by Livia Grant
His smile turned to a grin. “You hit your first sub-space.”
“No way.”
“Way.” He grew more serious. “Are you feeling okay? You were out of it there for a while.”
She didn’t know how to describe how she felt. He took her silence as her wanting to leave and pushed to his feet. Looking around, she didn’t even know where they were. He’d taken her to a small room with a couple of couches and one padded table pushed into the corner.
“Why don’t you stay here and I’ll go collect your clothes. We can get you dressed and I’ll drop you off at your place to make sure you get home safe.”
His words filled her with panic. Gabriella hugged him tighter as if she could prevent him from leaving. Sliding her hand lower, she started stroking his hard-on through his slacks.
“Ella... this is a bad idea, baby.”
“No it’s not. It’s a great idea.” She’d never been so bold sexually before.
“You live in New York,” Connor protested, grasping at straws.
“I want to live in D.C.,” she reminded him.
His lips were sucking on her neck, surely leaving a hickey before he gave his next objection. “I’m ten years older than you.”
“Making you the experienced Dom I need to teach me all of the things I don’t know yet.” She’d been working on getting his pants unzipped. The second her hand wrapped around the velvet hardness of his erection, Connor growled as if he were in pain.
As she stroked his cock, he ground out his next objection. “But, you’re like a sister to me.”
It was her turn to laugh at him. “Sorry, but I call bullshit... Sir.”
“You’re a real brat, you know that?”
“Yep, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I’ll surely give you plenty of reasons to use all of those fancy implements you carry around in your duffle bag.”
She’d taunted him. Pushed him. Hell, she’d beg him if she had to, but she wanted him inside her.
Connor shot to his feet with her in his arms. He didn’t go far, rushing to the padded table only a few feet away, barely taking the time to lay her bare body out before he left her.
“Wait! Don’t go!”
He was back in just a few seconds with a sexy grin on his face. She heard the rip of foil just as he reassured her, “Not going anywhere, well except here...”
Connor plunged balls deep in one hard thrust. It had been months since she’d had sex, yet he’d primed her body all night. Her channel easily stretched to accommodate his girth.
He set a fast pace, pounding into her again and again. As wonderful as having him moving inside her felt, the room was too dim for her to see his smoky eyes. She felt cheated.
“Connor...” she called out to him, stretching her hand out to him.
He answered by scooping her into his arms as if she were weightless. He’d taken his shirt off and she almost came when he hugged her into his arms, her breasts enjoying their first skin-on-skin embrace.
Ella wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him inside her while he moved his hands to palm her tender ass. The pain of the implements he’d used was gone, but when he squeezed her bottom, it hurt oh-so-good.
He lifted her off his rod and then let go, letting gravity impale her again and again. Faster. Harder. Deeper. Until the only thing she could hear was the sound of their bodies slapping together as she rode his erection.
“Eyes, baby.”
She was already so close to coming, but the sight of Connor tipping into his own orgasm finally pushed her over the edge.
Ella collapsed into his arms, grateful he was able to carry her back to the padded table because she was suddenly exhausted. When he tried to release her, she clung to him, afraid to let this magical night end. They may have been paired by a game, but nothing about the last three hours felt like a game. These feelings she had... the electricity that they shared... it had to be real. It just had to be.
Insecurities crept in as she tried not to let him go.
“Ella, honey, let me grab a towel and then I’ll bring your clothes back to you.”
“I don’t want you to leave me yet.”
A strange voice startled her. “Congratulations on winning tonight.”
It was Jaxson Davidson and Chase Cartwright crowding into the entrance of the small room.
Jaxson continued on. “You know the old saying. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. The club is closing.” He glanced at Chase and for the briefest second, a small smile played at his lips. “I have a date with my lovers.”
She felt Connor slipping away from her, both physically and emotionally. It only made her cling to him that much harder.
Her Dom asked, “I don’t suppose you’d have a spare robe hanging around by chance, eh Jaxson?”
“Sure, go see Chad in the co-ed locker room. He can hook you up.”
“Sounds good. I don’t want to bother with Ella’s clothes tonight. I need to get her home.”
Her heart hurt. Their big night was over. He was in a hurry to get rid of her.
He paused before breaking into a grin. “Next time, you need to not wear the same lotion on your tits. I don’t like how it tastes.”
“Next time?” she asked hopefully.
“If you think I have the willpower to resist doing that again, you’re crazy.” The sinful smile he shot at her pierced deep, marking her. His lips crashed over hers in their first proper kiss. His tongue claimed her mouth just as his cock had done to her pussy minutes before, welding them back together again.
When he finally came up for air, he added, “I’ll let you have a nap when I get you home, but we have a lot more implements to try out on your sweet ass. Then once we get through those, I can’t wait to start your anal training.”
