by Piper Stone
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
EBook Offer
Scorch
Missoula Smokejumpers Book Six
Piper Stone
Blushing Books
Contents
What’s Inside
FREE Books for Amazon Customers
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Piper Stone
EBook Offer
Blushing Books Newsletter
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©2018 by Blushing Books® and Piper Stone
All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Piper Stone
Scorch
EBook ISBN: 978-1-61258-729-5
Print ISBN: 978-1-61258-631-1
Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
What’s Inside
“I want to know more about you. Is that so wrong?”
“Not wrong.” His eyes sparkling, he lifted her hand, kissing her fingers, licking across her knuckles.
“That’s no fair,” she breathed, her nipples scraping against her bra. She could feel her body swaying as a flush cascaded down the length of her spine, the backs of her legs, crinkling her toes.
“Oh, it’s very fair.” Taking her index finger, he slid it into his mouth, dragging his tongue back and forth as he sucked.
“Mmm…” Swallowing, she could tell she was swooning, her pussy clenching. “I might be convinced to keep your secret.”
Sawyer continued licking for a few seconds before teething her finger and allowing a subtle popping noise when he released the tip from his wet mouth. “This isn’t about convincing, Miss Winton. This is about you obeying the rules. I think you need a solid reminder.”
“You do, huh?”
“Yes.” Grabbing her hand, he took long strides toward the kitchen, his eyes roaming the area as he nodded over and over again. “What shall we do? Oh, yes. I know.” Every action with purpose, he pushed her over the kitchen table, lifting the edge of her dress. “I think a spanking before dinner and at least one after will do the trick.”
“Wait a minute. I’m actually a very good girl.” She pushed up from the table, laughing yet she was on fire, the scent of her feminine wiles floating between them.
“Oh, you’re very good, but you’re also disobedient. Now, you stay right there, or your punishment is going to be a lot worse. Do you understand?”
She bit back a moan. “Yes, sir.”
“I can tell you’re going to be a handful.”
Closing her eyes, she eased her arms over her head, pressing her face against the glass table. Everything about this man was surprising, creating a whirlwind of yearning, a flash to fantasies long unfulfilled. This was a new beginning and she was more than ready to let go. She heard him rummaging through drawers, the soft murmurs of husky desire and she couldn’t help but wiggle against the table. She would have begged for a hard spanking if he hadn’t insisted.
“Here we go. This will be a perfect start.”
She opened her eyes enough to see the very thick wooden spatula, the kind used for stirring Chinese food or a perfect sauté. But what did she actually know about cooking?
He pushed his hand against the small of her back as he dragged the spoon across her skin, tapping first one then the other ass cheek. “Be a good girl and stay in position or my leather belt will be used. Are we clear?”
“You’re serious about this.”
“Very. I ask again. Do you understand?”
“Of course, sir.” There was no denying her desire to succumb, her need to submit now and forever. She knew this was merely a teaser, the beginning of their exchange of power and she knew she could trust him with her body as well as her heart. The thought was cathartic.
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Chapter 1
Bust: Intense period of lightning activity
Burnout: Fire set to burn areas between control lines
Slash: Debris left after logging
Zulies: Missoula Smokejumpers
Dark. Dangerous. Delicious.
Why were the words circling in her mind when she should be finalizing preparations for court? Reese Winton dropped her head into her hands, allowing an anguished groan to slide past her dry lips. Exhaustion was the name of the game, not preparation for yet another long day, a destructive day in her mind. Her eyes fell on the inch-thick case file and she grimaced. There were far too many days she loathed her job. Maybe just this case. Oh, who was she kidding?
She was pining away for a man who was exciting, handsome and dominating, but he would never belo
ng to her. She was beginning to wonder why they’d developed any kind of relationship in the first place. No, this wasn’t an actual relationship. He’d pursued her relentlessly until she’d given in, managing to peel away her mask if only slightly.
No one would ever know the real woman inside.
Exhaling, she took a gulp of water and willed herself to continue working. Everything came down to the final statement and normally, she would be on a high, reveling in the full understanding she would win the case, save the poor, innocent soul, a person falsely accused of a heinous crime.
Only this time, the supposed innocent man was a dangerous creature. Her innate instinct had been screaming to run away from the case since day one. There was zero possibility of that happening. If only her peers knew she’d never wanted to become a defense attorney. Karma had a way of altering her life. At least she’d had some carnal entertainment, keeping her anxious for an entirely different reason.
Danger seemed to follow her everywhere, but the concept of dark and delicious danger was certainly more enticing. Her nipples hardened at the thought. Why was she thinking about sex when she had so damn much work to do?
She stole a quick glance at her watch, not even flinching seeing the late hour. Every day had been the same since accepting, no, being told she was handling the Tatum defense. In her mind, the freak was guilty. Guilty! You bet, he was a murderer, a serial killer who enjoyed torturing his victims.
But no one believed he could be so evil.
She knew in her gut what the highly intelligent, soft spoken asshole was capable of. She’d spent far too much time alone with the man. Man? Hell, monster. Allowing a long exhale, she fingered the file. The pictures were damning. Disgusting. Every glossy depicted his method of madness, a jagged knife cutting away every beautiful feature, digging into his victim’s skin. Gouging out their eyes, as if they’d seen too much.
Even the fires set at every scene, what experts called an amateurish attempt at torching the evidence, was nothing more than attempting to purify the women. At least according to the psychologist her office had consulted with. They were looking for a killer with an ax to grind. The prosecution was certain they had their man. And so was she. Snorting, she flipped through another set of pictures, swallowing the acid rising from her nauseated stomach. Her defense? That Walker Tatum had lived a privileged life, incapable of committing such appalling crimes. Shivering, she smacked the file closed and shoved back her chair. The clang of the metal edged back slamming against the particle board credenza gave her a laugh.
