Sweet Seduction

by Anthology

I couldn’t quite hold back the squeak that emanated from my throat at those words. Jake had had me do enough research that I knew what corporeal punishment could mean—anything from spanking to something that could hurt far, far worse—but being here, in a room that Jake used just to play, gave an immediacy to the term that had my blood surging through my veins.

  “What are you going to do?” I could hear the tremble in my own voice, and tried to steel myself.

  I felt him fist a hand in my hair, and I cried out when he tugged, the sting echoing throughout the rest of my body.

  “If you can’t keep quiet, maybe I’ll have to give your mouth something else to do.” Sliding his fingers from my hair, he moved to stand at my front. I opened my mouth to give a clever retort, but the sight of him had my throat going dry.

  Jake was tall, but with me on my knees he seemed even taller. His chest was bare, allowing my eyes access to all of the wicked planes of his muscles. The lights in his playroom were tinted red, casting a crimson halo around him, making him look like a fallen angel or other unworldly creature here just to drive me crazy.

  His eyes glinted with dark intent as he slowly, deliberately slid his hands to his waistband. My own stare followed as if magnetized, pulled along in his wake. And in a way, it was—the very parameters of what we were doing meant that what I did was reactionary to him. I gave him control, and in return, he would give me what I needed.

  “You’re thinking too much.” There, there was just a glimmer of the familiar Jake in his smirk. And then he undid the zipper of his worn jeans, revealing only skin and a thatch of golden hair. I’d seen this before, a month ago when we’d finally come together, but in this setting, it was new and arousing.

  “You like my brain.” The retort slipped from my lips before I could think it through, and then I winced—I’d watched Fifty Shades of Grey.

  This was going to earn me a spanking. Or something worse.

  “I love it when you play right into my hands, Lizzie.” Jake grinned down at me. I caught a glimpse of him as he pulled his fully erect cock from his pants with lean fingers, and a frisson of excitement shot through me moments before he tapped the velvety head against my lips. “Open up.”

  I did—to tell him not to call me Lizzie—and he used the opportunity to settle himself on my tongue. I hummed around him with irritation, but as the musk and salt of his flavor settled onto my tongue I felt heat flooding between my thighs.

  I might protest, but he was right—this was what I wanted, to be taken out of my own head and into a place where I didn’t have to think at all. Closing my eyes, I let myself melt into the moment.

  “Open your eyes.” Jake pushed forward with his hips. “I want you to look into my eyes. I want you to know who is marking you.”

  Oh, man. I’d never even imagined how sexy it could be, those dirty words falling from him mouth. I obeyed, because I was already understanding that everything he did to me, even if it was something I didn’t really want to do, was mean to lead me further into the dark garden of letting go.

  “Good girl.” He pulled back gently, then worked his way forward again, his movements slow but certain. I knew that unless I used my safe word, he would push me right to my limits, the edge of discomfort, and then beyond.

  “Liz, I wish you knew what it does to me, seeing you like this.” There was a tremor in his voice as he slid in and out, in and out, and it undid me. “I’ve wanted this for so long. I can’t even believe that we’re finally here, like this.”

  I wanted to speak, to tell him how much this meant to me too, but then he was speeding up. I had to focus on the accelerated pace, on keeping my throat relaxed, but as he began to lose himself in his pleasure, I found myself falling too. This—this was what I’d been searching for. Giving pleasure was what gave me pleasure, and it seemed just too perfect that Jake was the one who had sensed that all along.

  “You’ll get yours, Liz. I promise you that.” The timing of his thrusts sped up, and I moaned around him as his length slid deeper and deeper into my throat. “And in the future, I will always see to your needs first. But right now--- this has been years in the making. I need to mark you. I need to make you mine.”

  My heart swelled and pressed against the confines of my rib cage even as he thrust one last time, reaching the slender column of my throat, spilling liquid heat inside of me. It heated me from the inside out, and I felt a surge of my own pleasure spill over without any other stimulus at all.

  This… this was where we had been headed, right from the very moment we met. Not quite two halves of one whole, more like a yin and a yang… a perfect complement.

  “Mine.” He murmured as I swallowed, the first burst of pleasure not soothing and instead making me want more, more, more. I looked up at him with wide eyes, and though my mouth was full and I couldn’t speak, I saw exactly what I felt, reflected there in his eyes.

  To other people, Jake was simply a billionaire bachelor. A playboy. A meal ticket.

  To me?

  He was just mine.

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  LOVE ME IF YOU DARE: EXCERPT

  KAYLEE

  “Uh-oh.”

  I had been swaying to a song by Bruno Mars, my arms in the air, when Caroline’s voice filtered through. Opening my eyes, I saw her looking over my shoulder with apprehension.

  A big hand was on my shoulder before I could ask her what was wrong. That hand pulled me, spinning me around on my heels. With three vodka sevens in me, I lost my balance, falling against the rock solid chest of the guy who had grabbed me.

  The scent of soap and something that was uniquely him combined in my nose and told me who it was before my eyes actually took him in. My pulse quickened, my heart beginning to beat double time, as I looked up and my vision confirmed what I’d already known.

