Goldie and Her bears

by Doris O'Connor

  Goldie and her Bears

  Doris O’Connor

  Breathless Press

  Calgary, Alberta

  www.breathlesspress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

  persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Goldie and her Bears

  Copyright© 2012 Doris O’Connor

  ISBN: 978-1-77101-076-4

  Cover Artist: Victoria Miller

  Editor: Mason Lavin

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations

  embodied in reviews.

  Breathless Press

  www.breathlesspress.com

  Dedication

  With thanks to Cherie for finding the visual inspiration, Suzanne for the brain storming and encouragement, and Jo for cracking the whip and demanding ‘details’.

  Thank you to Mason, for helping me make this story shine.

  And huge thanks to my gorgeous hubby, for keeping me fed and watered when the bears wouldn’t let me stop writing.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Based on the fairytale:

  Goldie Locks and the Three Bears

  If you come down to the club tonight, you’re sure to get a surprise…

  Heat flooded Goldie’s cheeks, and she hastily turned the offending teddy bear facedown on her desk. Her embarrassed glances round the office showed no one who could have left the huge teddy. And surely someone would have noticed. Another furtive look around confirmed nobody was paying any attention to her. That was just the way she liked it. She may work for Sexations, the market leader in the manufacture of sex toys, but knowing the ins and outs of every sex toy they sold did not mean she liked to draw attention to herself.

  Reassured that not one of her colleagues was paying attention to her, she huddled down into her chair to read that note again. Handwritten on expensive notepaper, the bold strokes belonged to a confident hand that looked worryingly familiar, but it couldn’t be him—Jason Stanhope—the new American CEO and star in every one of her vibrator-assisted fantasies since he had taken over the company a month earlier.

  She might have soaked her panties at the mere whisper of his gravelly, to-die-for voice, with its charming southern accent that reminded her of Rhett Butler. But he hadn’t as much as looked at her twice, apart from the first time they’d met, and she had fallen head over clit in instant lust. Goldie swallowed the moan threatening to escape. The day they had met, she had been early, wanting to make a good impression on the new CEO. She had strolled into his office unannounced to place the files she knew he’d want and had walked in on him shrugging into a new shirt. Their eyes had locked for one millisecond before she’d hastily dropped her gaze to the floor. By then her wayward libido had taken its fill, her gaze roaming over the broad shoulders, the impressive pectorals, and the little line of hair trailing down his ridged abdomen into the waistband of his tailored slacks. To complete her fantasy, he was even wearing cowboy boots, damn him. No CEO had any right to look like that. Her nipples had thrust themselves shamelessly against her blouse, and her thong had been soaked in an instant when he took a step toward her.

  “Can I help you with something, ma’am?” He had simply looked at her, completely unconcerned at having been caught half-naked.

  Her cheeks had burned. She’d clutched the files to herself like a shield, grateful beyond belief that they masked one of her body’s telltale signs of arousal, even if she grinned at him like a fool and had developed the breathy voice of a porn star.

  “I—I’m sorry to disturb you. I didn’t think you were in. I just wanted to drop the end of year reports off and—um…” Her pitiable excuse for a voice box had ceased to function altogether as he regarded her steadily, one eyebrow raised. His amber eyes made a slow exploration of her body, starting at her sensible pumps, over the shape of her calves, and skimmed her hips encased in the usual knee-length pencil skirt. His nostrils had flared as though he could smell her wetness, and Goldie had stopped breathing. He’d cleared his throat, and by the time those amazing eyes of his had reached her face, having rested far too long on the files hiding her bullet point nipples, she’d felt faint from the lack of oxygen. He’d flashed a quick smile in her direction, his white teeth a direct contrast to the tawny beard covering his lower face and, if she hadn’t known it was impossible, she would have sworn his eyes had turned golden.

  He’d turned his back on her, buttoning up his shirt, and gestured to the huge desk dominating the room. “Just leave them on there, Miss…?”

  “Just call me Goldie. Everyone does.”

