by Angela Blake
Table of Contents
Chapter One: Sleeping Beauty
Chapter Two: Masquerade
Chapter Three: Dances with Stags
Chapter Four: Brendan
Chapter Five: The Split Bean
Chapter Six: Flirting
Chapter Seven: Newgrange
Chapter Eight: Revelations
Chapter Nine: We Need to Talk
Chapter Ten: Deciphering the Indecipherable
Chapter Eleven: Ireland the Beautiful
Chapter Twelve: Back Home
Chapter Thirteen: Adjustments
Chapter Fourteen: Date Night
Chapter Fifteen: The Curse is Broken
Chapter 1
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
STAG
A Masquerade Ball Romance
By Angela Blake
I’m Angela Blake and I love a good steamy story. Why? Coz life is hard enough as it is. I don’t want real. I want to escape. Into a world of love, sexy cat-and-mouse and the explosive, satisfying reward at the end of it.
Between working from home and juggling two tiny kids and a Labradoodle, writing is my escape.
I write an enticing blend of all things naughty. The things we’re not supposed to want but do. The things we deprive ourselves of but crave. Acting out on paper the dirtiest, darkest parts of my mind for your pleasure.
Join my Naughty Little Secrets Club, where naughty dreams cum to life: http://bit.ly/2rvjbUp
Stalk me on fb at https://www.facebook.com/kateblakepublishing/
Some of my Books:
Bang & Bounce
Grunt & Grind
Slap & Swallow
The Virgin’s Contract
The Virgin’s Promise
The Virgin’s Arrangement
Proposition
Breaking Daddy’s Little Virgin
Table of Contents
Stag
Bang & Bounce
The Virgin’s Arrangement - Teaser
WARNING: This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. It may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults ONLY.
Please ensure this book is stored somewhere that cannot be accessed by underage readers.
Copyright 2018 by Angela Blake - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
Stag
Chapter One: Sleeping Beauty
The boy climbed through the open window, drawn by he knew not what. Maybe it was the wailing. It was compelling; like a call.
Like the wailing was calling to him.
‘Come to me! Come to me!’
So he’d crept up to the brick house, caught hold of the vine that meandered in loving embrace all around the ancient brickwork and began to climb. The second floor was pretty far from the ground but he was a good climber; always fleet and nimble of foot. His mother was forever complaining about how fast he moved. He grinned to himself, thinking about his mother finding out he was no longer in the backyard where she’d left him. There would be hell to pay but this was important. The wailing got louder and then was cut off abruptly.
A second voice floated down to him from the room. This one was not calling to him. In fact he shrank into himself just to hear it. This voice was irritated and frustrated; a low growl audible just below whatever words they were saying. There was a slap of flesh on flesh, a splashing sound and then the wailing began again. Higher this time, as if the wailer was in pain.
The boy climbed faster.
He clambered into the room, falling on his head onto the soft carpeted floor. He froze, waiting to see if anyone had heard him. But apart from the wailing there was no sound in or beyond the room. He stood up slowly, to see a plain white crib sitting in the middle of the room. In the crib, legs and fists kicking agitatedly in the air, was the source of the wailing. The boy crept closer, peered down at the baby.
Her eyes were scrunched shut and her mouth was open as her no doubt very healthy lungs tried to alert somebody that she was unhappy.
“Shhh,” he said finger to his lips. He wanted to touch her so badly, but he didn’t think he was allowed.
The baby opened her eyes and looked up at him with wide startled golden eyes. He leaned closer to study them, seeing that they were not in fact golden. Oh no, they were three different hues ranging from a light honey color on the outside of her irises to a deep swirling chocolate brown in the centre of her pupils.
The boy was fascinated. He had never seen eyes like hers before. They seemed hypnotic, drawing him closer to her, making him want to protect her and nurture her and take her unhappiness away.
The baby was staring up at him, mouth still open in mid-cry although she was silent now, as if waiting for him to do something.
“Hey baby, what’s your name?” he whispered to her, one finger hovering over her crib to catch her eye. There were no toys over her bed, no toys anywhere in the room. In fact, apart from the crib, the room was bare.
“Don’t worry little baby. You’re going to be alright.” He said.
Suddenly there was a scream from the direction of the hall and the boy looked up startled. A woman filled the doorway, hands covering her mouth, eyes wide in shock. She was the source of the scream, but the baby soon joined her agitated cries.
“Who are you? What are you doing near my baby?” the woman cried and the boy stumbled backwards towards the window, his hands held up in front of him to show how harmless he was.
“I-I’m so-sorry,” he stammered not knowing what else to say. His mother was going to kill him when she heard about this.
