by Cerys du Lys
My body shook with every thrust as if they were blows. Every thrust was painful and deep, but somehow it ramped up my excitement even more. His hands groped my tits and I yanked the hair on his head. I was like a live wire under him, humming with electricity and ready to explode.
My back arched into his chest as I felt my pussy clench around him. Every plunge brought me closer and closer, heightening the pleasure, the sensitivity of my flesh, everything. Spike’s hips slammed into me as his mouth covered mine, silencing my moans. Then I felt him filling me up inside, his lips kissing and biting my neck at the same time. His cock jumped inside me and his thrusts slowed down as he filled me with himself.
Spike gave me a brief, satisfied smile as he let my legs slide from his shoulders. He lay next to me, curling an arm around my back to pull me into his chest. He kissed the top of my head, his chest still heaving. Still riding my orgasm, I nuzzled into his neck and kiss him.
“Do you think it’ll always be like this?” I asked him.
He smirked. “God, I hope so. Why? You plan on sticking around for a while?”
I playfully punched his side.
“Spike,” I admonished. “I’ve told you so many times. I love you.”
“I know, babe. There’s no way I’m letting you go.”
He rolled over slightly to give me another kiss, one that’s so soft and tender it made me want to go again. He loves me, I thought, still getting used to that phrase.
“I saw a pool table when we walked in, I think.”
Without looking at his face, I could hear the grin in his voice.
“You want to?”
“Yeah.”
He sighed in an admiring, weary way. “You’re going to get us blacklisted from every bar.”
I giggled, thinking of the man who threatened to withhold my winnings at the bar the night before when I won a game, fair and square. He called me a bitch, and then Spike took him outside and beat his ass, even forcing him to apologize “to the lovely lady.”
“You love it.”
He gave me a shrug as he smiled, acknowledging that. “Yeah, maybe. Or maybe I just love the girl and I’d do anything for her.”
I smiled in the dark. That was good enough for me.
# # #
Check out these other great reads from Vanessa Waltz:
Break (Billionaire New Adult Romance)
What if a handsome man offered you thousands to pretend to be his girlfriend? And what if you started to believe the lie?
Jessica has never had a boyfriend, and that’s just how she likes it. She’s still trying to rebuild herself from a sexually abusive past, and a guy - no matter how gorgeous - would only mess up the fragile balance of her life.
Almost-billionaire Luke Pardini is gorgeous, that’s for sure. He’s also desperate. His dying father thinks he’s too irresponsible to inherit the family estate, and Luke needs to convince his dad that he’s grown up and ready to settle down with a girl. Any girl.
With five billion dollars at stake, Luke can’t mess this up. But as he pretends to date Jessica, he finds himself drawn to her more than he’d like to admit. Jessica has been hurt too many times to count, but Luke is the one person who makes her feel safe. It could have been a Cinderella story, but both of them made a promise that their relationship was just for show, and neither of them is going to step over the line.
When Jessica’s secret past emerges on the front page of the tabloids, his dad threatens to disown him if he doesn’t sever ties with her. If their relationship was only a charade, the solution would be easy. But if it’s not…
Crash (Billionaire New Adult Romance)
Will Pardini is a temptation Natalie does NOT need right now.
Months after calling off her engagement, Natalie is trying to rebuild her failing career and impress her eternally disappointed parents. She has too much on her plate already, but the offer Will gives her - to travel the world working as a graphic designer for his luxury hotels - is much too tempting to refuse.
Reformed bad boy billionaire Will Pardini has had his fill of ditzy golddiggers. Natalie is everything he’d ever hoped for but never dreamed could be real. Around her, he’s just a normal guy.
Around her, he doesn’t feel like such a monster.
Will has been hiding a dark secret... one that shows up just when he thought he would be able to move on with his life. One that threatens to tear apart the fragile connection he’s been building with Natalie and turn his world upside down.
Is it right to let someone love you more than you deserve to be loved?
About the Author
Vanessa Waltz loves to write dark, New Adult romances. She lives in the Bay Area with two crazy cats. To be the first to know about her new releases, please join her newsletter (no spam, ever).
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No Limits
BDSM Erotic Romance
Copyright © 2014, Adriana Hunter
All Rights Reserved.
Published by Tangled Press
http://www.AdrianaHunter.com
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This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations and places are solely the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, including events, areas, locations and situations is entirely coincidental.
The cold shelves of the library were tomb-like and sheltering. Alone in the book-lined corridor, Anna Pierce let her soft brown eyes touch gently over the book titles. Chamber of Sex Slaves, one well-thumbed title read. The Fallen Dominatrix said another. She skimmed over that one. There was something she didn’t like about the concept of the woman being in charge. Leather-clad, raven-haired temptresses just didn’t do it for her.
The small, select area of the library with the ‘blue books’, as Anna shyly called them in her head was not catering well enough to her tastes. There were too many vanilla titles involving star-crossed lovers, gorgeous pilots or doctors, always ending in stale, fruitless sex where the man climaxed quickly and the woman was barely mentioned at all.
