds and gags, the two were relieved to see each other as the lights turned on and they figured out that they were in trouble together, since they know each other.
She’s a cute blonde with large dark eyes—at least a nine when dressed up, and that’s saying something, as I’ve had my share of tens.
He’s a good-looking, well-built lad with dark hair and green eyes.
They are friends, and have been for a while; in fact, his best friend is her boyfriend.
This will be such fun!
For all the bravado, people are slaves to chemical reactions, mere pawns of biological imperatives.
Let the games begin.
1
JASON
When I see the look on Calla’s face, I realize we are in this together.
I don’t know what hit me—all I know is that everything went black, and after slowly awakening to the sight of darkness in what felt like a moving vehicle, I struggled against my confines for a while before blacking out again.
The next time I woke up, my hands were free from their bonds, and I was able to see again instead of having constant blackness in front of my eyes like when I tried to before.
The odd voice that suddenly comes into the small, unfamiliar and dimly lit room with the weirdly smooth gray walls makes both Calla and me jump. It sounds distorted, and sends a chill up my spine.
“Hello, Jason and Calla,” it says. “You don’t know me, but I know you two rather well. The long and short of the matter is this: the sooner you make love to each other, the sooner you’ll be released. You may think you can possibly escape this space without doing so, but you will discover quickly how mistaken you are. There is only one way out of this chamber, and I have already given you the key.”
Calla looks so worried that I try to think of something comforting to say to her, but I come up blank.
“Is this some kind of joke?” she says, looking at me as if I could possibly have the answer.
“I hope so,” I say. “Can’t imagine who’d play it though.”
“I assure you that this is no joke,” the voice says. “And I am well aware of the…complications of the matter. You, Calla—such a sweet girl, with your pious background and sense of devotion, can’t possibly imagine giving in to my terms just yet, I’m sure. Sleeping with your boyfriend’s best friend! Oh, the impropriety.” Calla’s mouth falls open while the speaker chuckles. “But you, Jason—I know you have what it takes to get you two out of here.”
“I would rather starve to death than sleep with you—no offense,” Calla says to me, her eyes narrowing, and then looking away.
Offense taken. But I can’t say that, of course.
Still, who wouldn’t be offended? I’m not a bad-looking dude—certainly not so unattractive that someone would rather literally die if saving their life means us ending up in the horizontal tango. I mean, jeez—what’s that about, Calla?
She jumps when the voice comes again.
“You won’t starve—we’ll make sure of that. But make no mistake, you will stay here until my terms of release are fulfilled.”
I had already done so, but I look around the room again with new eyes.
It’s about a thousand square feet and has a shower in one corner—no shower curtains, no door, no way of hiding. Just a drain, and some soap on the embedded soap dish.
A well-made up bed is in the opposite corner.
I walk over to what looks like a closed-off area near the shower and discover a toilet. Opposite that is a basin with unopened toothbrush packages and toothpaste.
Near the bed is a pile of soft material, and when I examine it, I discover underwear—bathrobes, lingerie.
Next, I check out the bed. It looks so inviting—the bedspread and decorative pillows almost glisten from what is clearly more expensive linen than my own budget no-name brand. Plus, I’m kind of tired. I guess being kidnapped and knocked out with who-knows-what and driving for who-knows-how-long will do that to you.
“It’s just not happening,” Calla says, snapping me out of my thoughts.
When I look at her, I see that she is standing with her arms folded, shaking her head. “We’ll just have to wait this out. This can’t be real.”
“Oh, but it is, my dear Calla, you shall see,” the voice intrudes again.
“Let us out of here, you sick fuck!” she screams at the voice.
Haha! I have to stop myself from laughing out loud. There went this guy
’s whole proper church girl theory. Proper church girls don’t curse like that, do they? I know Calla, though—she’s a modest gal, but what a fiery streak she has. She doesn’t talk much, but piss her off and watch out.
