Naked Nights

by Vonna Harper

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  Naked Nights

  ISBN # 978-1-78651-108-9

  ©Copyright Vonna Harper 2016

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright November 2016

  Edited by Sue Meadows

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2016 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Melting and a Sexometer of 3.

  Carnal Secrets

  NAKED NIGHTS

  Vonna Harper

  Book one in the Carnal Secrets series

  Freedom is everything to jockey Marina until an emotionally scarred man kidnaps her. His goal—to dominate his captive in all ways.

  Submit to a man? Never. Or so jockey Marina believes until the day former football player Tray kidnaps her and takes her to a Carnal BDSM training facility. No longer free, she must bow to Tray’s determination, strength, and powerful personality. Must accept the harsh yet arousing training regimen designed to turn her into a true submissive.

  Tray spent years being viewed as a piece of valuable meat. Now it’s his turn to dominate. Teaching the lovely trainee to embrace a new way of life excites and challenges him. He will change her! Make her his.

  They begin as strangers, one dominant, the other a naked captive. Will Marina continue to see Tray as her captor or will he become something more—something that transforms both of them?

  Dedication

  To every writer who has ever found the courage to reveal the deepest parts of themselves.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Taser: Taser International

  Facebook: Facebook Inc.

  Chapter One

  “She won’t stand a chance against you, not with you weighing so much more than she does.”

  Tray Nix didn’t need to be told that. After all, he’d yet to come across a woman who could hold her own against him. The same could be said for ninety-nine percent of the male population. Even though his pro football years were behind him, he still competed in weightlifting events. Just the width of his shoulders was enough to convince most people not to confront him.

  “I can see why they arranged to have Carnal harvest her,” his companion continued as they waited for the next Copper County race to begin. “The bitch is making fools of the male jockeys here.”

  By ‘they’, Carnal Incorporated executive Robert Smith was referring to several heavy betters who couldn’t bring themselves to back a female jockey. To them, horse racing was a boys’ club. Women could sit in the stands like he and Robert were doing. They could even own horses and work as trainers. However, pitting their racing skills against men, even if the men barely topped one hundred pounds, went against everything their betters believed in.

  “They should lay down money on her,” Tray suggested. “Seems to me that would end what they consider a problem and turn it into an asset.”

  Robert chuckled, not that anyone who didn’t know the expensively dressed fifty-something man would call it a chuckle. To an outsider, the sound probably came across as a warning, Robert’s way of saying he didn’t give a damn about anyone’s opinion.

  The thing was, Tray didn’t give a damn what Robert thought and Robert knew it. Their relationship was both complex and simple, two men with very little in common who nevertheless had agreed to work together.

  Work? That was one way of putting it.

  “I wagered a grand on her.” Robert had to press his shoulder against Tray’s so they could carry out a private conversation in the crowded stands. “What about you?”

  Damn it, betting that much on a weekday ten-furlong race held in a rural county would stand out. Robert had gotten rich too fast helping run Carnal and had lost perspective. If they were going to pull off the harvesting, they had to keep a low profile—at least as low a profile as Tray was capable of. No matter that he was casually dressed in jeans and blue T-shirt, he stood out. He always did.

  The eight thoroughbreds in this race were being loaded into the starting gates. From this distance, the animals didn’t look that imposing, but he’d been around enough horses to have a healthy respect for them, especially high strung ones. No way would he be on the back of a twelve-hundred-pound beast hellbent on galloping as hard as its heart allowed, especially with other straining beasts all around.

  He and Robert had come to Copper County to harvest Marina Stenson, but he’d insisted on observing her in her natural habitat. It wasn’t that he gave a damn about the woman herself—years of being a broad-magnet tended to make them all blur together—but her choice of jobs fascinated him.

  Some five minutes ago, he’d been standing near the paddock area watching the horses being mounted. Because the jockeys had all worn helmets, at first he hadn’t been able to make her out. Then one had turned sideways, giving him a glimpse of breasts under red and black silks. He’d thought the male jockeys might shun her, but they hadn’t. Interesting.