  He’d laughed then, murmuring to himself, as he turned back around. “I’m sure they do. Run along, Goldilocks.”

  She’d hightailed it out of there as fast as she could, feeling the heat of his gaze on her ass as though he’d delivered one of the spankings she liked to read about in romance novels.

  Goldie sighed and turned her attention back to that note. Her breathing sped up, and she squirmed in her office chair. Holy shit!

  She knew the club could only mean one place. Set in an acre of woodland a good hour’s drive from London, it was an invitation-only BDSM club, one of Sexation’s best customers—naturally. Goldie wasn’t the only member of staff desperate to find out what went on in that place. Management had automatic access and as the CEO—

  Goldie turned the note over. Her expensive public school education seemed to have fled her completely. The only response to what she read on the other side of that note was a refrain of Fuckety, fuck, fuck bouncing around in her fevered brain.

  Not turning up is not an option. Wear something sexy: your stockings, and no underwear. I’ll be waiting, Goldilocks.

  J.

  ***

  That night, Goldie was all set to take her own car, but someone knocked on the door. A tired-looking taxi driver stood in the flat’s stairwell with instructions from J. to drive her to the club. When she protested, the taxi driver handed her another note.

  Don’t argue. Get in his taxi, woman. I’m paying him triple the usual fare, but only if he delivers you safely to the club. His wife just had triplets—he needs the money—so stop thinking and get in. And leave your cell at home. You won’t need it!

  J.

  She straightened her shoulders now and huffed out a string of swearwords. Who the fuck did the man think he was? And why the hell was her body so turned on by this blatant caveman act?

  As the taxi sped away, she was alone in the middle of nowhere, without her phone, and the two-story building in front of her loomed large. It looked like any other factory building, non-descript and out of place in the middle of the forest. She could hear the faint sounds of heavy dance music and, despite the remote location, the car park was full of expensive cars—a number of them with foreign plates. A shiver travelled down her spine. What was she doing? She had told no one she was coming here, too afraid to be judged. What if the club turned out to be some sort of human sex slave ring? These things happened. She read the papers.

  Before she could muse on her stupidity any further, the steel door to the club swung open, and a bear of a man stood, framed by the light spilling out into the darkness.

  Crap!

  At least six feet seven of packed, heavily tattooed muscle advanced toward her, and before she could even draw another breath, he grabbed her arm and propelled her through the door and into the utilitarian hallway. He let go of her and she blinked in the bright lights, all too aware that the
mountain of a man behind her blocked her escape route. And he was so warm. Goodness, she had a human radiator at her back.

  Her eyes widened when the door opposite opened and an impossibly tall brunette walked through. Dressed in a leather pantsuit that left nothing to the imagination, she nodded to the man behind her, and he stepped away and closed the door—Goldie’s means to leave—with an ominous thud. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that leaving was indeed out of the question. He leaned on the door, arms crossed, immovable, his steady gaze never once wavered from her face. Goldie was grateful for that at least. Dressed in nothing but a little black dress she’d hadn’t dare wear before now, she shifted restlessly in the killer heels—another never-worn, impulsive purchase. The dress clung to every curve and ended just below her bum. She’d felt deliciously wicked when she’d stared at her image in the shop’s mirror. She was less sure of herself now, and her gaze automatically fell to the floor, settling on the woman’s pointy-toed, thigh-high stiletto boots.

  “Hmm, who have we here? You must be Goldilocks.” The woman’s velvety American drawl washed over her, and Goldie held her breath. She hadn’t missed the lethal-looking whip in the woman’s hands, and she knew enough to know that she was looking at a Domme. Arguing with her would not be the best choice right now. Inwardly, however she was seething.

  Goldilocks, my ass.

  “Remove your shoes, Goldilocks!”

  Goldie looked up, startled by the imperious command. But seeing the raised eyebrow and shake of the woman’s head, she hastily dropped her gaze to the floor again. The woman laughed softly.

  “He always picks the rebellious ones. You adopt a fine pose, sub, but your heart isn’t in this. What shall we do with her, Jacob?” she asked the man at the door.