The man behind the voice cackles at Calla’s outburst, and what can I say—goosebumps raise on my skin. Maybe the guy’s laugh was creepy anyway, but that distorted sound—whatever is being done to mask his real voice, I assume—made the laugh straight out of a nightmare.
Who knew what we were dealing with here?
Personally, I figure shouting and screaming at him won’t do much good, but whatever makes Calla feel better, I guess.
In the meantime, I’ll just have to think and figure out a way to get us out of this; there has to be some way outside of this weirdo’s terms.
“Oh, Calla,” the voice begins again, “I cannot wait to see the soft pink lips of your pussy open up to him.”
I can tell Calla is struck dumb by his words, as am I.
And I have to admit—what he said turned me on. The idea of the soft, pink anything on Calla…
I make sure not to look at her after that. Or the bed.
2
CALLA
What in the fucking hell!
My boyfriend will save us; he’ll find us—he has to!
I have no idea where Jason and I are, and no idea why someone’s playing this sick joke on us, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I sleep with Jason. No way.
Not like he’s some hideous hunchback or anything—I just don’t roll like that; I don’t give the goods up for just anyone just because.
My boyfriend, Scott, was my first and so far, my only, and I have every intention of keeping it that way.
I never even planned to sleep with him—or any guy for that matter—until I was married; for some reason, that’s the only thing from my upbringing that stuck. Well, sort of.
Anyway, Jason and I are just not…look, we’re friends. That’s it.
I know how valuable that is; I know how hard it is to keep real friends of the opposite sex once you grow up, and I don’t plan to fuck that up, pardon the pun.
There’s just way too much at stake here, way too much on the line.
Even in these circumstances, I don’t think Scott would take lightly to me sleeping with his best friend. I mean, how could I really explain that?
I mean, yeah, if this turns out to be real, he’d be a jerk not to be a little bit understanding, but there’s no way it wouldn’t affect what we have.
If the shoe were on the other foot, I’d be enraged; I’d never get over him fucking my best friend, even if it meant saving his life.
God, I must be a selfish cunt.
I look around the room and hope for a weakness somehow—there has to be another way out of here. Jason will find it. He’s so resourceful and strong that if any part needs to be busted through, he’ll do it—he’s got the muscles. Not that I ever caught myself staring at them or anything. I mean, seriously—you can’t miss them. Hellen Keller wouldn’t. He’s not like lunk-huge, or like Schwarzenegger or anything, but the boy is built.
He was always strong though. I remember one time—I think we were thirteen—part of the ladder broke to my treehouse, and he hoisted me right up there.
Anyway, like I said, if we have to, we’ll wait it out. We just got here, so no need for any rash decisions. How embarrassing would it be if it’s just some prank after all, after we go ahead and get right to it? What if it’s some elaborate setup by Scott to test my faithfulness before he marries me?
Not that he has proposed yet or anything, but he will—probably when he graduates. No need for the two of us to rush into anything when we’re not together together. I mean, obviously we’re completely committed to each other—he’s not even that far away—just one state over. We see each other every two weeks or so, so it’s not like a real long-distance relationship. Besides, absence makes the heart grow fonder I’ve been told.
Anyway, I love Scott, and I’m not gonna hump our mutual best friend just because some phantom says I have to. I mean, who does this guy think he is? And why would he do this? Especially when, as he said, he’s aware of the complications of the matter?
Wait, is that why he’s doing this? Just for kicks?
Jason is looking around right now and has started feeling out the weird-looking wall—I guess hoping to find some kind of secret passage, some kind of device where, if you touch it in a certain spot, an opening will appear and flip you to the other side of the wall or something.
I look at his outstretched arms. His biceps start to stir me again, so I quickly scan down to his forearms and settle on his hands. That’s a safe spot. His hands are somewhat large—definitely male, but clean. His nails have been kept low.
“What, do you go to some manicurist?” I say, forcing a chuckle.