  She’d hoisted herself onto the back of a chestnut mare, picked up the reins, and leaned over the mare’s neck to scratch her between the ears. Watching Marina, he’d wondered what her hands would feel like on him.

  Hell, that wasn’t what today was about. In time, if things played out the way they were supposed to, she’d learn to accept his hands all over her. Maybe move from tolerating to—

  The horses exploded from the starting gate, hooves pounding the packed earth. This was a far cry from the Kentucky Derby, but the crowd’s excitement was contagious. Silent, he leaned forward, his gaze locked on the blur of red and black now in
second place. Marina’s mount ran as if she was trying to beat the ground into submission. Despite that, Marina seemed part of the animal under her, quiet water surrounded by raging rapids. Thanks to his familiarity with horses, it didn’t take him long to pick up on a key reason for her success. No matter what was happening around her, Marina remained calm, and that calmness reached her horse. The mare stopped attacking the turf. Her strides lengthened and became smooth. Two furlongs from the end, the duo flowed past the lead horse and cruised to an easy win.

  “Damn!” Robert exclaimed. “That’s the easiest money I’ve made all year.”

  The horses cantered around the track as their riders brought them down from the highs they’d been on. Marina’s mare still reminded him of moving water, while Marina now sat straight and proud, looking all around. He could see why someone who hadn’t bet on her might see her stance as arrogance. What he didn’t understand was how anyone could hate her enough to arrange to have her freedom taken away.

  What did he care? By the end of the day, he’d start training Marina Stenson as a sex slave. She’d either be put up for auction at the end or sold before he’d finished working with her. Chances were she’d never sit on horseback again.

  Hell, he knew what facing the end of something he loved felt like.

  Chapter Two

  Maybe she should have accepted Barker’s invitation to buy her a beer, Marina thought as she pulled into the carport next to her small house. After all, Barker had been the first to give her a chance to race and she didn’t like thinking about where she’d be without him. Unfortunately, sixty-eight-year-old Barker smelled worse than the fairground’s stables. He was also getting hard of hearing and spoke so loudly he gave her a headache. Her other option had been to join several of the jockeys, which was a pretty safe bet because she’d seldom seen one drink more than a single beer. However, by the time she’d gotten away from a reporter, almost everyone had taken off.

  The interview questions had been predictable. How did she feel about being a woman in a male-dominated sport? Why had she decided to become a jockey? Was she ever afraid? What did she intend to do once her riding years were over?

  She’d had no hesitancy about answering the first two questions but the others were no one’s business. Of course fear occasionally factored in, but so far she’d been able to transfer the emotion into determination and split-second decisions. As for her plans for the rest of her life—she had them all right. What she needed was a bankroll to make them come true, which was why she was living in what was little more than a cabin on the five acres she’d bought at auction. All the acreage needed was a water source and fencing to become useful but—

  “Enough,” she muttered and unlocked the front door. Her fingers still tingled from gripping the reins during the three races she’d ridden in today and her inner thighs ached from holding on. Fortunately, she’d recently put in a new hot water heater and she intended to stand in the shower until it ran out.

  Because she needed to check the oil level in her truck, she didn’t bother locking the door before tugging off her racing boots. The house was too quiet, eerily empty. Until a month ago she’d shared it with Zero, the mutt she’d found along the side of the road the week she’d turned eighteen. After Zero had died in her arms, she’d stroked his gray muzzle for hours then buried him in the shade of an oak tree. At first she’d been too heartbroken to contemplate having another dog. Then she’d decided that the best way to honor her companion’s memory was by giving another stray a home. Unless something came up, she planned to go to the humane society on Wednesday and adopt another mutt.

  Smiling, she drew her top over her head and unfastened the confining sports bra on her way to her bedroom. She dropped her discarded clothes on the floor, took a ratty but clean T-shirt and shorts out of her dresser, and entered the bathroom with what she intended to wear after her shower. She leaned against the sink so she could tackle her leggings and the tight breeches that came to just below her knees. That left her with lacy white underwear, her only concession to her feminine side—except for the long, mostly black hair she wrestled into braids on race days. After shimmying out of the bikini, she turned on the water. While waiting for the room to steam, she unbraided her hair and shook her head. Ah, freedom!