Sounds like my life, Anna thought as she stuffed a novel back onto the shelf. Typically handsome, sounds like a dream, hung like a racehorse, but fucks like a schoolboy. Over in ten minutes flat. Her mind swam with the vision of her latest conquest – the tall, enigmatic Chase had been a typical gentleman. Flowers, chocolates, and the most uninteresting sex Anna had ever had the poor fortune to come across. The memory of his clammy hands gripping her torso as he rocked back and forth inside her made Anna wince. She did not class herself as an active partner, but was it too much to ask to be pampered?
The lights ahead of her dimmed. The library was closing for the night. Anna tousled up her shoulder-length auburn hair and stood a little higher in her stilettos. She enjoyed the sideways glances she always got as she left the erotica section, even without her usual armful of books. Stopping for a moment to adjust the hem of her pencil skirt, something glinted in the fading lights, catching her eye. She reached out and took out a book with a plain black cover, wrapped artistically in metallic, silver chain designs. The title was printed in minute writing along the slender spine: The Hidden World of BDSM. There was no time to flip open the pages, but the words of the title sent a tingle of excitement through Anna’s body. Hurrying for the exit, she checked the book out and fled into the night towards her city home.
As always, when she arrived home, Anna avoided the mirror. She had perfected the art of stripping off her coat, discarding her bag and shoes and dancing into the kitchen without catching a glimpse of herself in the glass in the hall. The living room was dark, and she clicked on a sing
le light to read by and poured herself a glass of wine. Food could come later. All the way home the book had burned against her breasts, where she had cuddled it against the rain. Under her coat, it had seemed to exude a strange heat that made her inpatient to discover the tome’s secrets. Curling her feet beneath her, Anna carefully peeled open the first page of the shining, chain-bound book.
Welcome to the world of Bondage, Discipline, Submission and Masochism.
BDSM is our calling, and our title covers all manner of such joys. You may be beginning your own journey towards the fulfilling climax of your own desires, or you may be an established practitioner of Dominance or Submission. Either way, we welcome you.
For those embarking on what is sure to be a life-changing experience, be mindful of your own wants and needs, even if those needs are to hand over your body to the control and possession of another. Trust your instincts, and let desire drive you.
Anna carefully laid the book down on the coffee table. Her hands were shaking a little. She scanned the page again, re-reading the line ‘hand over your body… to the control and possession of another’ and felt a warming sensation thread its way from her diaphragm to her pussy. She involuntarily flexed her pelvic floor, feeling the pull and tiny pleasure from the contracting muscles. Closing her eyes, she imagined what it would be like to have someone touching her with expert fingers that knew exactly what she needed…what she most secretly desired.
As though invisible hands traced over her, Anna felt cool shivers of arousal trace over her skin. She reached for the book again. She had to find out more.
Submissive
A submissive partner, or sub, submits fully and willingly to their dominant partner. He or she may undertake service slavitude, sexual slavitude, or may experience no physical contact at all. At all times, the Submissive partner is aware of their own safety as well as their own pleasure.
Anna closed the book gently and fondly ran her thumbs over the cover. Her nail varnish was chipped. In the low light of the reading lamp, the embossed silver of the chains threaded about the book cover sparkled with a mysterious glow. Anna touched the illustration lightly and felt it slightly colder than the soft black of the cover. Her mind threw into sharp vision the idea of cold chains touching her about the wrist and ankles. She bit her lip.
One step at a time, she told herself, replacing the book on the glass-topped table. Finishing the wine, she retraced her own steps through the hall, and upstairs, and without satisfying the gnaw of hunger that knotted itself in her stomach, she went to bed.
* * *
It was three days before Anna let herself pick up the chain-bound book again. It had lain, like a dark Pandora’s box on the table, catching Anna’s eye whenever she marched determinedly past it. The book had become the mirror’s companion – there, but mostly ignored, until needed. And needed it was the night of the phone call.
Anna had just applied a bright green facemask to her dry skin and was considering opening a packet of chocolate when the trills sounded into the gloom of the hallway. She had never invested in the Caller-ID service so many people raved about, and seconds after pressing that green button she regretted being such a cheapskate.
“Anna, baby, are you busy?” Jenson’s confident voice blasted out of the receiver. Anna pressed her forehead against the mirror, leaving a greenish smear behind.
“Incredibly,” she managed to croak out.
“Don’t make me laugh,” Jenson snapped back. Anna could almost see him reclining on that awful suede sofa, remote control in hand. “You come home from work, eat raisin chocolate that gives you spots and watch trash on T.V,” the sound of a dry laugh hurt Anna’s ear. “You’re not busy.”
“I…” Anna looked frantically around the small hallway, searching for a lie. “I’m just going out,” she settled on. “I’m meeting someone.”
“Bullshit.”