Suddenly the woman took up a mop that was standing in the corner of the room, ignoring her baby’s wailing she began to advance on the boy as if ready to beat him with the kitchen-implement-turned-weapon in her hand. He tripped on a bit of carpeting, hand hitting the window sill, a spark of pain racing up his arm as he turned quickly and leapt up, thinking only of escape.
He risked a jump he’d never have thought possible to get away from the hard wood that clanged down on the window bars maybe a second or two after he’d moved. Heart racing with fear he reached out and caught the vine, riding it down in a sort of running fall to the bottom. Then he took off as fast as he could, without so much as a glance back at the house.
He never went near the house again, but he could never quite forget that baby.
***
Rachel Hart shuffled through the back door of the coffee shop, reaching out blindly for her apron that usually hung just behind the door. She’d done this so many times it was muscle memory. Her eyes didn’t have to be open.
She dragged her feet over to the coffee pot and switched it on, turning right to flip the oven switch to on. Miguel usually left a tray of pastries in there when he clocked out at midnight, waiting to be warmed first thing in the morning. Eyes still mostly closed, she kicked off her shoes in the corner of the storage room and slipped on her slides. She had forty minutes before she had to open up the doors of the café.
Just enough time to drink her first fortifying cup of Joe, tie back her dark silky hair and stuff it in a hairnet, make sure the tables were wiped down and the counter was clean, and hold her gratitude rock in hand while she recited all the things she was grateful for.
The smell of percolating coffee beans pulled her out of her reverie and she hurried over to the counter, picked up her designated mug and poured herself a cup. Pretty soon the breakfast crowd was demanding all of her attention and she was too busy making sure everything was running smoothly to think about much else.
***
The Split Bean belonged to Rachel’s mother, Sarah, but as her MS became more and more debilitating, she’d turned over most of the daily running to Rachel. Even though she had difficulty moving around, she could still talk. Every evening she would harangue Rachel for all the perceived and actual wrongs Sarah had decided that Rachel committed that day. Either she was too lazy and was running the coffee shop into the ground or she was too busy with the coffee shop to take care of her mother. Rachel could not win.
She was used to it though. She read a lot of self-help books about how family dynamics were complicated so she knew she was not alone. She understood where her mother was coming from; it could not be easy for such a previously active woman to be confined to a wheelchair, practically helpless and reliant on a daughter she’d never really seemed to like.
Rachel particularly liked the books written by women who had a hard time getting along with their mothers. There always seemed to be a happy ending to their stories so maybe Rachel would get one too.
“Good morning.”
Rachel looked up from her musings to see Benny, one of her regulars, smiling gently down at her.
“Morning Benny. The usual?”
“Yes please.”
Benny was extremely soft spoken and painfully shy. When he first started coming to the coffee shop, he would hang back, fidgeting by the doorway before making his way in a roundabout way to the counter. He’d let customers precede him until he was alone at the counter before whispering his order tentatively to an attentive Rachel. Miguel and Angela, their one barista, had an ongoing debate as to why exactly Benny was the way he was. Angela’s latest guess was extreme anxiety while Miguel maintained he was a serial killer, building his cover for the day he would kidnap Rachel.
“Oh it can’t be him,” he would imitate theoretical future bystanders saying; “He looked so harmless.”
Rachel just laughed at them and ignored their banter, cautioning them about making fun of customers as a matter of course. The only reason she didn’t completely put the kibosh on their ongoing debate was the fact that they kept it after hours where there were no customers to overhear and be offended. She still felt uncomfortable with it. Benny trusted her. He was relaxed enough with her now that he even stood in line and waited for his order without fidgeting or looking like he was one wrong word away from bolting out the door. Apart from his daily order of house coffee, Rachel didn’t know much about him. She thought about asking him where he lived sometimes but this was New York and it was none of her business.
“There you go,” she said handing him his to-go cup. He smiled tentatively at her before handing over exact change and shuffling off to the condiments counter. He always took exactly two packs of sugar and a straw for his drink. Rachel watched out of the corner of her eye as he left the premises, most of her attention taken with filling the next order.
Benny was just another mystery she’d never unravel she supposed.
The day was busy and Rachel hardly found time to rest; she was happy that business was booming because heaven knew they needed the money what with the numerous copays her mother had and all the stuff they needed that wasn’t covered by Obamacare like acupuncture which was the only thing that really managed her pain, and the once a month deep tissue massages she had to have. Of course just because they were busy didn’t mean that they were making heaps of money. They were only able to employ one cook and one barista because the budget was so tight. Still, Rachel was grateful if very very tired. Sometimes she would dream of a different life. One where she went to college and chose her own path. It was no more than a fairy tale. A means to lift her spirits when she was down. Like watching a favorite TV show or reading a beloved book.
