Taming the Brat
Diana Rose Wilson
Book 3 in Forbidden Secrets series. The books should be read in order for maximum pleasure.
Vanderbilt Charles is accustomed to getting her way through beauty and manipulation. She wants Ursa’s man, but he rebukes her. With her world completely out of balance, Vans accepts an invitation from a roughneck cowboy to attend a party. A sex party.
The Dragon awakens Vans to her true nature. The powerful man unravels her knotted desires with just the right serving of pain. He whips her bottom to bright-red welts and she begs for more. Her lust is as hot as her flesh as he lures her to submit. He introduces her to pony play, dressing her in leather straps, a chastity belt and anal plug, pushing her to ultimate pleasure. But the brat’s jealousy might ruin everything before she realizes the dominant man right in front of her is perfect.
Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!
A BDSM erotica story from Ellora’s Cave
Taming the Brat
Diana Rose Wilson
Dedication
To Joel, world’s best Brat Rehabilitator and wooden spoon wielder.
Prologue
November 12, 2015
Vanderbilt Charles was experiencing a first in her life—she was jealous. The emotion was unfamiliar to her and not one she was adequately prepared to handle. Ever since childhood she’d been the center of attention, with her bright golden hair and big brown eyes. Confident, vivacious, fearless and happy, Vans got what she wanted. Sure, it was mostly due to the grace of her charms but sometimes through her skills of manipulation.
Until now! Suddenly she was the one without a love life while her chubby, dumpy coworker managed to snag the prize of prizes. She wanted to be happy for Ursa but she only felt the green-eyed monster tearing at her soul.
Vans should be the one to have a guy like that. Handsome? Check. Educated? Check. Wealthy? Double-check. What did Ursa know about keeping a guy like that happy? Ursa didn’t know shit about fashion, style, social status or charm!
But damn if the woman wasn’t going through some radical butterfly transformation. Day by day Vans watched Ursa grow more and more beautiful, radiant and confident. And every moment Vans felt herself fading into the background!
This couldn’t be happening!
There was something fishy with that guy. He was way out of Ursa’s league. Clearly it couldn’t be natural. He must be using her friend. That was the only rational explanation. So Vans put her theory to the test. The guy had been picking up Ursa from work for the past few weeks so today she went out to have a few words with him.
She walked out to the parking lot where he stood at the passenger side of the car, dark eyes eagerly watching the back door. She felt a stab of irritation when his handsome smile faltered at seeing her. He gave a polite enough nod—sleek and elegant—then resumed his casual, leaning stance, waiting for fatty.
Vans knew she had better, bigger tits, a slim waist and she worked out for hours every day doing yoga and cardio to keep her tight, sweet ass. Men drooled for her ass and they begged for it.
Except for this guy, Leo Wolfe. Ursa’s…guy…who wasn’t even paying attention to Vans as she strutted over to him.
He looked fucking gorgeous. The type of man who should be on a yacht with a glass of Screaming Eagle in hand and a trophy wife on his arm. He checked his watch, the golden Rolex glinting as the suit sleeve slid up. It went with the black Bentley he lounged against. She could see the red leather interior past the door he had opened, ready for her coworker.
“Is Ursa on her way?” he asked, his voice a low, seductive rumble, his dark eyes curious as he regarded Vans.
The negligent glance preceding his question made her feel small and insignificant. As though he expected her to fetch Ursa. She felt heat drain from her face in shame. “She’s working right now. But I’m not. How about a little play? You and me.” She curled a lock of hair around her finger as she moved closer, rolling her hips. “I’m real good with my mouth.” She knew her legs were long and graceful, and she used them to the best of their ability, swishing her hips just so.
He started at the question and stood straighter. “I think you are mistaking my intentions with Ursa.”
“Oh, I’m not. You’re banging her, but we both know you can do better. You look good enough to eat. She’ll be awhile—”
“Aren’t you Ursa’s friend?” he asked, his dark features turning stormy.
