He put his hand over her mouth. “Shh. No more.”
When she poked her tongue at his hand then closed her teeth over a fold of skin on his palm he addressed Q. “Get the ball gag please and wrist cuffs.”
Sabrina’s muffled shriek of protest made him smile and hug her to him as Q ran to the toy chest. “Naughty little sub.”
By the time Q had returned with ball gag and wrist cuffs in hand, he’d wrestled Sabrina to the floor into a kneeling position and had both her wrists in one hand and her nose to the carpet. Though he’d freed her mouth she did nothing except pant and strain at his grip.
He knelt beside her. “Do I have a second sub who likes wrestling?”
She whined and squirmed.
“Ah. I see I do. Do we need the gag?”
“I’ll be good, Sir.” Then she peeked out the corner of her eye. “No séance?”
“Let me think.” He ran his hand over her body while he did so. He didn’t really want to suppress Sabrina’s crazy way of looking at the world. “Here’s what we’ll do. Every time you have a séance or any other ghost-related activity, we get you as a pet for the night. Understood?”
By now she was squirming at his touch, but he kept her wrists tight under his hand. “Understood?”
She looked up at Q. “Help me?”
Q only laughed softly. “I don’t think so. The more séances the better, little girl, if we get a pet Sabrina as the result.”
Sabrina’s whimper was pitiful enough to make his balls tighten. There was something excruciatingly arousing about a woman giving in to the inevitable, to submitting.
Then she added, with her nose still an inch from the carpet, “This Tuesday, eight PM…and then three AM too if we get no spirits contacting us.” She swallowed. “And no butt plug tails.”
He found himself trembling, holding it in, his face contorted, but no use, he cracked up. He let her go and rolled onto the rug laughing in half-choked guffaws before he broke out howling. “Oh, god, Sabrina… That’s…”
They stared at him, shocked. Between Sabrina’s matter-of-fact negotiation, and their expressions, he fell apart laughing again.
“What?” she asked, completely dumbfounded.
He shook his head. “Nothing.” Gazing at them in awe, he wondered how he got so lucky. “I just love you. Both of you.”
A naughty smirk his only warning, they tackled him, knocking him down on his back. Warm bodies. Laughter. For once, he let them have it their way and they tumbled over him and pretended to hold him down with their weight. When they stopped wrestling, they lay with their heads on his chest, their hair spread across, tickling and soft on his skin. He patted their backsides and sighed. Luxurious. Feeling a woman’s ass must be the cure for all ills.
Sabrina shifted to look up at him, and waggled her eyebrows. “I thought you were tying me up and having your wicked way with me.”
“Uh-uh. Right now, I’m lying here staring at the ceiling.”
Q snorted derisively. “Lazy Dom.”
He smiled and squeezed them close. “Shh. As long as I’m with my two girls, I’m happy.”
As they snuggled into him, he sighed with contentment. No one had told him that sometimes in fairy tales the guy gets two princesses and the princesses are in love with each other and him. But if anyone came by to repossess their happily ever after, he hoped they had a safeword. Because no one should fuck with true love.
Acknowledgements
Cari, Sorcha, and Leia would like to give a special shout-out to their fabulous beta readers; MJ, Bianca Sarble, Casea Major, and Nerine Dorman.
Also, thank you to our fans who keep us going even on the hardest days. We couldn’t do this without you guys.
About the Authors
Sorcha Black
Sorcha writes fantasy about women who are too busy fighting, suffering, loving, and generally getting shit done to think of themselves as heroes.
In her real life, she is married to a lazy but well-loved man and has a shoe full of children. She does her best writing on scraps of paper at red lights.
Find her at: www.sorchablack.blogspot.com
Leia Shaw
Leia Shaw is the bestselling author of the paranormal romance series, Shadows of Destiny. Thinking up fae politics, plotting dragon power games, and calculating how fast werewolves can change forms has given her a way to express those dark places in her mind. More recently, she’s branched out into the erotic world and has written two humorous but heartwarming contemporary BDSM romances, 31 Flavors and The Dom with a Safeword.