  Thick, dark gold hair that stood up in spikes all over his head. Eyes that couldn’t quite decide if they were hazel or green. Chiseled features that were normally set in inscrutable lines.

  I must have surprised him, because right now he looked like he’d seen a ghost. His hands ran up and down my arms, feeling the flesh as if he wasn’t sure I was real, and I shivered under the touch.

  Could it really be that he wasn’t appalled to find me back in town? The sparks that I’d spent my time at college trying to dampen flickered, then burst back into the roaring fire that I’d always felt around him.

  “Ella?” Those ever changing eyes narrowed and he cocked his head. I sucked in a breath when he used my sister’s name. I saw the second that he realized his mistake, but by then the pain had sliced through my veins.

  “Out of everyone,” I started, my voice shaking as I stepped away from his touch. “Out of everyone who knew us both, I thought you would be able to tell us apart.”

  Emotion that I couldn’t quite identify flickered over his face. I didn’t stick around to figure out what it was. Spinning, I shoved through the crowd of people, stumbling on the shoes that suddenly made my feet ache.

  The combination of too much vodka, emotions running high, and the shock of seeing him again made me nauseous. I thought I might puke.

  The downstairs bathroom had a line that snaked down the hall.

  I’d only been here a few times, several years ago, but I remembered there was a small bathroom off the bedroom upstairs. I knew Caroline wouldn’t care if I used it, so I kicked off my shoes and, picking them up, hurried up the cheaply tiled stairs.

  “Shit.” Clasping the edges of the porcelain sink in my hands, I bent over the basin and sucked in deep mouthfuls of air. My heart was thundering in my chest, adding to the sick sensation that threatened to smother me.

  Dylan McKay had looked at me and seen the ghost of my dead twin. What he didn’t know was that he was my ghost, the mistake that would never stop haunting me.

  The mistake that didn’t ease the want.

  Bracing my weight o
n the sink, I looked into the mirror, cringing at what I saw. Sweat had melted away my makeup, the charcoal around my eyes smeared in a way that made me look manic. The shock of seeing Dylan had made me pale and sickly.

  No wonder he’d confused me for my sister. Still, after what had happened between us, I’d expected... well, I wasn’t sure what I’d expected from Dylan.

  More, I guess. Or else nothing at all.

  Sighing, I splashed cold water on my face, then scrubbed with a paper towel. With my skin naked, I looked more like the Kaylee that the people of this town knew and remembered.

  Maybe that was who I was destined to be. No matter how I fought it, it seemed like I couldn’t ever escape the past.

  Finger combing my messy, sweat dampened curls, I pulled them back in a ponytail with an elastic band that I found in the top drawer of the vanity. With it the transformation was complete, even though I still wore the siren red dress.

  I was Kaylee Sawyer, the girl who had always stood in the shadow of her twin, the girl who had made a tragedy happen by not being content with staying in the shadows.

  The reminder pressed down on me, and for an unhappy moment I considered calling Joel. I couldn’t tell him about Dylan, oh hell no, but he’d try to cheer me up just because I was hurting.

  I dismissed the thought as soon as I had it. I had to stop reaching out to him like he was my boyfriend, unless I was actually prepared to give him that commitment.

  If I hadn’t already known that I wasn’t, the mess that Dylan had made of my heart in the two minutes I’d seen him would have spelled it out.

  “Get me out of here.” I shuddered, reaching for the door. I half meant the party, and half meant my home town in general.

  The hair on the back of my neck rose as I left the bathroom. It gave me enough of a split second warning that I didn’t jolt when I found Dylan standing just inside the entrance to the small bedroom.

  His arms were crossed over his muscular chest, and his expression was stern. He seemed to fill the entire room, just by standing in it, something that I remembered well.

  Dylan had always seemed larger than life. Just like Ella.

  “What do you want?” My voice was sharp, even waspish, as I halted just outside the bathroom. I curled my toes into the floor, concentrating on how the short carpeting prickled the bare soles of my feet.

  I didn’t care that I was being short. What did it matter, after all? Dylan had been Ella’s friend, not mine.

  “I’m sorry.” There didn’t seem to be a whole lot of emotion behind his words, but that was just Dylan. Stoic. A rock.

  Not expressing how he felt didn’t mean that he didn’t feel it.

  “It’s fine.” It wasn’t—of course it wasn’t. But all of the emotions that had been pushing at me all day had scrubbed my heart raw, and I couldn’t handle the thought of a confrontation. Not that I’d ever been any good at them.

  “When did you get back?” Though his face remained nearly expressionless, those eyes raked over me.

  I wished I didn’t still feel the tug between us.

  “Today.” My voice sounded rusty, as if I hadn’t used it for a very long time. “I’m just here for the summer.” Next year I’d have to be extra diligent to find a job before school was done, so that I could avoid ever setting foot in Fish Lake, Oregon again.

  There was a pause, and I stared at the toes that I was still curling into the carpet.

  “How’s your mom?” He asked. As I sank my teeth into my lower lip, I told myself that he couldn’t possibly care, but I knew that wasn’t true.

  Dylan had always seen too much, and he’d practically lived at our house during the time when my mom’s drinking had gotten worse.