The End
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Livia Grant lives in Chicago with her husband and two sons... one a young man, the other a furry rescue dog named Max. She is blessed to have traveled extensively and as much as she loves to visit places around the globe, the Midwest and its changing seasons will always be home. Livia started writing when she felt like she finally had the life experience to write a riveting story that she hopes her readers won't be able to put down. Livia's fans appreciate her deep, character driven plots, often rooted in an ensemble cast where the friendships are as important as the romance... well, almost.
Livia’s Website: http://www.liviagrant.com/
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Forced
A Black Light: Roulette Redux NovellA
By
Renee Rose
Chapter 1
Mariana
My baby sister wants to be spanked by a man.
I’m still reeling. She pours more wine in my glass, as if that will make her revelation go down easier. I’m definitely having a hard time assimilating this new information. How did the blonde baby of the family—the one we worked our asses off to keep pure and innocent, the girl we sent to college and then grad school so she could have an important career that none of us even understand—end up on the wrong side of a flogger?
My brain can’t even compute.
We’re from the ‘hood, she and I. Not that she ever lets the grit of growing up in Brooklyn show on her. But in my mind, that means she should know if a man smacks her, she gives it back.
With brass knuckles.
Instead, she’s telling me this crazy plan of hers to offer her body up to sadists at a private BDSM club for their big Valentine’s event.
I tap my freshly manicured nails on her tiny kitchen table. “Thi
s isn’t going to happen.”
Sara’s forehead scrunches up as she frowns. “You don’t get to decide, Mari. I’m not asking your permission.” She lets out a frustrated huff. “I shouldn’t have even told you.”
“No, no, no, no. Just wait.” I wave my palms. Jesus, I suck at relating to my own sister as an adult. “I’m sorry. I’m just still trying to process the fact that my sweet and innocent sister is kinky. And an exhibitionist. But I’ll get used to it soon. So you’ve been on one—what do you call it?—Date?”
“Scene,” she fills in.
“Scene with a guy. And after just one experience, you think you’re ready to participate in a sex club swing party for people who like to give and receive pain?”
Sara’s lips tighten. “I told you, I’m not asking permission. You came to visit; I’m telling you why we won’t be spending Valentine’s eating truffles together and watching Fifty First Dates.”
I sure as hell wish she was telling me it’s because she’s met some smart guy who wears button-down shirts with a tie and loafers and wants to send their future kids to a private school.
Not this.
I rub my forehead. “I just don’t feel like it’s safe.”
“It’s totally safe. My play partner—the guy who brought me there last time—says they are extremely careful about who they let in and there’s security everywhere. I’ll have a safeword. All I have to do is say it and whatever’s happening stops.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m thinking”—I wave my hand in the air like all Italians do when talking—“emotionally. I don’t know. It sounds way too sketchy.”
Sara purses her lips with the stubborn look that used to drive me crazy when we were kids.
I don’t like this plan of hers at all. But what am I going to do? She’s a grown up. She can make her own decisions.
“Fine. You’re a big girl. But if you go, I’m going, too.”
I think she’s going to argue, but instead, Sara’s mouth flies open with a laugh.
“What?”
“Mariana, I don’t think it’s your kind of place.”
“What, you don’t think I can stand having my ass slapped?”
Sara raises an eyebrow. “No, I don’t. I think you’d turn around and deck the guy.”
My lips twist into a grin and then I laugh too. “Well, I can just go and watch.”
Sara shakes her head. “Uh uh. You have to be a member or brought by a sponsor unless you participate in the actual Roulette event.”
Fuck.
“Then I’ll participate.” I ignore the tightness between my ribs. My big sister instincts will not let me sit back and let this happen, even though I can tell Sara doesn’t want me there.
The smug amusement on her face throws me for a loop. “I’ll bet a hundred bucks you knee your partner in the balls within an hour.”
I spit my wine on a laugh. “Is that the bet? Because I have other means of defending myself besides the old nut-crack.”
She shakes her head. “No. A hundred bucks you can’t last through the night, period.”
“I get my ass beat three times and you give me one hundred bucks?”
I see annoyance war with amusement on Sara’s face.
“Listen, I’m not making fun of you,” I promise. “I just want to be there if you’re going. You know, sister solidarity.”
The smugness returns and she opens her laptop and brings up a form. “Okay, here’s the application.”
“Fine.” I make quick work of it until I get to the declaration of four hard limits—things I’m not willing to do with whichever guy ends up with me. I can only pick four. And fuck, there are definitely more than four I would rather not do. Blood play. Needle play. Water sports—I had to Google. And Ew. Anal intercourse with condom.
I also want to pick vaginal intercourse with condom, but I can’t, I’ve reached the max. Which means I could have sex with a stranger on Valentine’s Day.
It’s been a long time for me—way too long—but I never thought I’d end my dry streak this way. I can’t decide if I’m disgusted or excited about the prospect.
I hit the submit button and Sara refills my wine glass. “To sister solidarity.”