“Sure. Friends. Friends share. Right?” Vans insisted, letting her eyes trail down his body.
He shuddered, but that wasn’t with pleasure. His deep-brown skin took on a tinge of gray. She’d never seen anyone look disgusted with her offer of sex before.
“I am not interested,” he said, voice flat. “Is this some joke? You’re kidding, right? Who do you think you are?”
“I…” She hesitated and found herself blinking in shock at the rebuff.
He’d rejected her!
She sucked her lip into her mouth, trying to regain her composure, and applied a different angle of the teasing. The seductive chewing at her lower lip always worked for her.
Except with Leo Wolfe. He shuddered with obvious revulsion again and motioned her away with a dismissive flick of his long fingers. “Go away. Let’s pretend you didn’t say anything to me.”
She felt a slap of shame followed by disgust with herself as his sympathetic gaze held hers. He dressed her down in that calculated look. It was as if he saw all the way inside her to her flaws.
She wrapped her arms over her chest and took a step back, eyes stinging. It simply wasn’t fair.
* * * * *
November 13, 2015
Staring at the latest delivery of roses, Vans felt the green-eyed monster rattle her ribs. Leo always sent Ursa flowers! Ursa never got them, of course, since Vans was the one the delivery guy wanted to flirt with. Dozens of long-stemmed, champagne-pink beauties. They were always delivered in tall crystal vases that must have cost more than she made in a week.
Vans lost her temper and threw them.
The vase shattered against the wall. The flowers and water flew everywhere with the impact. Some of her irritation faded as she tore the heads off the roses and crushed them under her shoes.
It should be her!
She should be the one with Prince Charming. She was the one going to the gym every day to work out, not Ursa! Ursa didn’t deserve any of this. He was way, way, way too good for her!
Ursa.
She was always kissing the boss’s ass. The woman was fixated on being an overachiever. Worse, yesterday Vans found a brochure for Mills College with Ursa’s name and classes selected for the winter semester. Obviously Ursa thought she was too good for the bookstore now. Ursa was leaving Vans behind. She and Vans had been friends since high school. Vans had always felt superior to her but now… She felt her throat and mouth go dry.
Vans was going to be the one to work at the bookstore forever. That wasn’t fair. She had to do something about it. Undermine Ursa’s plans and foil her perfect little setup. Pull her back down to the level she belonged!
The bottom!
“That’s an awfully big mess you’re making there, Missy,” a man’s voice drawled as he tipped his cowboy hat back, squinting from the mess of broken crystal and ruined petals to her face. His accent had a heavy Southern twang. “Damn shame. Who done you wrong, baby?”
“Fuck off, cowboy!” she spat, taking one last kick at the flowers. Her savage motion scattered the pink blooms.
“You have a dirty mouth on you.”
She offered out her middle f
ingers. Both of them. His face was dirty, his clothes covered in some horrible grime, but the azure of his eyes burned into hers as he looked from her fingers to her face. He looked out of place in downtown Oakland. As if he’d just rolled in from rounding up cattle and his horse had gone galloping off without him. “Get lost,” she growled at him.
Something dangerous gleamed in his gaze as he stared hard at her. She felt her heart hiccup in reaction. This guy might actually be someone unsavory. She whirled away and stomped back into the store through the back door and made sure it was double locked. She took several moments there in the hallway to gather her composure in silence. Way to go. Stir up trouble with some redneck while she was at work. As if she didn’t have enough on her plate already.
“Hey, Vans?” Ursa’s voice called from the storefront. “There’s a guy out here asking about you.” The chubby woman tipped her head to one side, curious. “That is, unless there’s another foul-mouthed, feisty blonde working here.”
“Oh shit. Is it a guy?”
“Isn’t it always?” Ursa laughed with a twinkle in her hazel eyes. The woman looked lovely today in some new outfit that complemented her curves, transforming her from cute to glamorous. Even her hair wasn’t the usual lank, muddy brown. The curls bounced with golden highlights around her shoulders. Vans felt a vindictive thrill, knowing she had destroyed her flowers. The wannabe didn’t deserve them.
