Black Light_Valentine Roulette

by Livia Grant

  He was torn between wanting to give her all the care she needed and being responsible for cleaning the equipment so another couple could move on. He unbuckled her ankles and helped her to stand, wrapping the blanket more snugly around her. “Close your eyes. Stand here and count to thirty. I’m going to wipe down the bench and then we’ll go to the chill room,” he murmured.

  She obeyed, closing her eyes and nodding.

  He patted her bottom. “Good girl.”

  Jen had never been so worked over in her life. Her body felt boneless, made of rubber. She wasn’t even sure how she managed to stand. Derek’s command to close her eyes had been a godsend because she definitely didn’t want to take in the audience around them, nor the other couples nor...anything but him.

  Her pussy still pulsed with the incredible climax, and her anus burned. Her ass throbbed in time with her heartbeat. Bliss poured through her, swirled in her chest, her belly, her core. She might actually be floating an inch off the floor.

  But Derek still wanted to talk. What had he said?

  When I’m finished, you’d better be ready to talk to your daddy about what you need.

  She didn’t even know what he meant by that. She didn’t need anything except for things to remain the same between them. She needed him to be her weekend dungeon master, nothing more, nothing less.

  One of Derek’s strong arms looped around her waist. “Okay, baby.” In a quick swoop, he had her up in his arms, cradled like an infant. She hadn’t liked all the carrying earlier, but this time, it felt both necessary and right.

  He made it seem easy, like she weighed nothing, and giving herself to him seemed easier this time, too.

  He carried her to the chill-out room and sat down on one of the red leather couches.

  “Ready to talk?”

  She shook her head.

  He didn’t turn stern, but, rather, the corners of his lips quirked and he touched her nose. “Too bad. You gotta tell me why you’re so sure we can’t have a relationship.”

  She thought about arguing that they did have a relationship—one that worked perfectly as it was, but she didn’t want to annoy him. Not when she was feeling so good.

  “Who hurt you? What did he do?”

  She tried to swallow over the stiff band that had tightened around her throat.

  “Did he cheat on you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Leave you?”

  “No, sir,” she whispered, hoping he wouldn’t correct her. She really preferred sir to daddy. She tried to think of the words to explain to Derek, but the thought of bringing Sal—insignificant, petty, small Sal—into a discussion about their relationship seemed wrong. But wasn’t that what she was doing anyway? Letting Sal dictate the current terms of her relationship status? She’d broken up with him but still let him mean so much. Was Derek like him?

  In this light, they seemed completely different. Of course they both were years older than she and Sal had been then. They brought maturity to the table.

  “I just—” She wanted to explain it to him, didn’t want him to think it was about him, specifically. “I can’t be submissive in my real life. I just can’t. It’s hard enough to try to lead men who hate answering to a female officer. I feel like I’m always trying to prove myself. I don’t have the energy to do that in a relationship, too.”

  Derek’s gaze turned sympathetic. “Baby,” he said softly, “I would never stand in your way. You know I have complete respect for you—out there and in here. That’s how this works. You say yellow, I pay close attention. You say red, I stop. You’re always in control of me and my actions.” He stroked her cheek. “I know a submissive isn’t a doormat. I don’t expect to control your life. Is that what you’re afraid of?”

  She watched him carefully, looking for a trap. “Yes.” She left the sir off as a test. They were talking about real life. Would they be equals out there?

  “Baby, I’m actually a pretty laid-back guy. I take orders well. I also lead well. I’m open to negotiating when and how you allow me to lead. And I would never, ever take your submission for granted. I know it’s a gift.”

  It sounded too good to be true, but she couldn’t stop the fireworks exploding in her chest, in her heart.

  “I would support your career one hundred percent. When you came home, wound tighter than a spring, I’d make you dinner and whip your ass until you went soft again. Until your pussy’s dripping wet for me and you’re willing to give me anything I ask for.”

  Her laugh came out shaky. “Yeah?”