Leia lives in New England with her husband and two kids. Though she will go to her grave denying it, her husband insists she would be thrilled if he suddenly sprouted fangs.
Find her at:
www.leiashaw.com
www.facebook.com/leiashaw
Twitter @LeiaShaw
Cari Silverwood
Cari Silverwood writes the way the world should be - dangerous and sexy with bullets piercing the darkness and lovers wrenched close by ropes. When you need escape, when you need that rough lover to bring you to your knees, here you will find stories to singe your fingers. The taste of adventure, the tang of BDSM, the burn of fantasy run wild. Brace yourselves, if you dare to read.
And...in this real world, she has a lovely family in Australia, with the prerequisite teenager who dwells in the dark bedroom catacombs…a husband who raises eyebrows when he catches glimpses of what she writes, and a furry menagerie of other animals barking, meowing, and swimming about the place.
Find her at: carisilverwood.com
Also by Leia Shaw and Cari Silverwood…
31 Flavors of Kink (a true BDSM story)
There are some things in life you have to try before you know how they will affect you. After five years of awful sex, I was ready. Bondage and spanking had always featured in my fantasies, and one day, I convinced my husband to try them. That day was a turning point.
Ice cream comes in many flavors and that's us too -- not vanilla, maybe not Rocky Road either. We can be a combination or make up our own and no one has the right to judge us. But there will always be one question that tears at my soul: Will my husband, Nick, ever be happy with what I crave?
“Come here.”
His voice, low and full of authority, slides through me like a cold shiver. My breath hitches as I glide silently over our office carpet.
“On your knees.”
I immediately drop. Acutely conscious of my nudity, I sit with my ass resting on my heels and my hands on the curve of my upper thighs.
“Do you know why you are being punished?”
A lump of anticipation lodges in my throat. I keep my eyes downcast and nod.
“Good. Now, I’m going to tie you to the desk, spank you, and stuff you with the vibrator. And you’re not to come without my permission, do you understand?”
My stomach lurches, and I’m soaked with arousal. I can’t trust my voice, so I nod again.
“Answer me.”
I clear my throat and croak a shaky, “Y-yes, sir.”
“Stand up and bend over the desk.”
My knees tremble. I can barely hold my weight as I walk to the desk. A thin rope dangles from his hands. I dare to look in his eyes. They remain impassive, foreboding. I’m a prisoner in the shadow of my executioner. Can I do this?
His brows rise a fraction of an inch. “Go on.”
I steel myself and bend over the desk. The glass top is like ice on my naked breasts. My breath quickens as he coolly and effectively ties my ankles to the desk legs, then my wrists behind my back. I twist my hands, checking the tightness. No give, at all. Suddenly I feel vulnerable. Too open, too exposed.
I notice the wooden paddle on the desk only when he reaches for it. I gasp. From fear or anticipation, I’m not sure. He moves away so I can no longer see him.
From behind me, I hear, “Count, Sidney.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, and the paddle whistles through the air –
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I wake with a start, flushed and wet. A dream. I exhale a deep breath, then slam my hand on the Snooze button. Nick stirs beside me, his body heating me through the blankets. My dream comes back full force, an assault on my already overeager libido.
Nick. His eyes stern, his lips turned down in a disapproving frown. The rope, the paddle… Oh. I can’t stop a sharp inhalation.
The idea is laughable. Nick wielding a paddle? He’s more likely to cross-dress and pierce his nipples than mercilessly paddle my ass. Nick is the nicest man I’ve ever met. It’s why I married him.
I sigh in frustration and push my fantasies away. The dog jumps at the door. Nick rolls over. His voice is groggy. “Honey. The dog wants to go out.”
“I know.”
Welcome to real life.
Have you read Carrie Ann Ryan’s paranormal ménage Trinity Bound, part of her Redwood Pack series? Here’s a snippet, just for you!