“Fine. I’ll be right out.”
Ursa gave her a thoughtful look and then shrugged and returned to the storefront. The goody-goody was eager to get back to work. Always making Vans look bad.
Cowboy stood leaning against one of the book-lined display tables when she came into view, his face smeared with dirt and sweat and his eyes intense as he looked at her. He offered a tip of his hat to her.
“Can I help you with something?” Vans tried her best work-appropriate voice but she wasn’t really feeling it right now. The last thing she needed was this burly cowpoke to start in on her.
When he spoke, there was kindness in his tone. His words were low. “I’m not here to bust your chops, sweetheart. You just seemed real upset. Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be so mad.”
“I’m not a girl,” she said. “I’m fine.”
“Of course you’re a girl.” His eyes creased at the corners as he peered down her, lingering on her breasts, and then raked back up to her face. He let out a contented little sigh, eyes twinkling. When he grinned, his teeth looked very white against the dirty face. “What are you doing this weekend?”
“Are you hitting on me?” she asked, staring at him with his cool confidence. “Buddy, you are so not my type.”
He continued to grin and regarded himself, tapping the toe of his dirty boot on the floor before lifting his gaze back to her. “Hitting on you? I guess I am. What is your type? An older man with one foot in the grave, the other on a stack of slippery gold who is just waiting for your push into the coffin? Or are you more of a trophy bride, future-ex type? You look the sort who could be a bit of both.” His amusement didn’t change or fade and he didn’t back off.
The words stung. “Why do you say that?” she demanded, feeling her face heat.
“Saw the way you bashed those flowers around. They were not good enough for you. You were expecting something a lot better. You don’t look like a girl who wants a good boy. You look like you’re bored. Not challenged enough. Need something new in your life. Explore some limits?”
“With a cowboy? Man, you don’t know me.”
“I know your type. The way you look at me.” His hand rubbed over his jaw, his fingers dirty and knuckles raw from whatever work he’d been doing. “You’re judging me just like I’m judging you. He calls you princess? I think you need to be knocked off your high horse and put on your knees for a few days.” His full mouth twisted into a knowing smile.
“You read the card?” she gasped at him.
He shrugged up one shoulder. “You just left the mess out there. Of course I did. Looks like quite a few flower deliveries didn’t meet your high expectations.”
“You don’t know me,” Vans snapped, furious. And yet, even as he made the statement, her stomach curled with a clutch of desire. Did she want to be on her knees? Controlled?
A small, eager voice inside her whispered, yes!
“Ah, but I know enough. I guess I’ll take your rejection gracefully. Do enjoy your weekend, precious,” he said as though he could see into her future and witnessed the hours of frustration waiting for her at the gym and her empty apartment.
She no longer had Ursa to keep her amused. It wasn’t fair that Ursa wouldn’t offer Vans a shoulder to complain on. Vans was so used to her always being there. Now she was alone in her loveless future while Ursa enjoyed her ill-gotten prize.
The prize that should be Vans’s!
Cowboy drew away from her and walked toward the door. When he passed Ursa, he tipped his hat and grinned at the fat clerk and offered a wink. What in the fuck was going on with her life? Ursa was getting flirted with? Next thing Vans knew, the flower delivery guy would be trying to get into Fatty’s pants too.
Ursa gave her a curious look but Vans just smirked at her and gave a toss of her head, playing it off in her usual confident manner.
“He just tried to get my number.” And with that, Vans sauntered back to the office to avoid working until she could leave.
* * * * *
November 20, 2015
Vans had let things get out of hand.
A little at first with her desire to soothe her wounded ego, but the snowball effect of her jealous mind had slipped her control.
On Monday, Cowboy showed up around lunchtime and flirted with her in that arrogant, unflappable manner and he was just as filthy. He had more stubble on his jaw, glinting gold through the dirt and sweat.