A tiny office in an ugly and bleak building, complete with cheap furniture. A salary that barely kept her bills paid. And working with some of the most horrific individuals anyone could stand facing. You bet her law degree from Emory University in Georgia was doing her a hell of a lot of good. Her mind was too muddled for this shit.
She grabbed her briefcase and keys, snagging her purse as she headed for the door to her office. After a glance back at her disheveled desk, she shook her head then turned out the light.
Hearing her office phone, she froze. A late night call didn’t necessarily mean there was an emergency, but she had no desire to find out for certain. Besides, everyone who was important had her cell phone number, including her boss. She took two steps out into the hall, hesitating as the phone kept ringing. And ringing. Why the hell wouldn’t it go to voice mail? Debating, she listened to three additional rings before storming toward her desk, almost yanking the entire phone onto the floor in her effort to answer.
“Reese Winton.”
There was no recording or voice on the other end of the line. There was no breathing or crackling from a bad connection. There was nothing but silence. Utter. Dead. Silence.
Slamming down the receiver quickly, she stuck her finger into her mouth, chewing on the tip and half expecting the ringing would start again. She waited for a full two minutes then issued a garbled and very nervous laugh. Just a robo-call like dozens she received at her house. Backing out of her office, this was the first time she actually wished she’d applied for a gun permit.
She was ready for a very tall drink and a nice soak in the tub. Turning out the main light on the floor, she decided on taking the stairs. The slight exercise might rid her mind of the vicious demon. Right. Demons had been with her for too many years. No chance of them scampering away now.
The moment she walked out into the parking lot, the sticky humidity created several beads of sweat on her upper lip. The early August heat had been oppressive as of late. And she thought moving to Missoula, Montana would mean cooler weather. Even the summer storms had increased. Another reason she was always on edge. Thunderstorms were a nasty reminder. She blew a swath of hot air, the action barely moving the strands of long hair that had fallen out of her carefully coifed bun. Even her silk blouse was sticking to her chest and arms, creating a blanket of intense heat.
A chuckle bubbled up from her throat as she hoisted her heavy briefcase to her other hand, fidgeting to wrap her fingers around the square plastic key fob. As usual, she was the last one to leave the office, or as she’d like to call the place, the dungeon. Well, at least she had a job. Finding one had been difficult enough.
Blink!
“Shit!” Stopping short, she twisted and looked back at the building. The bastard owner was always trying to cut costs, but turning off the outside lights? She made a mental note to make a formal complaint as she made a bee line for her car. The sound of her way-too high heels clipping against the asphalt was the only noise on the stifling night. Even the main street, which was only two blocks away, seemed deserted. Not that this section of Missoula hopped at night. Cheap and chichi was the name of Roger Gant and Associates.
Only the man couldn’t afford actual associates.
She awkwardly wiped a bead of sweat as it trickled down the side of her face, determined to keep her pace. You’re just jumpy. Nothing more. Keep walking.
Clink!
The sound was metallic, metal against metal and she froze, but only for a few seconds. She’d been down this road before, fear consuming every rational thought. Not tonight. She was through with vivid nightmares, swallowing up what she often considered to be the last of her rational mind. Peace. That’s all she wanted. Swallowing hard, she picked up her pace, pointing the key fob at her car. The blinking headlights gave her some comfort.
Clank!
Reese could swear she heard footsteps behind her. Her entire body began to shake but she kept her cool, taking long strides. Almost to the car. Almost.
Suddenly, high beam headlights were flipped on, the bluish blinding glow creating an arc all around her. She heard footsteps coming toward her at a brisk pace. “No! Get away from me!”
“Reese Winton.” The voice was masculine and demanding, deep and husky with an almost lurid drawl.
Refusing to stop, she raced the last few steps, trying to grab the handle just as the footsteps sounded closer, moving directly behind.
He is here!
“Miss Reese Winton. You’re under arrest.”
Panicking, she turned around to confront the would-be attacker, shielding her eyes from the wretched light. “Who are you?”
“Reese Winton. I’m placing you under arrest for hindering the prosecution.”
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Her fear combining with anger, she took a step back.
“Drop your things and place your hands behind your back.”
She refused to allow him to see how terrified she was. This couldn’t be happening. “And what if I don’t?”
“Then your punishment will be severe, young lady. I suggest you do as you’re told.”
Seeing the set of handcuffs in the man’s hand, she debated her options. There was no way she could run given his close proximity, no one to scream out to for help. She was his prisoner. “Are you going to read me my rights?”
“Absolutely. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can or will be used against you. You have the
right to an attorney.”
Dropping her things, she turned around, placing her hands behind her back. She was resigned to his authority. She bit back a moan, worried that someone might hear.
“Very good.”
Click!
Wincing the second the steel bands were snapped around her wrists, she had no concept of what she was facing. Anxiety rushed into every cell and she did everything in her power to maintain her composure. She was aware he’d grabbed her briefcase and purse before yanking her away from her car, heading in the direction of another vehicle. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you need to learn a lesson.”
His words were dominating, almost forceful and for a few seconds, she allowed the little girl inside to pant out of apprehension, even excitement. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He swung open a door, placing his hand on her head as he helped her ease onto the seat. When she was inside, he leaned down, his expression stern. Foreboding. “You defied orders. Again.”
“But I-” The door was slammed with enough force the sedan shook. Trembling, she shifted back and forth, wiggling her wrists. There was no way out of this. She was going to have to face her punishment like a good girl. Slumping against the seat, she wanted to ask questions, pry information out of her captor, but she realized he would remain silent, performing his duty as required. When he sped off, jerking the SUV around her Chevy Cruze, her single luxury, she cringed.
