by Amanda Boone
Antony pulled his head back to look in her eyes. “Are you crying?” she asked, astounded. He had never cried in front of her before.
He smiled through his tears. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you,” he told her. “It was like something in me was being stabbed and cut out...”
His breath caught in his throat, and Raine wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a deep, passionate kiss. Her body had come alive as soon as she heard the front door slam, knowing it was him and preparing for his touch, his kiss, his cock inside her.
“Where is he?” Antony demanded with a glint of something dangerous in his eye.
Raine pointed up. “Asleep in the guest room. ’He’s strung out.”
“He’s going to be more than strung out when I pull his fucking spine out through his mouth.”
A jolt of arousal shot through Raine as the knowledge hit her that he was this concerned and angry because she had been in danger.
“Leave him be for now,” she said, turning in Antony’s arms, so she could rub her ass against the hardness she could feel in his pants. “I’ve got something to show you upstairs.” Raine looked back to see Antony had a salacious look on his face, and his pupils were massive with arousal and desire.
“Really?” he asked, his voice deep with lust.
“Really,” she told him in her own deep voice, squealing when he slapped her butt cheek through her tight jeans.
***
Sunlight filtered through the huge picture windows, which offered views across New Haven Bay. Raine opened her eyes and stretched like a sleepy kitten. The other side of the bed was empty but still warm, telling her Antony had not long been gone.
She rolled from the bed and padded across to the cavernous en-suite they shared and sneaked in to the bathroom to avoid alerting him.
As she tiptoed across to where his figure was, bathed in a cloud of steam, she paused admiring the view. She ran her gaze from his tense calves up his thighs to his tight buttocks, pausing as she remembered the feel of those strong cheeks tensing as he pumped himself in and out of her. From there she looked up to his thin waist and sinewy back, the muscles twitching there as he soaped himself down. Unable to resist touching him any longer, Raine reached out and put her palms on the triangle shaped muscles at the base of his back and gripped his sides with her hands.
Antony jumped and rose on his tiptoes, twisting and shrieking as Raine ran her cold hands all over him.
“Shit! Raine, that’s cold!” he said as she laughed at him trying to twist away from her. Abruptly, he grabbed her forearms and dragged her under the flow of hot water, the fingers of heat trailing down her back making her shiver. Antony pressed himself against her, feeling the swell of her belly and breasts against his skin.
“What are you up to, woman?” he asked, gyrating against her and grinning. He ran his soapy hands down her back and squeezed her ample buttocks, her flesh hot and slippery in his grip.
“Saying good morning,” she replied.
“This is a new way of saying hello,” he told her. “I have to say I quite like it.” Antony leaned down and thrust his tongue in her mouth, laying claim to her. “What is it you are doing today?” He asked as he slid his fingers into her pussy from behind.
Raine moaned as she felt him penetrate her and pushed her ass backwards to let him get his fingers deeper.
“H-helping...Janine a-a-and Sheryl-Ann...to...to move in...next door.”
Antony moved round, so he stood to the side of her and slipped his other hand down her belly, rubbing gently across the tip of her clit. In a matter of a minute, he felt her hot muscles clench around his fingers, and she moaned through her orgasm.
“Oh, yeah. Now I remember,” he said.
THE END
The SEAL’s Command
Bound to the Alpha Billionaire
Book 1
(Can be read as a standalone book)
By: Lucy Wynand
The SEAL’s Command
Chapter One
Beneath a sapphire sky laced with sun-gilded clouds, James Gard dove into an enormous salt water pool, his long body streaking to the bottom before he surfaced and began his morning laps. A warm breeze spurred him along, coloring the air with the smell of the ocean and the honeysuckle spilling over the property fence.
The scent always made Gard imagine a golden woman with flowers in her hair, tied naked to a bed bathed in sunlight.