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “Yeah.”

  “I just...can’t deal with controlling.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, you deal with controlling magnificently. You just need to negotiate boundaries—areas of life where you won’t tolerate it.”

  She nodded, relief sweeping through her. He made it sound so easy. “Yes,” she breathed.

  “I get it. And I’m still in.” He picked up her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist, his lips impossibly soft for such a tough man.

  “Me too.”

  Surprise and pleasure sparked in his expression. “You’re in?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I’m in.”

  He stood up, abruptly, still holding her. “Come on, let’s go.”

  She kicked her feet playfully. “Where are we going?”

  “We’re getting out of here. I’m taking you home. My place or yours?”

  “Wait—what about the event? We might win a prize!”

  He shook his head. “I won the prize I came for.”

  Her heart did a double backflip and landed with its arms in a victory V. By the time she’d recovered her breath to laugh or protest, he’d made it to the costume room, where he demanded her bag of ripped clothing and shoes.

  “Derek—Daddy—do you still want me to call you that?”

  He grinned. “Master, sir, Daddy, Derek. Any of those will do. Depends on the moment, I guess. We’ll figure it out, won’t we?”

  She seriously couldn’t wipe the goofy grin from her face.

  He dropped her in front of the women’s locker room. “Get changed. You have exactly”—he looked at his watch—“two-point-five minutes.”

  She laughed and went inside. She had to force her muscles to move because hurrying wasn’t in their repertoire at the moment. As she dressed, Derek filled her every thought—the idea of going home with him thrilling now, instead of non-negotiable.

  She stepped out to find him clocking her on his watch.

  “Two-point-two-three. You never back down from a challenge, do you, baby?”

  She laughed. “Never.”

  He winked. “That’s why I’m signing up for your team. I don’t want to ever go against you, beautiful.”

  And with that, the last fear left from Sal exploded with a puff and drifted away. Derek hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her against his side, leaning over to kiss the top of her head.

  “I never thought you’d be the head-kissing type.”

  “Is it a letdown?”

  She laughed. “No...just unexpected.”

  “There’s a lot you’re going to find out about me, baby.” When she looked up, he winked. “All good, I swear.”

  Her heart had already soared on ahead, through the tunnel and up the stairs, gliding into their future. For the moment, all she could do was lean her head against his shoulder, allow herself to be tucked against his side, and sigh. “I can’t wait to find out.”

  The End

  About the Author

  USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR RENEE ROSE is a naughty wordsmith who writes kinky romance novels. Named Eroticon USA's Next Top Erotic Author in 2013, she has also won The Romance Reviews Best Historical Romance, and Spanking Romance Reviews' Best Historical, Best Erotic, Best Ageplay and favorite author. She's hit #1 on Amazon in the Erotic Paranormal, Western and Sci-fi categories. She also pens BDSM stories under the name Darling Adams.

  To receive five free Renee Rose b
ooks, enter your email here.

  Where to find Renee Rose:

  Blog

  Twitter

  Facebook

  Goodreads

  Pinterest

  Instagram

  Other Books by Renee Rose

  Dark Mafia Romance

  The Don’s Daughter, Mob Mistress, The Bossman

  Contemporary

  Owned by the Marine, Theirs to Punish, Punishing Portia, The Professor’s Girl, Safe in his Arms, Saved, The Elusive “O” (FREE)

  Sci-Fi

  The Hand of Vengeance, His Human Slave, His Human Prisoner, Training His Human

  Paranormal

  The Alpha’s Promise, His Captive Mortal, The Alpha’s Punishment, The Alpha’s Hunger, Deathless Love, Deathless Discipline, The Winter Storm: An Ever After Chronicle

  Regency

  The Darlington Incident, Humbled, The Reddington Scandal, The Westerfield Affair, Pleasing the Colonel