Chapter 1
Cold spread from a pinprick of sensation as a droplet of water hit Hannah Lewis’s cheek. It trailed down to her eye, forcing her to open them to blink it away. Stone walls surrounded her, and the frayed edges on the cement floor dug into her skin. The only means of escape seemed to be a lone rusty metal door in the stone wall. No windows illuminated the room. Cut off from the outside world, she couldn’t feel the earth.
As an earth witch, she needed the sensation of soil beneath her feet, the air dancing across her face and through her hair. But cut off, she drifted without an anchor. Hannah slowly sat up, and her muscles ached from her stay.
She snorted. Stay. Right.
That sounded like she was happy to be here. No, the bruises and cuts from her captivity hurt. But she thanked the goddess she wasn’t hurt any more than she was.
The man sharing her room moaned in his sleep. No, not a man, a werewolf. By the shouts of their captors, she knew him to be Reed, a wolf of the Redwood Pack, son of the Alpha. They’d brought him in three nights before. At least she thought it was three nights. She couldn’t be sure anymore. He seemed to hurt more than she. They had chained him to the wall, same as her, but far enough apart they couldn’t touch. And if they were to speak to each other, the guards came in and beat Reed. Never her though. It was almost like a cruel joke to have someone share her burden but be allowed no contact. Her gut twisted, and bile filled her mouth.
Her fingers ached to touch his smooth skin and heal his pains as the healer she was. But she couldn’t get close enough to him to do so. Another cruelty. She couldn’t bear to see him hurt.
Reed shifted, then snapped open his eyes. She gave him an encouraging smile, the best she could come up with under these conditions. He smiled back, that small gesture almost lighting up his face. Maybe in another time, another place, when they weren’t being held in the Central’s basement, with no clue whether they would live or die, they would have met and gone on a date. She smiled again at the thought. Yes, that would have been nice. Her smiled faded. But that was not the case. And by the looks of this place, it would never be. Sadness filled her at the loss of something she didn’t know she wanted.
Reed reached out and spread his fingers toward her, careful of the cameras watching their every move. Hannah did the same, longing to feel contact. To remember who she was.
The metal door scraped open, the screeching sound echoing in the dank room. They both pulled their arms back as she began to shake in fear. She cursed herself for her cowardliness. But it had been too long since she held hope. She didn’t want to die. Not here. Not now.
The Central Alpha’s son, Corbin, walked into the room with his smooth glide and a snarl on his lips. Hannah hid the shudders fighting to rack her body at the sight of him. His eyes were dark orbs with no light of goodness hiding within. Whatever was on his mind reeked of evil, an evil she wanted no part of, but it looked as though she had no choice.
The man strode to her, nodding to his two accompanying guards. The guards walked toward her and unshackled her arms and legs. Pain tingled in her fingers and toes as the blood rushed through them from being cut off from good circulation for so long. Oh goddess. What is he going to do with me? The guards lifted her to her feet, their grips digging into her arms, hurting her further.
“Let go of her. Take me,” Reed’s growled from his place on the floor, his voice gravelly.
Oh, how she wished she could just be with this stranger and not go where Corbin wanted. But she couldn’t let him be hurt either. She didn’t know why, other than the fact she hated to see anyone harmed. It pained her to think about him in her position. He might be a werewolf and be able to heal at a faster rate, but she could take what Corbin brought. She had to.
Corbin laughed at Reed and took a previously unseen whip to her companion’s back. Reed groaned in pain at the contact of the whip flaying his flesh. Hannah whimpered at the sight of his blood leaking to the floor. The guards pulled her toward Corbin, her feet trailing the ground as she fought their hold. They merely shook her violently for her to comply. The Alpha’s son grabbed her from them and forced her against him. Bile rose in her throat at the oily feel of his skin, his aura.
She looked back over her shoulder at Reed. He lay bleeding, glaring at the guards and Corbin, still struggling against his chains to reach her. Why did she feel such a connection to a man she’d never met outside these stone walls? And, by the look on Reed’s face, he might feel the same. Corbin dug his fingers into her arm and shook her, forcing her back to her cold reality.