He ignored the surge of lust as he continued his swim. Eight years serving in the Navy as a member of an elite SEAL recovery team had honed his natural athletic abilities until he could have easily qualified for the U.S. Olympic swim team. The squalor and desperation he had seen in too many war-torn and impoverished countries, however, had pushed him down a different path. He’d begun an initiative to build clean, safe energy and water plants in developing nations. As global demand for his industrial plants grew, he partnered with other industries and governments, until his business had grown to be one of the most powerful in the world.
The other work he did was just as important, but no one knew James Gard had built an independent intelligence consulting network to rival the CIA, which had added greatly to his influence and wealth.
Ungodly wealth certainly had its perks, too. The vacation resort home he’d leased on Grand Cayman provided luxurious accommodations, plenty of sun, a pristine private beach and a kitchen stocked with gourmet food. With one phone call he could have practically anything else he desired delivered to his door: a case of designer champagne, a clone of his favorite Ferrari to drive around the island, or a lovely lady willing to warm his bed. But while he enjoyed women, very few had the ability or inclination to satisfy all of his needs.
Gard wanted a sweet, shy lady who wanted to be seduced. One who craved to be tied up, teased, gently tormented and then taken. A lady who would obey his demands to please him; who needed what he wanted to do to her. A lover who needed domination as much as he needed her submission.
A golden woman, tied to his sunlit bed.
She would serve as the perfect lover for Gard, but despite his best efforts, he had yet to find her. The women who flocked to him were more interested in his money and their needs. While some were willing to go along with his desires, none of them really understood how to truly surrender themselves to him.
One day, I’ll find her, Gard thought as he pushed off the wall of the pool and began another lap. Or she’ll come to me.
A fair-haired man in a gray suit appeared at the edge of the pool, and made a languid gesture with the cane he used to beckon Gard over to him.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Simon Denning said in his bored British accent as he watched Gard hoist himself out of the pool. “You SEAL chaps are never happy unless you’re sodding wet, are you? Half-fish, the lot of you.”
“Beats sweating.” Gard shrugged into a robe and walked over to the bar, pouring two glasses of indecently expensive single-malt before offering one to Simon. “Did you wrangle me an invite to Zempa’s party?”
“Indeed, I wrangled.” Simon took a card from his jacket and handed it to Gard. “This will get you on the ferry for the party. It leaves at sunset, so don’t dawdle, James.”
Gard glanced over the infinity edge of the pool at Blue Pearl Island, which lay a half-mile south of his resort on Grand Cayman. “Any insight on what I can expect?”
“A little. Rumor has it that Dutch Zempa is the Martha Stewart of BDSM sex parties.” The British agent’s voice chilled. “We believe he throws these soirees to lure wealthy targets, whom he provides with willing, helpless or drugged lovelies to molest as they like. He then uses their bad behavior to blackmail them into working for the cartel.”
Gard grunted. “Why haven’t you and MI-6 shut him down?”
“There’s no evidence, naturally, and none of his suspected victims will give him up. The place is a fortress, with state of the art security, and a small army of ex-mercs guarding it. Zempa has also bribed t
oo many officials here for us to move on him.” Simon set a flash drive on the bar. “Floor plans, patrol routines, and the combination to the safe in the second-floor library.”
Gard’s brows rose. “You remotely cracked his safe?”
“He has large windows, and we have very good long-range spy drones.” A pained smile tightened the Brit’s mouth. “We’ve not been able to get on film anything else going on in that den of iniquity, so do your best to avoid detection.”
Gard wasn’t worried about his cover. The arms dealer wouldn’t suspect him, as his official reason for coming to Grand Cayman was to purchase property for a desalinization plant, which he intended to do. “What would get me thrown out?”
“Zempa won’t be fooled by a sham performance.” Simon finished his drink. “You’ll have to actually take part in the, ah, festivities.”
“I don’t have to fake it.” Gard’s mouth hitched. “But you already knew that I’m a sexual dominant, or you wouldn’t have asked me to go in.”