  Western

  His Little Lapis, The Devil of Whiskey Row, The Outlaw’s Bride

  Medieval

  Mercenary, Medieval Discipline, Lords and Ladies, The Knight’s Prisoner, Betrothed, Held for Ransom, The Knight’s Seduction, The Conquered Brides (5 book box set)

  Renaissance

  Renaissance Discipline

  Ageplay

  Stepbrother’s Rules, Her Hollywood Daddy, His Little Lapis

  BDSM under the name Darling Adams

  Yes, Doctor

  Revealed by Livia Grant

  A Black Light: Valentine Roulette Novella

  by

  Livia Grant

  Chapter 1

  “Miss Monroe, I’m sorry to wake you, but we’re about to land. I need you to put your seat in an upright position and stow your belongings. We’ll be landing at LaGuardia in about twenty minutes.”

  She flew this red-eye transcontinental trip often between Los Angeles and New York City. The first-class flight attendant knew her well, waking her to ensure she’d have enough time to put on her face as well as choke down at least one energy drink, a tall cup of coffee and a granola bar. Today, however, when Khloe pulled off the soft eye mask she wore when sleeping, she was also greeted with a decorated chocolate cupcake with an unlit candle in the middle.

  “I wish we could light it, but that’s against regulations. The crew and I would like to wish you a happy birthday.” Several other flight attendants had gathered to wish her well. It was a very nice thought, but she’d be lying if she said she was excited about turning twenty-five while she’d been sleeping at thirty thousand feet.

  Khloe plastered on her default smile. “Thank you so much, Wendy. Everyone. I really appreciate it.” As the attendant reached to place the cupcake on the small table next to her seat, Khloe complained. “Oh no you don’t! Someone else needs to eat that.”

  Wendy didn’t look surprised at all at her refusal to eat the fattening food, yet she ignored her customer’s wish completely, setting the cupcake down next to her already waiting coffee and low-fat breakfast bar. “I knew you’d say that, but it’s your birthday. If you can’t splurge on one small cupcake on your birthday, then when can you? Live dangerously.”

  Khloe wasn’t sure if the off-handed comment made her want to laugh or cry. Wendy’s broad smile told her the older woman only had her best wishes in mind, but she couldn’t possibly know the struggle Khloe fought every single day to stay thin enough. Pretty enough. Young enough.

  Working in a business that prized physical perfection took its toll.

  If she felt like this on her twenty-fifth birthday, she couldn’t even imagine what it would be like turning thirty or God-forbid, forty. Each year that passed went faster than the last. What alarmed her most was that life seemed to be getting harder instead of easier. She’d poured everything she had into her Plan A: becoming an A-list actress and model. Everything she ate, wore, worked-on, and even thought about revolved around making that happen.

  And eating cupcakes didn’t help her cause.

  Khloe spent ten minutes freshening up in the tiny inflight lavatory, pulling her signature long sandy-blonde hair into a high pony-tail and applying just enough make-up to not look like she’d just taken the red-eye. The only good thing about arriving in NYC at seven-thirty on a Friday morning was that the business travelers rushing through the airport were more worried about catching their flights home than looking for celebrities.

  Wendy had her designer winter coat and Rimowa carryon bag waiting for her as she deplaned. She’d be the first off the 747. “I hope you have a wonderful birthday today, Miss Monroe, and also a Happy Valentine’s Day. We’ll see you the next time.”

  Shit. She’d almost forgotten about that joyful occasion. She hid her anxiety, hoping her sixth sense was wrong. “Thanks, Wendy. Next time.”

  Pulling her large sunglasses from the side-pocket of her leather bag, Khloe took off down the long jet way. She pushed down the flutter of butterflies she always got just before stepping into public; always aware she was on display. Unflattering pictures taken when she’d been caught off-guard weren’t going to make her dream come true. She’d learned the more success she had, the more careful she had to be.

  With each step she took, she raised her chin a bit more, added a bit more sass to her swagger, neutralized her face into her superior, unapproachable glare she liked to carry when traveling without her bodyguard or publicist.