  “Plenty of things I’d like to do, but I reckon Master J will want to teach her himself.”

  The coolly delivered words, spoken in a familiar Southern drawl caused a flutter of nerves somewhere in her lower abdomen. God, this was crazy; she wasn’t getting turned on by this, no fucking way. Lusting after her boss was one thing, but getting wetter by the minute while standing under fluorescent lighting, caged in between two strangers, was another thing entirely. Even if there was something strangely familiar about them. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know that Jacob had moved from the door. His heat burned into her back. She jumped when he settled his large hand on her ass and squeezed. His fingers dipped between her legs and Goldie wanted to die of embarrassment right there. She was wet, and he would notice. Sure enough, a deep rumble erupted from the man behind her.

  “Nice, she’s followed orders. Shame she’s not wearing a butt plug though.” He growled the words into her shoulder, and a shiver ran down her spine. She tried in vain to pull away. His strong arm around her waist held her against his wall of muscle, and his solid heat seeped into her very bones. “Did I give you permission to move, sub?”

  “I’m not a—ow!” The sharp slap to her bare ass stung and she swallowed her moan of excitement. That felt way too good.

  A second, harder slap followed, followed by two more. Her bum was on fire, and a strange tingling sensation spread from her cheeks to her pussy. Heaven help her if she didn’t get wetter. Jacob chuckled into her shoulder, the vibrations increasing her awareness of him, of her whole body, and the bizarre situation she was in. What the hell was happening to her? She moaned when he massaged her stinging cheeks, and she knew she was crimson when his fingers parted her folds and re-emerged covered in her juices.

  “My, look what we have here, Catalina.”

  Catalina laughed; a lighthearted tinkle at odds with her apparel. Goldie squeezed her eyes shut. She was having some sort of wine-induced hallucination. Any minute now she would wake up, in her own bed, nursing the hangover from hell. The whip handle under her chin forced her head back up.

  “Open your eyes, sub, and look at me.” Goldie shook her head. The pressure on her chin increased, and Catalina’s voice grew icy. “I said, ‘open your eyes, sub.’ Don’t make me ask you again, or I will have you bound spread-eagle for all to see. We need someone to practice our whips on.”

  Heat suffused Goldie at the thought. Oh.My.God. She couldn’t mean that.

  “Cat, take it easy.” Jacob’s warning rumbled through her. He dropped a kiss on her neck, just below her ear, and whispered for her ears only. “Don’t goad her. Several subs have pissed her off today. You don’t want her taking it out on you.”

  An animalistic growl burst from Catalina, and Goldie opened her eyes, her heart going into overdrive. Instinctively, she pressed back into Jacob, seeking his protection. The solid imprint of his cock against her ass caused her poor heart to speed up even more. His hold on her tightened, and that rock-hard bulge grew bigger still. Oh hell, talk about jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

  “Don’t tell me what to do, Jacob. She is insolent and needs punishment.” Cat lowered her whip and Goldie released the breath she’d been holding.

  “Not your type of punishment, Cat.”

  Goldie swallowed nervously at the look Catalina ran over her body, and she gasped when the other woman stepped so close her breasts brushed Goldie’s shoulder. She cupped her chin with one hand, and the other pulled up the hem of her dress and circled her clit. Instead of being appalled, Goldie’s traitorous body responded with a renewed burst of moisture, and she bit her tongue to stop herself from moaning.

  Catalina’s triumphant smile did little to soothe her nerves. Catalina pulled her fingers from Goldie’s pussy and licked each digit slowly.

  “Hmm, very sweet indeed. I do like my porridge sweet. What do you say, Master J?”

  Goldie’s heart fell to her stomach at the sight of the tall, imposing man stepping up from behind Catalina. His golden eyes zeroed in on Catalina’s fingers before they settled on Goldie, and she once again forgot to breathe.