“Much as I dislike poking about in another chap’s private life, your penchant for tying up your ladies is rather awfully convenient for us.” He slid on his sunglasses and smiled. “Do enjoy yourself thoroughly tonight, old boy. It may be the only way we can stop this bastard from arming every terrorist cell on the bloody planet.”
* * *
Lily tried to focus on the novel she was reading, but her gaze kept straying to the clock on the wall. In a few hours the guests would begin arriving for Dutch Zempa’s party, and the mansion would be filled with wealthy and important visitors eager to indulge themselves. She would welcome them, and laugh at their jokes, and listen to Zempa as he told them to do whatever they pleased to the dozens of beautiful young women and men waiting to satisfy their desires.
Some would ask for her, of course, but Zempa always turned down those requests.
“Our lovely Lily is my companion tonight,” he would say, and touch her shoulder with a possessive hand. “And I’m afraid I never share.”
Lily would smile her agreement, and pretend not to feel her skin crawl. One of the few blessings of her predicament was that Zempa rarely touched her and never used her for sex, which he preferred to have with the handsome young men he had drugged and chained to his bed.
The door to her room opened abruptly, and Johnson, one of Zempa’s thugs, trudged in. Lily immediately set her book aside and slid off the bed, backing away until her shoulders collided with a window frame.
“The boss wants you dressed and downstairs in an hour, Frenchie.” The burly guard tossed a garment bag on the end of Lily’s bed. “He said to wear this.”
Lily watched Johnson unzip the bag and remove the dress inside. The sight of the demure white lace made her heart clench. She’d known this day would come, of course; Zempa wouldn’t hold her in reserve forever. “Who does he want me to entertain?”
“Some rich, clueless American.” The guard advanced on her, and reached out to finger a long, silky strand of her pale blonde hair.
Johnson’s hot breath smelled of garlic and onions, but Lily knew better than to turn her head away.
When she didn’t react he dropped his thick fingers onto her breast, and gave it a painful squeeze. “If the boss doesn’t let this one do you, maybe I’ll arrange something for you. You need a real man between your legs, Frenchie.”
Lily looked up into his piggish eyes. “Do you know one?”
Johnson drew back his hand as if to clout her, thought better of it, and backed away. “Someday, bitch.” He stalked out and slammed the door.
Lily turned, resting her brow against the sun-warmed glass of the window as she tried to stop shaking. Through the wrought iron bars she could see the cerulean blue waters hemming the glittering white sands beyond the mansion. There was more than an ocean that lay between her and her freedom, and Zempa knew it. Even if she could escape the island, she had nowhere to go, and no one to care where she went.
Lily used to think she was all alone in the world, but now she actually was.
Next month it would be a year since she had been brought to Blue Pearl Island. In the beginning Zempa had treated her like a guest, but once his scheme to use her had failed, that had changed. Lily remembered the first BDSM party he had forced her to attend, and how she had felt watching the other girls at the mansion cater to his wealthy guests. She’d run back to lock herself in her room, throw up, and cry herself to sleep.
The next morning a guard had taken her down to Zempa, who over a sumptuous breakfast had explained how it would be for her.
“You are too exquisite to waste on just anyone, my dear. So for now you will simply act as my hostess.” Thin, silver-haired and deeply tanned, Zempa had large, dark eyes that held a reptilian gleam. “In return, when the time comes that I ask you to personally entertain someone, you will do so with delight and enthusiasm.”
Lily stared at the food growing cold on the china plate in front of her. “What happens if I refuse?”
“You’ll no longer have any value to me.” The importer took a bite of his omelet. “My guards would enjoy using you, but I doubt you’d survive them longer than a night or two.” He lifted a silver pot. “Coffee?”
Since that morning Lily had acted as Zempa’s hostess for every party he held. She knew he filmed most of his guests, and later used the videos to blackmail some of them. Sometimes he drugged others and kept them prisoner until he got whatever ransom he wanted.