“Honestly, I’m just on the way out. I’ll talk to you later,” she spat out and slammed the received back onto its stand, barely believing she had had the nerve to do that. She wondered if it had been those words in the book that had been echoing in her mind for days…
‘the Submissive partner is aware of their own safety as well as their own pleasure…’ Well, she was aware now, and being a booty call was not enough anymore. Feeling a sudden rush of desire to read more of the book, she picked up the slim volume and turned it over in her hands. A flash of white stopped her and she squinted hard at the base of the back cover. A minuscule website address could just about be made out.
With the success of ditching Jenson still fresh, she booted up her laptop and typed in the address, her skin electric with her own daring.
The website was, if anything, disappointing. It had a vanilla, plain white background, with images of married couples holding up furry handcuffs and giggling. Anna snorted. This couldn’t possibly be the right website. On the sidebar, she selected a few links, clicking until she found an area advertising meet-ups. She keyed in her location and waited, gnawing on her lower lip as the search loaded. A single result popped up.
Oh, god, she thought, gripping the desk. What if it’s a fetish club? I can’t jump in like this! She considered closing the window, downing the rest of her hot chocolate and heading to bed, but the high of denying Jenson forced her to click on the tab, which opened to read:
“The Tea-Party Club is looking for new members. Non-dungeon meeting place, beginners and pros welcome for brunch at our non-contact networking club. Meetings held every Thursday night at the White Queen Tearooms.”
Tea? That seemed almost too harmless. Well, tea and a casual meeting she could do. After all, what could possibly happen in a tearoom?
* * *
Anna had agonized for hours over what to wear to the White Queen. Everything she tried on seemed either too suggestive or too sexy. The ad had not indicated any particular dress code, and she had no idea if anything would be expected of her. Finally, she settled on wearing her usual pencil skirt and black chiffon blouse. If one stared hard enough, you could just make out the lace edging her bra. She combed out her auburn hair and twisted it into a topknot before painting her face with more intricacy than she had for years.
There was nothing to be done about her nose or dull eyes, so she simply avoided the hall mirror again and hailed a cab for the White Queen Tearooms.
The exterior of the café hid amongst the bright lights of Soho. The green painted door was peeling flecks of paint, though the glow from the interior looked inviting and there was a large model Queen chess piece on the windowsill. The slender, nervous woman steeled herself and pushed open the door. A fleck of paint stuck to her palm for a moment before fluttering to the ground.
Inside, a log burner was humming in a corner and the scent of tea and cake filled Anna’s nostrils. The tearoom was empty aside from a party of around ten seated around a very large, circular table. A red-haired woman smiled cheerfully and waved her over.
“Here for the brunch, sweetheart?”
Anna nodded mutely.
“Have a seat and order a drink, dear. There’s no pressure to speak or even stay, just be aware we prefer potentials to think before they speak,” she smiled with thickly painted lips and two of the men, both blond with expensive looking suits, allowed their eyes to flick over Anna’s face before turning away. Anna colored slightly as she chose an empty seat next to a blue-eyed, greying man in a matching grey suit.
“Mike,” he said, extending a hand.
“Anna,” she said in return, chancing a smile. Mike’s eyes smiled back, though his mouth did not move.
“First time?”
“Yes, how did you-”
“Your dress,” he finally let go of her hand.
“My – “
“You spent hours, perhaps days agonizing over it. Your confidence is rock bottom and you have no idea what you are getting into,” he said darkly, flicking imaginary dirt from his cuffs. Anna felt her already flushed cheeks turn scarlet.
&
nbsp; “You… you don’t know anything about me!”
“And you know nothing about this lifestyle. Because,” and he leaned forward, his blue eyes staring straight into her soul. “Make no mistake. It is a lifestyle. Whatever you are to everyone else; P.A, teacher, CEO… that all stops the moment you leave the office, and you become your true self,” he finished, reclining back on the wooden chair.
“And you… practice it, this lifestyle thing?” she asked, despite herself.
“Of course,” he answered. “You’ve come looking for a bit of handcuff and plastic whip play, but you won’t find that here.”
“What will I find?”
“Me, of course,” and he dropped a business card onto Anna’s saucer. “Nine o’clock tomorrow. And wear anything other than that sickening blouse.”
Without a backwards glance, Mike rose from the table and exited the tearoom. Though the group continued chatting, Anna was sure that jealous and curious eyes were burning into the back of her head, as her hand closed tightly around the card.
* * *
Mike Stone, CEO at Checkerboard Industries
The business card was thick and expensive, but single-sided and unimpressive to glance at. It was only after searching online for ‘Checkerboard Industries’ that Anna Pierce began to realize what sort of a man Mike really was. He was not the CEO of a bedroom-run scheme; he was in charge of a major Fortune 500 company with a billion-dollar turnover. It was not what Anna had expected from the greying man in the suit, but it was not surprising either. Perhaps this ‘lifestyle’ talk was something he paid for, too.
