by Lili Valente
Table of Contents
Title Page
All Rights Reserved
Dedication
ABOUT THE BOOK
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
Acknowledgements
About the Author
COMMANDING HER TRUST
CONTROLLING HER PLEASURE
Under His Command Trilogy: Part One
By Lili Valente
All Rights Reserved
Copyright Controlling Her Pleasure © 2015 Lili Valente
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. This erotic romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy hot, sexy, emotional novels featuring Dominant alpha males. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work. This book was previously published as Skin Deep by Anna J. Evans in 2009. It has been extensively revised and reworked before being re-released in serial romance format. Cover design by Violet Duke. Editorial services provided by Leone Editorial.
Dedicated to my D.O.M. who knows what that stands for.
Thank you for helping proof this novel, even though you
worried it might give you a heart attack.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Controlling Her Pleasure
Under His Command Book 1
* Warning: This book features a big, tattooed, Dominant alpha male—give him your trust and he’ll command your pleasure. All. Night. Long.*
Blake Roberts has everything he’s ever wanted—fame, money, and ownership of the hottest chain of tattoo parlors in the country. But he’s haunted by his first love, the matching tattoo they share a constant reminder of who he was before he learned how to control his emotions, his desire, and a woman’s pleasure.
He needs to purge her from his heart, and he’ll do whatever it takes to be free.
Erin Perry’s been burned by love and she’s not ready to put her body under a man’s control, let alone her heart. But then Blake shows up, the only man she ever truly loved. Blake is ruthlessly handsome, and seething commanding energy that has her aching to submit.
To be pleasured, tamed, owned, and put under His control.
Cliffhanger Alert: This steamy read ends in a cliffhanger. If you don't like being teased, steer clear. The entire UNDER HIS COMMAND series, Erin and Blake's complete love story, will publish in February and March of 2015.
PROLOGUE
Erin
She was nearly naked again, wearing nothing but tiny black panties, and his hands were everywhere but where she needed them to be. Calloused fingertips traced the column of her spine down to the small of her back, deliberately avoiding the aching place between her legs as he gripped her thighs and pulled them apart.
Wide.
Wider.
Strong hands circled her ankles with a careless ownership that made a soft moan escape her lips.
“See there, Erin. Aren’t you glad I caught you in time?” His voice was as rough as the rope he used to secure first one ankle and then the other to the bedpost behind her. As he worked, Erin could feel her mind softening, sinking into a pool of cool, clear water even as her body caught fire.
Descending into submissive space, into that place in her mind where nothing mattered but one man and what he would command her to do, had always reminded Erin of floating. Drifting into a delicious dream where pleasure and pain fused together, where mind and body finally made peace with one another.
Where her consciousness focused to a knifepoint and she finally felt completely alive.
Subbing was a better high than any drug and three times as addictive. It was like flying without any fear of the fall. At least not any fear until it was all over and it was too late to take back the parts of herself she’d given away.
“Tell me, Erin.” He’d finished with her ankles and was now hovering above her prone form, braced on the hands he’d placed at either side of her shoulders. He was close enough that she could feel his heat but not the comforting weight of his body and it was pure hell not to squirm beneath him, silently begging for what she craved.
His breath was warm against the back of her neck, his lips brushing lightly against the sensitive skin as he spoke. “Tell me what you want.”
Erin shivered, but not because of the cold. She’d grown accustomed to the chill in the cabin. Too bad she couldn’t grow accustomed to what this man did to her or control her body’s instinctive response to the Dominant he’d become.
Of course, even if he hadn’t grown into just the kind of man her twisted libido craved like an addict craves a fix, just the fact that he was Blake would have been enough. The familiar smell of his skin made her wetter than she’d been in years, the feel of his large hands moving to her wrists had her nipples drawn into tight, aching points, and the way he said “want” was nearly enough to make her come. Right then, without as much as a fingertip between her legs.
And he knew exactly what he was doing to her.
The bastard.
“Fuck you,” she whispered, the defiant words kicking her arousal into overdrive.
Unfortunately for her, the only thing more arousing than being obedient was being defiant. So she didn’t fight him as he checked the cuffs securing her to the headboard.
Fighting only fueled the fire.
“No more fucking,” he said, the surety in his voice underscored by the buzzing of the tattoo machine beside the bed. “No more distractions. We’re going to finish this, sweetness. Right now.”
Erin’s pulse pounded unhealthily in her ears and a cold sweat broke out between her shoulder blades as she realized a needle could be only a few inches away from her skin. It was sick, but even as her nerve endings sizzled with fear, her panties grew wetter.