  “Leave Goldilocks to me. You haven’t even given her a fucking safe word. There is only one porridge she’ll taste, and it isn’t yours.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jason Stanhope, every inch the imposing Dom, glowered at Catalina. In her spiked heels, she was his same height, and she defiantly stared him down. The rapid staccato beat of her left toe on the stone floor was the only outward indication of her annoyance.

  “I vet the new subs that you send here. What makes this one so special that I shouldn’t?”

  The heated look Jason threw in Goldie’s direction made her toes curl. His eyes changed from golden back to their usual deep brown, and he seemed to grow several inches in front of her. How was that possible? If she’d drunk anything since getting here, Goldie would have thought it had been spiked.

  Jacob pulled her backward and out of the way with a muffled curse as Catalina too grew taller, and her already long fingernails formed claws.

  Oh good God, girl, that’s it. You’ve lost it completely. Too many late-night horror movies. What next, they sprout fur and bay at the moon?

  They did neither—of course—what had she been thinking? It must have just been a trick of the eye. Catalina and Jason had moved directly under the light, throwing the stark angles of their faces into full view, and the truth hit her square in the gut. They had to be brother and sister. The same eyes, nose, chin, and hair color. Catalina’s lips were thinner than Jason’s, especially now, drawn into a tight line. Her tawny eyes blazed as she slowly uncurled her whip.

  Jacob swore again and tucked Goldie out of the way. His nostrils flared, and the grip he had on her arm grew painful. He flicked his long brown hair off his face, and Goldie had to remind herself to shut her mouth. If it wasn’t for his clean-shaven face with just a hint of a five o’clock shadow, he could have passed for Jason. He was bulkier than her boss, and his unkempt appearance had thrown her off at first, but there was no mistaking the uncanny similarity now. He released her with a growl. “Stay there. Don’t move,” he whispered and intervened.

  “Cut it out, you two. Now is not the time
or the place. You can settle your differences when you run, not in front of our newest sub.”

  Three pairs of identical, heavy-lidded, chocolate eyes settled on Goldie, and she backed away nervously until she bumped against the steel door. Its coolness served to confirm that she was indeed here and not in her cozy bed, having the most erotic CEO dream ever.

  “She’s not our sub, Jacob. She’s mine!” Jason ground the words out through gritted teeth.

  Jacob whistled under his breath, and Catalina narrowed her eyes. Jason, however, advanced toward Goldie with the lazy, long-limbed gait she’d admired in the office. Unlike at the office though, all his attention was focused on her. Goldie’s body reacted with embarrassing predictability. Her nipples puckered against the thin satin of her dress, and she clamped her thighs together to stop the renewed rush of moisture from trickling down her leg. He stopped so close to her that their thighs touched. She dropped her gaze to escape the intensity of his and settled it on the intricate tattoo on his left shoulder. She hadn’t gotten a close look at it in the office but now she could see it was two bears entwined. The image would have been extremely erotic had it been two humans.

  Her body lit up under Jason’s intense scrutiny, and when he leaned down and inhaled deeply, she closed her eyes again. For some reason, that really turned her on.

  “Thank you for following my instructions so exactly. I hope you had a pleasant journey here.”

  His deep baritone washed over her senses, and she nodded. His smile of approval showed through the light kisses he dropped on her cheek, and she turned her head, desperate to taste his full lips. He withdrew, and she bit back her disappointed moan.

  “Not so fast, Goldilocks.”

  “Wha—what? And that’s not my name.” She tried to inject some authority into her voice, she really did, but Miss Pornstar seemed to have reemerged, so she gave up and simply looked at him. The business suits he’d worn to the office ever since that first day hinted at the powerful physique underneath. Seeing him this close dressed in jeans and a black vest and those damn cowboy boots, not to mention having all his attention focused on her—well, she may just go into cardiac arrest. It was every secret fantasy she’d ever harbored times three. The man of her dreams, plus his equally wet dream-inducing brother, and their stunningly beautiful sister. Her gaze darted involuntarily to Catalina, and their eyes locked. Jacob chuckled. Jason took a step away from Goldie and looked over his shoulder with a sigh.