Tuesday he was there again at the same time, casually flirting with her as though he were at home in the bookstore.
“What is it you do anyway?” Vans asked him as he followed her through the shelves.
“I tame wild horses,” he teased and flashed the Cheshire Cat grin of his sparkling teeth at her. Infuriating! “What do you do?”
“I shelf books and answer annoying questions from customers.”
“You’re so good at it,” he drawled in the smoky Southern accent.
She wished he weren’t such a dirt farmer! He wasn’t unforgivably unattractive or anything, but Vans couldn’t see past the filth to something worthwhile to look at. He had wit and humor certainly, and he might almost be tolerable if he were washed, deloused and disinfected. Tall, with a lean, powerful build, he had a square jaw and those brilliant-blue eyes. Then he opened his mouth and sounded like such a redneck.
“Come away with me this weekend,” he said out of nowhere, hovering close to her when she didn’t shove him away.
“I’m not really into horses,” she lied, not looking over. Memories of her old polo lessons tumbled into her head and she angrily shook them off.
“No? Are you quite sure?”
“Definitely sure,” she said, pushing books around on the shelf, refusing to look at him.
“You really won’t give a cowpoke like me a shot, huh, fancy pants?”
“Not when you smell like the back end of a bull. No.”
“I’m a hardworking man,” he said, tipping his hat back to look at her. “You might try it and find you like getting filthy with a good ol’ boy like me. All sweaty and dirty.” He poked out the tip of his tongue, pressing it against his upper lip through his big smile.
She glanced over at him and felt a strange tightening in her stomach. There was no way she should be getting turned on by this jackass but…fuck if he didn’t look like he would be good for some serious naughtiness.
“Come away with me this weekend,” he murmured to her, stepping closer into her personal space. He owned the space he took up, towering over her in the ugly plaid shirt. She didn’t push him away. “I’ll clean up. I swear, I’m
real nice under all this dirt.”
“Yeah, likely story. Modest too. You’re like a diamond in the rough or some bullshit like that?” She shoved a book onto the shelf, hard, struggling against the urge to be drawn into his strength. “Are you trying to get me out somewhere and rape me?”
“Oh I’m not like that, precious. This is a holiday party in Tahoe. Lots of snow and even more games. I don’t have a date. It’s really, really fancy. I guarantee you would enjoy it.”
“I bet you’re wrong,” she answered as she looked up at him. His teeth really were too white for a typical cowboy. “What do you do? Really.”
He shrugged. “I work hard and I play harder. If what I do matters that much, I guess you’re the right person to play with. Was I right about you looking for a sugar daddy?”
“Fuck you.”
He chuckled and bowed low to her before turning to saunter out. Again, he stopped by Ursa where the other woman was arranging a display and the two exchanged a few quiet words and smiles. The green-eyed beast in her heart thrashed and coiled violently.
Wednesday and Thursday were the same, almost. She might not have declined his invitation to leave town nearly as fast. On Thursday he was almost clean, and he smelled of warm leather rather than tar and oil. She found herself smiling when he sauntered in.
This time, he offered her an envelope. “If you want to join me, a limo will pick you up from here tomorrow night. No pressure. The driver will give you instructions for the weekend.”
“That sounds really sketchy,” she said, eying the envelope.
“It’s a sex party,” he whispered huskily. The way he watched her indicated he was measuring her response.
“I’m not a prostitute,” she answered, drawing back.
“I never said you were. I suspect that you’re a subby girl. Are you?”
She felt the blush heat her cheeks and sputtered like Ursa for a moment before scowling up at his warm smile.
“That’s a hit,” he murmured, slipping closer. He stroked her arm with the envelope. The scent of leather grew stronger as he bowed his head down to her. “I admit I am looking for a partner to have fun with. I’m looking for someone spirited and lively and who enjoys sex for the pleasure of sex. Do you know what pony play is?”
Taming the Brat (Forbidden Secrets) Page 1