Her toast hits me right in the throat. This is why I came. Because in the process of losing myself running our parents’ restaurant for the past fourteen years, I also lost her. I blink away the sting under my eyelids and clink my wineglass to hers. “That’s right.”
Victor
The moment I see the brunette strutting my way, I end my call. She’s fucking gorgeous. Legs a mile long. Body like a weapon. Her coat is fitted, cinched tight at the waist with a belt and falling to mid-thigh. And underneath, all I see is sexy stockings. The kind with the seam that runs up the back.
But it’s not the looks. It’s the attitude. She clicks up in her designer heels and enough confidence to paint the whole fucking block. Some part of me I thought was dead sits up and screams, she’s mine.
But that’s stupid. I’m not doing mine anymore. Ever.
I’m not doing anything close to keeping a woman in my life. Not after the fucking bloodbath my love life took last year with Kim.
Still, this woman must’ve sensed my claim because she hesitates, flicks her gaze to where I’m holding up the wall outside the psychic shop, before I go in to get my rocks off with a maso in Black Light.
I’m not the kinda guy who hesitates. I see my opening and I take it. “Top or bottom?” First questions first.
She’s got domme written all over her, but I’m the farthest thing from a bottom ever made, so I can probably check her off right now and get back to horning on whichever helpless sub I draw tonight.
She stops, one corner of her mouth tilting up, all awareness and control. She actually brushes the lapel of my Italian suit with her manicured nails.
I grip her hips, seeing as how she touched me first. She stiffens, but doesn’t pull away, lifting her chin as if to show she’s not afraid of me. She gives a husky chuckle. “Bottom…I guess.” She has these lips. Fucking cupid’s bow perfection.
I can’t withhold my chuckle. “No, you’re not.” I’m dying to pull her in closer—find out how those curves soften against my larger frame. But I know that would be going too far. “You must be here because of a bet.”
It’s her turn to laugh—a burst of mirth that seems to surprise her. “What makes you say that?”
Now I do ease her forward, sliding my grip on her waist to palm her back with one hand.
She concedes a half step. We’re so close I can feel her body heat. Not quite touching, but almost there. “Baby, you don’t have a submissive bone in your body. How much do you have riding on this?”
She rewards me with a smile, and my inner Don Juan preens. “A hundred bucks.” There’s a challenge in her eyes as if she dares me to bet against her, too. Something I would never do. Not against this woman. She has it all going on.
I flick an appreciative brow. “I’m sure you’ll win it, then.”
Another smile and something in her posture softens, like she’s melting into me.
I still don’t dare pull her against my body, but I sure as hell want to.
“Maybe you’ll be my top.” She pops her lips on the ‘P’ in top and the sound goes straight to my dick. I decide right then to make it happen. I don’t know how, but I do know fate wouldn’t dangle a woman like this in front of me only to keep her out of reach.
She’ll be mine for the night, one way or another.
I use my hand at her back to pivot us away from the wall. “Come on, I’ll walk you in.”
She starts to let me lead, then stops. “I told my sister I’d meet her here.”
“There are two of you?” I must’ve sounded like I’d just won the lottery because her smile stretches wide.
“Oh no, there’s only one of me and one of her. We’re as different as night and day.”
I resume my position holding up the wall. “I’ll wait w
ith you, then. A man doesn’t leave a lady standing alone on a sidewalk at night.”
She gives my broad shoulders and chest a sweep of her eyes. “Are you gonna be my bodyguard?”
“Believe it, baby.” I wish I formed her security detail. Hell, I’d put all my best operatives on her, if only to keep her out of reach of every other man on the planet.
Something shimmers, hanging in the air between us. I can’t decide what it is—her appreciation, maybe, but then she puts her pouty lips together and I’m dismissed. “I can handle myself.”
“Oh, I have no doubt of that, beautiful. You have street smarts written all over you. Where are you from? New York? Philly?” I need to know more about her. I need to know everything about her.
“Brooklyn. Just visiting. My sister lives here.” She gives me another sweeping glance, this time speculative. “You?”
“What’s your guess?” I ask, because I have the sense she’s already decided things about me.
“You’re street smart, too. Jersey, maybe.”
“What gave me away?”
She turns, angling away from me, like she’s looking for her sister, but I know the drill. It’s the body language that says you’re not that important to me. You’ll have to try harder.
Challenge accepted.
“You look dangerous,” she admits after a moment.
“Is that a good thing or bad?”
She tilts her head to the side, eyes sliding over to me again, before looking back down the street. “If you wanted to date my sister? Bad.”
I can’t resist. I reach out and catch her elbow, drag her back in close, where I want her. She resists a bit for show, but I know she’d wrench out of my grasp if she wanted to. In fact, once she arrives in front of me, she leans in, like our bodies are magnetically drawn together.
“And if I wanted to date you?”
Her lids droop slightly, and I experience a surge of satisfaction. “I’m sure I could handle you,” she purrs.
Fuck, yeah. I’d let her handle me in all kinds of ways.