He briefly looks back at me with slight confusion, then focuses on his hands.
“I do. I treat my hands and feet to whatever the Korean lady wants to talk me into—a massage, a clipping, whatever that fucking hand wax is. The pampering feels good, and my hands end up smoothed out and easier on whatever lady I need to handle.”
He turns and grins at me.
I feel jealousy and arousal at once. So stupid, right? Jason’s just my friend—I should be happy for him that he scores every now and then—although, looking at him right now, it’s gotta be more often than just every now and then.
“So do you get massages in…other places?” I say like a co-conspirator, and just as I start to wonder what his hands would feel like on me.
He doesn’t answer—he just smiles a little and turns his attention back to the wall.
Fine. So it’s not my business, I get it.
Why am I just standing here staring at him anyway? I should be looking around too.
I turn and start examining the area behind me.
Maybe I’ve seen too many mystery movies, but I’m convinced that, instead of a bookcase, since the room didn’t have one, maybe if I touch the bed or that little dresser a certain way, it would turn and flip me to the other side.
But did I want to be flipped? What could possibly be waiting for us outside of this room? Would it be a setup? Because why wouldn’t the owner of this voice know we could accidentally stumble on something like that? Would he kill us if we find it?
Still, I touch all the items in the room to see if there’d be any effect. Maybe the other side of the room would be worse, maybe not, but I had to try.
The dim room we are in isn’t terribly uncomfortable—the temperature is fine, although a little on the cooler side, and it is light enough that we can see each other and objects around us clearly. Plus, it doesn’t feel too small—heck, it’s definitely bigger than my apartment, I can tell you that. I’m living in about five hundred square feet, and this place is at least a thousand.
I decide to examine the clothing that has been left for us. They feel soft and amazing—the way I imagine that bed’s gonna feel, like all of these soft materials are from the best stuff. I’m guessing real silk and everything.
Obviously, this Voice Man has money and this is some sort of pleasure dungeon.
I press one of the pieces to my skin and almost purr. I wish I could afford to wear something that feels this nice.
I check out each piece clearly meant for me, and not only are they soft and comfortable and clean, they are quite sexy. Yeah, it’s obvious what this guy’s up to. This whole room is comfortable and built for lulling and messing with our heads.
I count the underwear, which, apparently, is the only clothing I’m supposed to wear while here: seven pieces, if I count the silk bathrobe.
Really? Is he going to resupply us somehow? Or does he really think we’re going to give in to his terms before a week is up?
I sneak a glance at Jason and catch him looking at me intensely, his green eyes fiery, before he turns away and goes back to his task.
What’s he thinking?
I k
now if it was up to him, we’d be out of here today.
Fat chance.
3
JASON & CALLA
JASON
My visual and tactile inspection of the place turn up nothing. This joint is like a prison—there’s no breaking out of it easily. I guess I could try to see where the vent leads, but other than that, things don’t look good.
I know the guy behind the disembodied voice is watching us, and can probably get ahead of any move I make.
For now, I give up. I can’t even tell how the hell we got in—there’s no sign of a door or anything.
Eventually I turn to Calla, who has been checking out the room, too.
“So obviously, this is awkward,” I begin. “Looks like we’ve come up blank, and I’m not sure what time it is, but whenever you’re ready for bed, feel free to take it—it’s yours; I’ll take the floor.”
Calla seems to let out a breath.
“Thank you,” she says, still not looking at me. She hasn’t looked at me for a while now, come to think of it.
“I wonder what Scott’s thinking,” I say, and that gets her attention for a second.
“Yeah,” she says. “I wonder what time it is, actually. How long were we out cold? How long have we been here? Either way, Scott will know something’s wrong soon. We never go more than eight hours without talking to each other. Then again, he has that study group…” Her voice trails off and something in her manner changes. Something else is going on in that pretty little head of hers, and I can guess what it is.
