by Michelle Fox
Dominance Submission BDSM Erotica: Burning for Him
Michelle Fox
Copyright 2013. All rights reserved.
Smashwords Edition
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Blurb
Three nights to ravish her body, one curse to shatter her heart...
A magic locket brings the demon Khan into Selena Connor’s life--and bed--just in the nick of time. Her fiancé’s stolen her life savings, she faces crushing debts, and her boss is trying to harass her into his bed. When Khan appears, his dark magic unlocks the deepest secrets of her body and heart. His touch ignites a burning desire that bends Selena to his will and erases all her cares.
But Khan's curse binds him to the locket's owner for only three nights of soul-searing pleasure, and just as Selena realizes she can’t live without him, Khan vanishes. Reality comes crashing in: Selena's boss has framed her to take the fall for his crimes. If she refuses his advances now, it's jail. She may as well be cursed herself.
With nothing left to lose, Selena takes a leap of faith. Only one man--Khan--will ever truly possess her. And maybe she's the one woman who can free him.
An erotic novella (code for longer than a short story but not as long as a full novel) of approximately 20,000 words; expect steamy sex with BDSM elements.
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Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction intended for adults age 18 and over. Minors should stop here and close the book.
All events depicted are fictional. Characters are consenting adults. Any resemblance to places and persons, living or dead, is unintentional coincidence.
The author’s portrayal of BDSM is fantastical; do not try this at home.
Every effort has been made to provide a quality reading experience, but editors and technology are fallible. Please report typos or formatting issues to [email protected].
Burning for Him
Selena eyed the locket her aunt had sent her, running her finger over its worn surface. Made of gold, it bore a fine filigree design with a purple stone set in the center. An obvious antique, it would look at home on a Victorian woman’s bosom, and completely out of place on Selena’s sleek frame. She had a modern aesthetic, with a layered bob and a taste for understated jewelry.
But Aunt Bev was a bit of a kook. When she’d heard that Selena’s fiancé had cut and run--along with most of her niece’s savings--she’d sent a little care package. The chocolate had been excellent. Selena devoured it all within minutes, relishing the sugar rush and welcoming the distraction the smooth, milky sweetness provided from her troubles. Also in the box, a DVD of some chick flick Selena had no interest in. She liked her romance with a little spice--the movies were too soft for her.
I like my men with more edge and they never show that in these films.
Of course, Selena hadn’t expected her Aunt to know her taste in entertainment. The locket, though, was a bit of a surprise. Although maybe she had thought it was steam punk, which was on trend these days. There’d been a note in the package saying she’d thought of Selena when she saw the locket, something that made Selena raise her eyebrows. Old and fussy were not adjectives most people would use to describe her, but then Aunt Bev always saw things differently.
With a sigh, she tossed the locket onto her kitchen counter. Maybe she could sell it. God knew she needed the money and the locket likely was old enough to be worth something. Poverty was an unhappy side effect of falling in love with a con man.
Nick had seemed perfect. Looking back, she could see how he was too perfect. A little too interested in her affairs and all too eager to arrange her accounts with his name on them. She had thought the attention was a sign of his love, a harbinger of a future where Nick was her happily ever after. Instead, it foretold her financial destruction, only she’d been too dumb to see it coming.
She sighed and headed for the kitchen where she always kept a full complement of wines. If she was going to go down memory lane until it intersected with her current heartache, she would need to medicate. The engagement ring had been stunning though, she thought with a grim smile. A princess cut diamond, a tasteful quarter carat in size, flanked by two sapphires and paid for with her credit card, naturally. Oh, he’d said he would pay her back when his bonus came in. Of course there was no bonus because there was no job. If he hadn’t taken the ring when he disappeared into the night, she might’ve kept it.
At least I’ll always have the credit card bill.
And it wasn’t like he was all that great in bed anyway. He was as much fun as a chick flick.
That had been the one thing she’d been unhappy with in their relationship. Nick didn’t do it for her in the bedroom. No man ever had.
Well maybe if you were honest about what you wanted.
She pushed back the thought, unwilling to face it. Her mind wouldn’t stop though and reminded her of all the stories she’d hidden under her bed. Books full of wicked things that no normal person would do.
Then why do you read them? she taunted herself.
With a sigh, Selena poured herself a glass of wine and gulped it down, wanting to silence the mental reverie. Her stomach growled reminding her she’d had nothing to eat since a piece of toast at five a.m. that morning. She stared at the inside of her refrigerator willing something appetizing to appear. When that didn’t work, she ordered Chinese takeout paying for it with the last ten dollars on her debit card--good thing pay day wasn’t too far out or she’d starve. While she waited for the delivery man, she wandered aimlessly through her small apartment. For ambiance, she put on some classic punk rock, dancing and drinking until the food arrived.