“Tell me what you want, Erin,” he said, his deep voice vibrating through the cool air. “This is your last chance.”
But she didn’t say a word. She only pressed her face into the cool quilt and waited for the familiar sting.
Waited for Blake to mark her flesh the way he’d already marked her heart.
CHAPTER ONE
Twenty-four hours earlier
Blake
Did it still count as a kidnapping if she went with him willingly?
What if she wanted out of the car once she realized they weren’t stopping inside the Los Angeles city limits? If he refused to stop, would that decision automatically make him a felon?
Blake didn’t know. But he knew that, even at sixteen, Erin hadn’t been easily intimidated. He couldn’t imagine her sitting quietly beside him as he headed off into the middle of Bumfuck mountain country. No matter how physically
intimidating most of the population found Giant Blake Roberts of Vegas Ink, Erin would remember good old Blake from when they were kids. Back when he’d been a six-foot-two-inch beanpole with elbows bigger than his biceps who’d had his ass handed to him by their foster father on a weekly basis.
Erin would call his bluff. She would try to run, and if he didn’t want her leaping out of a moving vehicle to gain her freedom, he’d have to use the rope he’d packed in his trunk. Because she would do something like that. She’d always been wild, and from what he’d observed in the bar earlier tonight, she’d only gotten crazier with age.
Not that he was in a position to throw stones.
What he was planning was more than crazy. It was stupid, criminal, and could ruin the life he’d worked so hard to build. If he knew what was good for him, he’d start up his car and get the hell out of here right now.
Do not pass go, do not kidnap the only girl he’d ever loved, do not collect multiple felony charges.
“This is crazy. You realize that, right?” His best friend and business partner, Rafe, echoed Blake’s thoughts before taking a long pull on his flask. There was whiskey in there tonight, but Blake had decided to stick with a Coke while they staked out the staff parking lot of the bar from his car. No need to risk a DUI as well as abduction charges.
“You haven’t seen her in how long?” Rafe asked. “Six years?”
“Eight.”
Rafe exhaled, long and slow. “And she didn’t respond to any of your letters?”
His teeth ground together. “Nope.” Not with words anyway. Instead, she had ripped every letter into tiny pieces and mailed them back to his address in Vegas. She had responded, just not in a way that made him think she would be accommodating to what he wanted from her. What he needed from her whether she was willing to give it or not.
Blake wasn’t usually the type to take what he needed without permission, but for Erin, the girl who had broken his heart into a thousand razor-sharp pieces, he would make an exception.
Rafe grunted and took another swig from his flask. “But you still think it’s a good idea to show up where she works and ask her to go away for a long weekend so you can work on her tat?”
Blake nodded. “Yep.”
His friend laughed as he clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve lost it, man.”
If he only knew…
But Blake hadn’t told Rafe his real plans. No need to make his best friend an accessory to a felony and ruin two lives instead of one.
“Who knows? She might enjoy a little vacation,” Blake said, not believing the words even as he spoke them. “Or maybe I’ll be able to change her mind about the money. Fifteen grand isn’t chump change and she must need cash. Why else would she be working here?”
“Maybe she’s slumming.” Rafe shrugged as his dark eyes scanned the parking lot of the bar where they’d finally found Erin.
It wasn’t in a bad part of the greater Los Angeles area, but it was the raunchiest place still serving drinks in Pasadena. Most of the town had been converted into one big outdoor mall, purely PG stuff, but The Elbow Room had managed to stay open. Probably because it was the one place in the sleepy suburb where a man could still see some skin while he slammed back a few beers.
The oversize bar doubled as a stage for drunk college girls, looking to add their bras to the collection hanging from the ceiling, and the bartenders were scantily clad ex-porn stars from the Valley. They took turns dancing on the bar on nights when the coeds were hitting the books instead of the bars.
Except Erin. She wasn’t part of the porn scene. She was a lingerie model for the biggest fetish store in Los Angeles.
Or had been at one time. Blake hadn’t seen any new pictures of the stunning natural blonde with the big hazel eyes for nearly two years. Not that he was a glutton for punishment, who checked the Damned Naughty Lingerie website on a weekly basis…
God, what was he doing here? Obsessing over Erin’s picture on a website or writing her letters was one thing. But tracking her down in person with the intention of forcing her to take a trip up to the San Bernardino Mountains with him was certifiably insane.
Exactly. So get out of here. Now.
Before this woman ruins your life a second time.