She was sitting on one of the empty tables, feet up, gathering some energy to start on the clean up when her friend Barry burst into the room. He had basically adopted her when she began working at the Split Bean when she was sixteen. He and his boyfriend Sergio owned the lingerie store down the street. They imported wispy, silky items from Paris and China and were always throwing impossibly sexy underwear at Rachel every time she stopped by.
“You never know when you’ll need it honey,” Barry would say to her with a wink.
She would smile wryly back at him, wondering when in her chaotic life she would ever cultivate enough of a relationship with anyone to the point where they’d see her with her clothes off.
“I guess you can dream,” she’d say.
“Oh no honey, you can dream,” Sergio would retort, “I already have a man to show off my underwear to,” he’d continue with a wink and grin.
Barry flopped down on the seat opposite Rachel, breathing hard.
“What’s wrong?” she said with a furrowed brow, hand reaching out to cover Barry’s on the table. He was a very fit forty six but things did happen.
“Oh my dear,” he said fluttering his hands at her, “I’m fine. I just have the…” he breathed in and out a bit, “…most fabulous news.”
Rachel let a smile spread on her face once she was sure he was just out of breath, “What is it? Did Sergio finally agree to get married?”
“Oh don’t remind me of that man and his hang ups. I have good news!” Barry said.
“Do tell.” Rachel said leaning forward.
“I got you, an invite to the governor’s ball!” he exclaimed.
Rachel gaped at him, “…what?”
“The governor’s ball. I got you an invite,” Barry said, speaking slower like she might be soft in the head.
Rachel spluttered, “But…why would I want to go to the governor’s ball?” she asked, totally bewildered.
“Because…weren’t you looking for a way to network? Expand your business? Maybe build your customer base? You won’t find a better opportunity I assure you.”
Rachel just continued to gape at him, “But…I don’t have anything to wear.”
Barry beamed at her, “Oh don’t worry your little head about that. We’ll take care of everything.”
“But…I can’t. Who will stay home with my mother? What about the shop? Someone has to close up and…”
“Rachel,” Barry cut her off, “Breath. Now didn’t I just say we’ll take care of everything? Uncle Barry and Uncle Sergio have it all covered darling.”
“I…can’t-” Rachel began to say, flailing helplessly.
“You can and you will. And that’s the last we’re talking about it. Where’s my half caf decaf frappuccino to go hmm?”
Rachel stood up dazedly and went to get him his drink.
Chapter Two: Masquerade
Barry had neglected to mention that it was a masquerade ball. Rachel only found out when she went for her fitting appointment and was presented with a costume instead of a gown.
“What is this?” she asked.
“Why, it’s Cinderella of course. Who else could you possibly go as?”
“I don’t know. Marie Antoinette?”
“Ugh. Don’t you get enough of cake at your shop? Live a little mi querido,” Sergio said.
“Well then how about beauty and the beast then?” Rachel really did not want to be a walking cliché.
Sergio sighed.
Barry shrugged.
“It’s more or less the same costume,” he pointed out to Sergio, “Only one’s yellow, the other’s white.”
Sergio stared at Rachel, “Yes but with
her complexion, that hair, those eyes…she’d look fantastic in white.”
Barry looked Rachel up and down, “Yes, she really would.”
Rachel rolled her eyes, “You guys,” she said in exasperated fondness, “this isn’t a fairy tale and there are no princes waiting for me. So maybe we just get a nice unremarkable costume and I can go to this thing and network? Find some new partners maybe? Expand the business? Remember that?”
“Oh, of course, of course. It’s why I brought you the invite in the first place,” Barry hastened to agree though his cheeks were slightly flushed.
“But I completely veto this nonsense about an unremarkable costume,” Sergio said making air quotes around the words.
“Okay Sergio, you get me a nice costumey gown and I will be forever grateful. Now I need to go print some business cards so are you done measuring me?”
Sergio gave her one last once over, “Yes, I’m done for now. Fitting tomorrow.”
Rachel leaned in and kissed his cheek, “Thank you Serg. Gotta go.”
Sergio and Barry watched as she loped off toward the print shop, dark hair flying in inadvertent artfulness behind her. They both sighed simultaneously before turning their backs on the window and getting to work.
“I think we go with white,” Barry said.
“Yes, definitely Cinderella but we make the color closer to silver and maybe she won’t realize.”
They exchanged glances before bursting out laughing.
“Dibs on the fairy godmother,” Barry said.
Sergio shrugged, “In this fairytale, Cinderella has two,” he replied.
Barry couldn’t help himself; he just had to kiss his boyfriend for being so clever.
***
Rachel lost her breath when she saw the silver ball gown with lace cap sleeves in vintage style that Sergio got for her. Its bodice was lovingly defined by pearl sequins. Her ample bosom would definitely play peek-a-boo with that plunging neckline while the well fitted bodice was guaranteed to hug every one of her curves. The bottom of the dress was an enormous bell-shaped cascade.