An hour later, stuffed full of MSG-laden food and a little tipsy from the wine, Selena found herself contemplating the locket again. There was something about it that drew her to it, some kind of aura. Of old age or something else, she had no idea, but she couldn’t keep from touching it. Every time she went to set it down, thinking to move on to her Thursday night TV shows, she ended up picking it up once more. The attraction was palpable, as if she and the locket were magnets unable to stay apart. She noticed that it was hot in her hands, much warmer than body temperature.
“That’s weird,” she said. Curious, she put the locket in the fridge, waited a few minutes and picked it up again. It was even hotter now and she dropped it on the counter with a wince.
To her amazement, it began to glow red. Concerned about a fire, she grabbed a pair of tongs and used them to drop the locket into an empty pot on the stove.
She watched it with a frown. I’ve heard of spontaneous combustion, but how does metal set itself on fire? And would the fire department laugh at her when she called? She hoped it didn’t come to that.
Trying to be proactive, she filled a cup with cold water and dumped it into the pot. Steam hissed like an angry cobra and rose into the air to tower over her in a shadowy threat. The wate
r that remained in the pot roiled in a furious boil. Something really strange was going on. She grabbed her cell phone, fingers hesitating over the numbers nine-one-one.
When the locket started vibrating with enough force to rattle against the sides of the pot, she backed away and pressed nine. Smoke billowed up to reach the cathedral ceiling of her kitchen, growing bigger and thicker with each passing second. A loud boom sounded, shaking the floor like thunder. Then the strangest thing of all happened...a man appeared. An honest-to-God, in-the-flesh hunk of man.
He was tall with dark hair, caramel skin and well-defined muscles. His eyes were a tawny hazel that reminded her of a lion. He wore nothing except for a pair of loose, flowing pajama pants that looked to be made of silk. He quickly scanned the room, zeroing in on Selena with a fierce gaze full of dark intent.
Selena’s cell phone slipped from nerveless fingers to clatter on the floor. A scream curled in her throat and abruptly died before she could open her mouth.
“Don’t be afraid,” the man said. His voice boomed like there was a bass drum in his chest. “I won’t hurt you. Not unless you want me to.” He smiled at that last bit and the full force of his handsome features struck Selena. The man was gorgeous. His golden eyes seemed to burn past her skin to the soul underneath.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice quavering less than expected. I sound pretty good for someone scared out of her wits and about to die at the hands of a mad man, she thought absently in the part of her brain that observed her situation with the detachment of someone watching a movie.
He gave a little bow, six-pack crumpling like so many dominoes as he moved. “My name is Khan. I am the demon in the locket.”
“The d-d-demon in the wha--” It was too much for her to take, and she abandoned speech in favor of running for the door, but he was already there, standing between her and safety. His arms were crossed, and he had a slightly bored expression on his face as if he’d done this before and found it dull. She spun on her heel and tried for the back door, but he beat her there too.
“What do you want? Money?” She threw up her hands. “I don’t have any.”
He waved a dismissive hand, his bicep flexing impressively. “I have no use for money.”
“What do you want then?”
He looked at her, his gaze intrusive as it roamed her body assessing every curve with frank interest. “You.”
“You’re not my type.” She took a step back, her mind racing as she tried to decide where to run to next.
He advanced on her, his bulk looming over her. “What is your type, Selena? Nick was supposed to be your everything and how did that story end?”
“How do you know about Nick?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper as disbelief and panic locked her throat.
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You thought he was the one. The prince of your dreams. The man who was a safe bet...one you lost.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as if communing with the universe. “But you don’t want safe anyway, do you, Selena? The books under your bed tell a different story.” He snapped his fingers and a stack of books that Selena recognized as hers appeared in his hands.
He perused them, reading the spines. “The Story of O, a classic. The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty--” He paused and shrugged. “I thought it was okay. Not my favorite. I liked her vampire books better. What did you think?”
Selena just stood there, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. She wanted to speak, but didn’t have any words. Honestly, what did one say to a demon going through someone’s collection of erotica?
Noticing her angst, he gave her a kind smile that drew her attention to the laugh lines at his eyes. They didn’t age him, but softened his expression into something approaching friendliness. “Don’t fret. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He leaned in close, his breath hot as an open flame on her neck and whispered, “We like to read the same books.”
He set the books aside and, hands clasped behind his back, he paced in front of her. “Let me explain the terms of our arrangement.”
She crossed her arms, trying to appear relaxed even though every muscle in her body was rigid with alarm. “Yes, please do.” Selena was pleased to hear her voice come out steady with a slight sarcastic edge. Atta girl. Show no weakness.
“I am at your service for three nights and three nights only.” He held up the requisite number of fingers for emphasis.
“Service?” She echoed, her eyebrows raised in confusion.