  That was another side effect of her success; attracting the crazies.

  By the time she shot out of the doorway into the terminal, she was in her celebrity zone. It was what let her ignore the whispers of people recognizing her as she walked by, pointing or even yelling out to try to get her attention. It also allowed her not to panic when she saw people with their cell phones out, taking photos as she passed by.

  She’d texted her car service while they’d taxied to the gate and she was grateful to see the driver in a black suit holding the small white-board with MONROE splashed across it. She didn’t recognize the driver, but it didn’t matter. He recognized her, and he reached out to take her bag as soon as she reached him.

  “Good morning, Miss Monroe. I’m Johnson. It’s my pleasure to drive you into Manhattan this morning. The weather is a balmy thirty degrees and the sun is even out to welcome you home this morning.”

  “Thank you, Johnson.”

  Polite, but removed. Her mantra.

  Once settled into the back of the black Lincoln Town Car, Khloe relaxed slightly. The tinted windows protected her from the paparazzi and allowed her to take off her sunglasses. Her stomach growled, always hungry. This morning felt worse, as if her tummy was angry with her for passing up on the chance to eat a cupcake.

  Hell. It was her birthday. She should splurge.

  “Can you run through a Starbucks drive-through for me? I’d kill for a skinny latte.”

  “Of course, Miss Monroe.”

  It was eight-fifteen by the time they hit the Chelsea neighborhood where she’d rented a loft for the last four years. What her apartment lacked in size, it more than made up for with a combination of famous neighbors and tight building security. Most of the shops on 10th Avenue weren’t open yet, but Johnson ran in to collect the venti skinny latte she’d ordered from her phone app.

  As she waited in the car, she allowed herself to feel a bit of excitement for the upcoming weekend. She had pissed off her producers in L.A. by demanding they worked around her starting her one-week hiatus a day early so she could fly to NYC in time to surprise Dean. She was arriving twenty-four hours early, just in time to surprise her famous boyfriend at the opening night of the newest Broadway play that his best friend just happened to be starring in.

  Khloe looked forward to seeing the boyfriend she’d been apart from for five weeks. She’d been horny as hell lately and God knows her vibrator would appreciate a break. She glanced at her watch as they pulled up in front of her building. Eight-thirty. He would be arriving from London in about two hours. She had just enough t
ime to work out and take a shower before he got to her apartment.

  “Welcome home, Miss Monroe.” Patrick, their primary doorman, held open the car door for her, helping her out while the driver gathered up her belongings and brought them to her on the curb.

  “Thanks, Patrick. It’s good to be home.”

  “You gonna be in town for long this visit?”

  “A whole week! Can you believe it?”

  “That’s great. I’m happy for you. You just let me know if there is anything you need. Anything at all.” She’d given her doorman a handsome bonus during the holidays. It sounded like he was still appreciative.

  “Sounds good.”

  The lobby was small, but opulent. The elevator tiny, but fast. She enjoyed thinking about her coming evening while she rode to her twenty-third story apartment. It wasn’t exactly the penthouse. Not yet, but it was only two floors below. So close.

  And yet so far. I’m always coming in second.

  She pushed down the constant temptation to wallow in self-doubt, focusing on mind-over-matter. She knew she’d enjoy the show that night, but it was the red-carpet opportunity that had got her on the plane a day early. It wasn’t every day she’d get to be photographed alongside so many other celebrities and she just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. She considered it her birthday present to herself.

  Her key stuck in the old door, making her wrestle with the second dead-bolt before it finally sprang free, allowing her entrance into the small but open living space. Khloe flicked on the light switch next to the entrance. The line of decorative lamps hanging down above the large eat-in island illuminated, separating the upscale kitchen from the living room. She stopped to lock the door behind her before crossing to the blackout drapes hiding the wall of windows to her right. She swished them open, letting the bright sunlight bathe the apartment as she gazed west to the Hudson River just a few blocks away.