As the man pulled her to the door, she fought against his hold. His hand came across her face, the sting radiating in her cheek, bringing tears to her eyes. Reed’s shouts and pleas followed her out the door until the men closed it with a slam, along with the hope she would get out of this alive. A sinking feeling bottomed out in her stomach. This might be the end.
Corbin dragged her down the hall, and she pulled against at his grip, struggling to get free. She screamed at the guards for help. Surely, there was at least one person out there who could help her. Dear goddess. Her captor’s hand, again, contacted her face, bringing stars to her eyes and a thin warm trickle of what must be blood down her chin.
At the end of the hall, a door with natural light spilling out along the cracks on the side and bottom, tingled that last spark of hope. Could she escape? She fought to release herself from Corbin’s hold. If she got out, she could get help and come back for Reed. She didn’t know when she’d started to think of not only herself, but Reed, but she didn’t care. Her foot came down on Corbin’s instep. She used the surprise to kick him in the groin and twisted free. The evil man yelled, as she ran toward the light. She panted and prayed she could make it. Corbin’s hand shot out and grabbed her again. The spark of hope dulled to a slight numbing light. He took her arm in an unforgiving grip and threw her against the wall. Her head cracked against the stone, but she was thankful he hadn’t used the whole of his strength.
“Don’t you fucking try that again, girl. Or I won’t kill you when I’m done with you,” he snarled. His torment promised pain and suffering if the reward was death. She held onto the whimper that threatened to escape her throat. She refused to give him the satisfaction.
Corbin lifted her up and carried her to another room off the hall. Before she could pull her mind out of the fuzziness caused by his strikes, he had her strapped down onto a cool metal table, the leather straps digging into her arms and legs and around her stomach. He tightened the straps with a bruising force. The one on her stomach cut into her skin, a thin line of blood forming.
Oh goddess.
Fear crawled on her skin like thousands of tiny bugs searching for a home.
What was he going to do?
Hannah took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. If she panicked and lost her focus, she might lose a chance of escape. She almost laughed at that. Escape? She wasn’t some alpha heroine in a romance novel. No, she was just a witch who needed her earth and missed a guy who shared a cell wit
h her. She must be crazy.
The strong scent of lemony citrus invaded her nose when she inhaled again. She almost coughed at the pungent aroma. She looked around at the sickly sterile environment and shivered at the cold practicality of Corbin’s torture chamber. The scent was harsh to her senses. Though not as strong as a werewolf’s, her sense of smell was more attentive than a normal human’s.
Corbin moved above her, blocking her view of the room, a gleeful look in his eyes. Like a kid on Christmas morning waiting to open his enormous amounts of presents and stocking stuffers. She swallowed down the vomit threatening to rise. This was going to hurt. Badly.
The evil wolf carried a cat-o’-nine tails in one hand and a whip in another.
He never stopped smiling as he hit her five times with the tails then five times with the whip. She cried out with each hit, each stroke. She might have been strong in some respects, but the blinding pain racking her body and her blood soaking the floor was too much for her to handle. Tears leaked from her eyes as he hit and hit.
“Tell me, Hannah, what is your power? Why are you so damn important?” Corbin sneered the words, looking engrossed in his flaying.
Powers? That was what this was all about? She was just an earth witch, a rare one due to her healing. But that couldn’t be what he wanted. Right?
Corbin hit her again, her vision going black, as the door opened. Hector, the Alpha, Corbin’s father, walked in.
“Enough, Corbin.” Hector’s voice radiated power and demanded respect.
Corbin stopped but looked like he was about to revolt. He took a deep breath, glared at Hannah, and then painstakingly placed the tools of his trade on their bench. With one last smirk in her direction, he stomped away like an insolent puppy.
Hector stepped purposely toward her.
She braced for his fist or hand, too pained to do anything but take it.
The Dom with a Safeword (Badass Brats #1) Page 29