“I don’t know, man. She’s not slum material,” Rafe said, his tone revealing his obvious appreciation for Erin “Angel” Perry. “It’s hard to believe this girl can’t get modeling work anymore. I checked out the site this morning. I’ve never seen real tits like that. No wonder you’re still hung up on—”
Blake silenced Rafe with a look. No one talked about Erin that way, even his best friend. It didn’t matter that she’d betrayed him and broken his heart back when he was a stupid kid. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone treating her like a piece of meat, even if he were planning to do nearly the same thing himself.
But then, he’d earned the right to teach Erin a thing or two about payback.
“Listen, Blake.” Rafe sobered, his features settling into a serious expression. “I know you’re a big boy and can take care of yourself, but this has bad idea written all over it.”
“Exactly, so get lost already,” Blake said. “Before you get too drunk to drive yourself back to the hotel.”
It was twenty minutes until The Elbow Room closed for the night. He had to get rid of Rafe before then.
Rafe sighed. “Well, if you ask me, you shouldn’t be wasting your time or your money on shit from the past. The future’s golden, brother.”
“I didn’t ask you. For your opinion or your company.” In fact, he’d done his best to ditch his friend, but the other man had insisted on accompanying him to L.A.
“Easy, killer.” Rafe lifted his arms at his sides. “All I’m saying is that we could be in Miami getting pussy right now instead of wasting time in smog city.” His Cuban accent colored the city’s name so it sounded like some exotic mecca. Which it was, in a way. At least for the two of them.
After three years as stars on the reality show Vegas Ink, they had quit the entertainment biz to go national with a string of tattoo parlors. The Vegas Ink locations in Reno and Vegas would stay open and be joined by new locations in Memphis, New Orleans, and Miami. Blake and Rafe were going to cash in on their celebrity status and cement their reputations as the best of the best, the people to trust when you were looking for more than your average ink, when you wanted certifiable body art.
“You’ve got a matching tattoo with the chick, Blake, and she managed to cash in on it. That doesn’t mean she’s got a piece of you.” Rafe barreled on, despite the warning look Blake shot in his direction. “You were young. You made a mistake and got burned. Who cares if—”
“I care.” Blake took another swig of his own drink, the warm, sickeningly sweet Coke as foul as his mood.
If he hadn’t already been determined to go through with his plan, what he’d observed tonight would have done the job. He’d only stepped into the bar for a few minutes, but it had been enough to see everything he needed to see.
Erin still had the tattoo he’d given her the night before his eighteenth birthday, peeking out from beneath her sleeveless white shirt. Not that it came as any surprise. She’d used the tat to make a name for herself and clearly hadn’t been impressed by Blake’s letters asking her to have the piece modified. After all, his work had been as responsible for her nickname as her angelic good looks.
The five-inch figure on her shoulder was the first of the angel tattoos Blake had later become famous for, an exact match to the wide-eyed fallen angel on his own forearm. It was the only one of his tattoos he hadn’t sketched himself and the last remaining example of his father’s work.
Adrian Roberts had never made a living or a name for himself before his death, but he’d been a real talent, a more gifted artist than Blake could ever dream of being. More than anything in the world, Blake wished he could go back to that night when he was ten years old and grab more than one of his father’s sketches before he ran fro
m their burning apartment. Maybe then he’d have more of his dad, the only real family he’d ever had, to hold on to and wouldn’t be so damned obsessed with this one tattoo.
Or with the girl he’d once loved enough to share a piece of his soul with her.
Your soul? It’s just skin. You should know that better than anyone.
Ah, but there was the kicker. He should know a lot of things.
But right now, all he knew was that he had to convince Erin to let him cover the tattoo, to rework it into something no longer recognizable as the same angel on his own arm.
It made him sick to know she still sported the profession of his adolescent love on her shoulder. Once the evidence of his foolish belief in soul mates was erased, Blake was certain he’d finally be able to let go of his obsession with his former flame and move on.
Cultures across the world recognized the mystical power of working permanent ink into human flesh. Blake had never been one to believe art was anything more than art, but he couldn’t deny the connection he felt with the only person in the world with whom he shared the exact same ink. A connection that had haunted him for eight long years as he tried to forget about their last night together and the promises they’d made. Promises Erin had broken as easily as she’d broken his heart.
Your broken soul, your broken heart. God. You’re right. You need to do whatever it takes to get this girl out of your system so you can stop being such a fucking pussy.
“Are you laughing?” Rafe asked, obviously as surprised by the phenomenon as Blake himself.
“Yeah.” He smiled and downed the last of his soda. “I was thinking about Delilah and her pussy lecture.”
“The one about the power of the pussy to give life and pleasure and how we shouldn’t use the sacred name of her vajayjay as an insult?” Rafe asked, his contempt for their Vegas office manager’s feminist rants clear in his voice, though his expression softened perceptibly.