Before every party Zempa briefed the guards as to who would be allowed to leave, and who would be held hostage. He didn’t bother to hide any of it from Lily. She never had the chance to warn anyone, as Zempa always kept her at his side for the entire evening.
Submissives wore white at the parties, so the dress meant that tonight she would have to surrender herself to a stranger. A stranger who could do anything he liked to her, while she pretended to enjoy it.
And she would have to, Lily realized as she stared at the white lace dress. She’d be entertaining his rich American guest. If she could speak to him in private she could warn him and ask for his help. At Zempa’s parties, however, there was only one way to be alone with a guest.
Lily would have to take the American into one of the play rooms and have sex with him.
Chapter Two
Gard followed the herd of party-goers from the ferry up the paved drive to Zempa’s mansion. Designed to look like an old English manor house, the impressive structure had been surrounded with manicured lawns, exotic hibiscus hedges and towering royal palms. Brass torches lined the walkway to the front entry, where a pair of doormen dressed in black tie stood sentinel with blank expressions and weapon holsters bulging under their jackets.
Inside the mansion more guards pretending to be servants took the guests’ jackets and wraps before directing them through a central hall to an enormous room with mirrored walls. Early arrivals occupied enormous jet-black leather pit groups or stood around tall chrome and glass tables as they helped themselves to drinks from four different liquor bars. Crystal wall vases of snowy orchids camouflaged the security cameras, while bland-faced muscle in designer suits stood at strategic points.
“You must be James Gard,” a smooth voice said behind him, and when he turned an older European man produced a toothy smile. “So delighted you could make it. Dutch Zempa.”
“I appreciate the invitation, Dutch.” As Gard shook hands, he noted the diamond rings on Zempa’s soft, manicured fingers and the lump his ankle holster made in his linen trousers. “Quite a place you have here. If you have some time, I’d like to discuss the property you have for sale.”
“Yes, my broker told me of your interest. But tonight I insist we set aside our business concerns for more personal pleasures.” Zempa beckoned to someone, and a moment later a petite blonde in white appeared beside the importer.
Gard felt as if he’d been kicked in the teeth. Here was his fantasy woman, as stunning as he’d imagined in his dreams: the elegantly delicate body, the translu
cent porcelain skin, and the lovely, serene features. Her long, icy-blonde hair spilled like a waterfall of liquid gold over her shoulders, and when she glanced up at him he saw the epicanthic folds of her crystalline blue eyes.
One of his golden lady’s parents had been Asian, which also explained her small, lovely hands and gentle curves.
“This is Lily,” Zempa said, taking the woman’s hand and joining it to Gard’s. “She would like to be your submissive for the evening.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, sir.” Lily’s melodic voice caressed his ears with a French accent, while her exotic eyes met his for a moment before she demurely glanced down. “I hope I can please you.”
“So do I.” Gard imagined kissing her full-lipped, luscious mouth, and wondered if she’d taste as sweet as she looked. No cosmetics marred her porcelain features, and the dress she wore added to her innocent sexiness. He breathed in her rain-scented perfume, and finally regarded Zempa. “Very nice. Is she mine, or do I have to share?”
“She’s yours.” The importer leaned closer and said, “Unless you wish to watch her being used.”
Gard felt Lily’s flinch and tightened his fingers around hers. “No, I don’t play well with others. Come on, sweetheart.” He clamped his arm around her narrow waist. “Let’s get a drink.”
At the bar Gard ordered a whiskey for himself, and the same for Lily at her request. She picked up both drinks, and followed him to a secluded corner where he sat with his back to the wall to observe the entire room. When he tugged Lily down, she didn’t sit beside him, but knelt on the floor by his feet.
“Submissives aren’t permitted on the furniture,” she explained quietly, and nodded to the other young women and men dressed in white. Most were either standing or kneeling, and the few who were sitting were perched on a guest’s lap.