He shot a broad smile her way, his expression scorching.“I will give you unknown pleasure.”
“I don’t want--” she started, but he cut her off.
“Yes, you do. All women do. You see, Selena, I can give you every erotic fantasy, every dream you’ve ever had.” He came to stand in front of her and traced the outline of her face with his finger. His touch blazed a trail over her forehead, down her cheek, past her neck and over her collarbone. “I know your secret desires and I can fulfill each and every one of them.”
Her breath caught at his touch and she swallowed. Like the locket, he ran warm. His finger reminded her of a hot stone massage she’d had once. It radiated the kind of decadent heat that burrowed under the skin to the flesh and bone underneath.
He smiled, his lion eyes flashing like amber held up to the sun. “I am a virtuoso, not of music, but sex. Hot, raw sex. Just the way you’ve always wanted it.”
She thought of her fantasies, of all her dark desires and curled her fingers into her palms, hoping the small movement would keep her anchored. This man’s handsomeness had gone right to her head and tugged at her core with commanding insistence. He’s a stranger. This is crazy. But her doubts didn’t keep her from asking, “And what does that cost?”
He extended his hands, palm up. “Nothing.”
“But there’s always a price, isn’t there?” She’d read enough fairytales to be wary of his denial.
“You don’t pay the price, I do.” A shadow crossed his face as he spoke, but he cleared his throat and it was gone.
Before she could protest, he pulled her into his arms, the embrace similar to being wrapped in a blanket straight from the dryer. Then he kissed her. His lips scorched hers, his tongue plunging between them to claim her mouth while the heat of his body throbbed against her skin, penetrating her cells until they went slack in an overheated stupor. Selena’s hands clenched even tighter as if she wanted to fight, but, with a sigh, she relaxed and set them on his shoulders instead, reveling in the sensation of his muscles rippling under her palms.
He paused for one, brief second. “Say yes.”
It took her a moment to process the end of their kiss. Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze locking with his. This is crazy, she thought, but the idea of him inside her, of the way he would command pleasure and ply her with it made her weak in the knees. I want to be crazy. Just this once. What’s the worst that could happen? Nick already stole all my money. This is probably a wine fueled dream anyway.
“Yes,” she breathed. I’m not saying no to a dream this good.
A broad smile spread across his face. “You have made me very happy, Selena.” He resumed their kiss and his hands roamed her body. He peeled off her clothes; first her shirt followed by the bra and then her pants and underwear. The warmth from his hands branded her flesh and even though she was naked it felt as if she was dressed in his heat
She held her breath, gaze dropping to the floor as he paused to take her in. His hands brushed lightly over her body. “You have beautiful skin. So white, so ready to be pink for me.” He slapped her lightly on the ass, chuckling when she jumped. “Isn’t that right, my sweet pet?”
When she didn’t answer because she had no idea what to say, he swatted her behind again. The contact was light, but she still flinched, unused to being a target. “The answer is, yes, Sir.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said in a tremulous voice. Her dream had an edge that she found both exciting and alarming.
&nb
sp; He moved to stand in front of her, hands cupping her breasts, palms warm as hot packs. Hefting each globe in turn, he teased her nipples into prominence with deft strokes of his thumbs. “These are perfection,” he declared and squeezed them in an almost crushing grip that forced a gasp of alarm from Selena. “You are like marble, waiting to be marked by a master.”
He released her breasts and beckoned with a commanding air. “Come.”
He led the way into her bedroom with an easy confidence, as if he’d been back to her room dozens of times instead of never. Selena watched him go and then hurried to catch up, gasping at what she saw once she crossed the threshold. Metal rings hung on the wall above her bed and a large trunk in black with brass tack sat at its foot.
“Where did all this come from?” she asked, unable to keep the wonder from her voice.
Khan lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I wish it so and so it is.”
“Neat trick. Can you teach me how to do that?” She went over to the trunk and started to lift the lid, curious to see what was inside.
Khan put his large hand on the trunk, keeping the lid down. “You will make intimate acquaintance with everything in here, but when I wish it, not to satisfy your curiosity.”
She pulled her hand back and embarrassment heated her cheeks. “Sorry.”
“Sir.”
She gave him a confused look.
“I am your Master. You will call me Sir.”
“Sorry, Sir?”
Khan nodded in approval and guided her to the bed where he pushed her down onto the mattress. He pulled her arms over head as she watched him with wide eyes, almost hypnotized by the liquid strength of his torso. Every movement, no matter how small, telegraphed through his impressive physique.
“Have you ever been restrained, pet?” he asked as he tied her hands to the metal rings above her bed.
“No Sir,” she said, breathless with anticipation.
“I think you’ll enjoy your first time.” He yanked her ankles apart, stretching them past the edges of the mattress to secure them to metal poles that appeared at the snap of his fingers.