  He knew what she was like now, I was sure of it. If I let him in too close, he would see what I was like too.

  Silently, I raised my stare and looked him over. His hair was that same thick golden mess that made my fingers itch to touch. He’d put a couple of inches on his already impressive six feet in the last few years, and the rangy muscle that I remembered had thickened. A hint of something sexy and smoky had replaced the notes of engine grease that had once layered into his addictive smell. The tattoo that peeked out the sleeve of his dark gray t-shirt was new. It looked like some kind of bird, though it was half covered up and I couldn’t quite tell.

  I was entranced by it. I wanted to touch it, wanted to show him that I had one too. God, I’d wanted him for so long. Sometimes it felt like forever.

  But he’d been Ella’s. Though I’d wanted so badly to believe differently, that meant that he couldn’t ever be mine.

  “It’s good to see you, Kaylee.”

  I stared at him, shocked by his words, to find the eyes in that inscrutable face raking over me hungrily. Against my better judgment, I felt myself respond, felt the heat begin to grow in my core.

  I’d thought that the consequences of the one time I’d given in had dampened any actual urges that I had to act on my desire.

  I was wrong.

  “I’ve missed you.” His voice was quiet. As he unfolded his arms and stepped toward me panic flared brightly, and my thoughts swirled.

  I wanted so badly to take his words at face value. But I couldn’t stop the memory of his face, of the accusation in his eyes, when I’d told him what had happened to Ella. When I’d told him why it had happened.

  He blamed me. Of course he did. I blamed myself.

  There was no way he was happy to see me. Which meant that when he looked at me, he saw someone else.

  “Are you actually happy to see me, Dylan?” The words were hard to force out of my dry throat. I felt like I should cry, but I was suddenly just too tired. “Or are you seeing her?”

  He stared at me as if I’d struck him. I stared back.

  Seeing Dylan was a reminder. I wasn’t the same as I’d once been. I wasn’t going to go fade into a corner.

  I just wasn’t that girl anymore.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice was suddenly raw, and in that moment I could see my own grief over Ella, reflected back at me.

  He took another step toward me. I wanted to fling myself into his arms, to give in to the need that had haunted my every step while I was away.

  Instead I did what good Kaylee would have done. I pushed away from the siren call of his embrace, and I ran.

  Love Me If You Dare, available now!

  About the author

  Lauren Hawkeye/ Lauren Jameson never imagined that she'd wind up telling stories for a living... though when she looks back, it's easy to see that she's the only one who is surprised. Always "the kid who read all the time", Lauren made up stories about her favorite characters once she'd finished a book... and once spent an entire year narrating her own life internally. No, really. But where she was just plain odd before publication, now she can at least claim to have an artistic temperament.

  Lauren lives in the Rocky Mountains of Alberta, Canada with her husband, toddler, pit bull and idiot cat, though they do not live in an igloo, nor do they drive a dogsled. In her nonexistent spare time Lauren can be found knitting (her husband claims that her snobby yarn collection is exorbitant), reading anything she can get her hands on, or sweating her way through spin class. She loves to hear from her readers! You can contact Lauren through her website, www.laurenhawkeye.com or on Twitter @LaurenHJameson. And if you like chance at getting advanced copies of books, are interested in reviewing, or just want to chatter about hot men and interesting things, make sure to join the Reader Group that Lauren shares with the amazing Suzanne Rock on Facebook, Lauren Lovelies/ Suzanne and Ava’s Awesome Readers.

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  Thank you so much for contributing to a cure for diabetes by purchasing this book!

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  Sticky

  by

  Nina Lane

  © 2015 Snow Queen Publishing

  *

  To love is to lose control.

  —Paulo Coelho

  CHAPTER ONE

  Fucking PTO meetings. They drove me crazy. The Parent-Teacher Organization of the Sweetwater school district was filled with elitist mothers who drove BMWs, took yoga, employed housekeepers, and weaseled their kids into programs for the academically gifted. The mothers were sweetly bitchy and obsessed with their children’s progress, which made them pit vipers at the PTO meetings.

  I knew because I was one of them. In fact, I was the PTO president.

  “I should be back by nine.” I peered at myself in the hallway mirror and took a tube of lipstick from my Coach handbag. “Take the casserole out of the oven in fifteen minutes.”

  My husband Richard grunted in assent. I slanted a glance at him. He was lounging in his recliner with a glass of scotch. At forty-five, he was still good-looking, but over the years whatever romantic connection we’d once shared had flat-lined into a routine of dull tedium. Richard sat in that chair every evening after work, more interested in TV than in his wife.

  I applied lipstick and fluffed my shoulder-length blond hair around my shoulders. It wasn’t my fault, I thought, as I studied my reflection in the mirror. My daily workouts had given me a tight, firm body, and frequent trips to the beauty parlor and spa kept my hair soft and my skin supple.

  I looked damn good for a forty-year-old mother of two. Even after seventeen years of marriage, my husband should notice that.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t. Even worse, he’d been taking me for granted for too long now, just expecting that I’d keep the house in perfect condition, care for the children, and have a delicious dinner on the table when he got home from work.