  Yeah, freedom, she acknowledged as she stepped into the small shower. Responsible for nothing and no one except herself and her future dog. Independent. Self-sufficient.

  Pitting herself and her mount against the opposition, with her muscles straining and adrenaline flowing, left her more exhilarated at a race’s end than before the start. It took hours to come down off the incredible and nerve-wracking high, which meant she’d be wired until long after dark. Even hot water flowing over her did little to quiet the familiar jumpiness, not that she wanted it any other way.

  Hell, she wasn’t getting any sex these days and frustration contributed to the jumpiness. Fortunately, she knew how to take care of that. Eyes closed, she leaned her back against the shower wall, spread her legs, and slipped her right hand over what her father had called her woman’s place. She flicked one nipple then the other, awakening her breasts. Poor Dad. He’d done an admirable job as a single parent right up until his little girl had started to mature sexually. That was when he’d started stammering and shoving sex education books at her.

  Maybe they would have gotten past the awkward stage. She’d certainly hoped and expected that would have happened. However, Dad had died shortly before her fifteenth birthday.

  No! No thinking about that tonight! She’d made five hundred dollars today. The evening was hers—time for a little self-satisfaction.

  One caress. Two. Three. Then more and more strokes along her labia until her knees weakened and hot juices drenched her fingers. Her head fell back, her mouth opened and her nostrils flared. She switched from teasing her taut nipples to pinching them. Pain and something damn good radiated over her size C breasts. Sensation flowed down her middle and met with the sweet energy encompassing her sex.

  Well versed in her hot buttons, she conjured up a naked male body. Unlike the men she’d spent her day competing against, the one residing in her mind was heavily muscled with impossibly wide shoulders. Tall and self-confident, he invaded her space and pulled her hands off her body. He made her stand with her arms at her sides as he slipped two fingers past her parted lips. He didn’t speak, simply commanded her with a dark look. Even though she wasn’t sure she could trust her legs, she remained where he’d ordered and started mouth-fucking his fingers. She repeatedly licked him while staring up into his hooded eyes. The drawing sensation radiated down her neck, spread over her breasts and began a familiar trail to her pussy.

  Do what I command you to, his gaze said. Give me access to all your holes.

  A calloused palm pressed against her mons. Desperate for more, she arched her pelvis toward him. He grunted and shoved more firmly. When she stood her ground, when she opened herself even more to him, he nodded. Fingers closed over her labia, making her moan in anticipation.

  Then the intimate invasion shifted, the texture changed, and she reluctantly acknowledged it was just herself after all. She remained with her legs far apart as she withdrew her wet fingers from her mouth and stroked her breasts. The feminine fingers between her legs invaded then filled her opening. It wasn’t what she wanted, her fingers were too small, but she’d make do. Fuck herself as the water cooled.

  She came, a feathery climax that made her skin burn, followed by lethargy. Feeling both satisfied and still frustrated, she aimed the water at her pussy and washed away the scant discharge. Hopefully she’d be able to sleep. If not, there were always her sex toys.

  By the time she’d dried herself, put on shirt and shorts without bothering with underwear and wrapped a towel around her head, she’d mostly convinced herself that she was crazy for thinking she could achieve a teeth-rattling climax on her own. At least it hadn’t taken long. Once she’d dried her hair and found her sandals, she’
d tend to her truck, starting with adding some oil. While she was at it, she should check the antifreeze and windshield fluid levels. Then, glory be, she’d rustle up something to eat.

  The bedroom she’d just stepped into smelled—off. Different. Confused and a little uneasy, she stopped and looked around. Two men stood in the opening between her bedroom and living room. One was huge, an unbelievable mix of height and strength. The other barely registered.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded.

  Neither man spoke. Her heart slammed against her chest as if trying to break free. At the same time, her thoughts slowed, focused on the only thing that mattered—survival.

  “Leave. Get out of my place.”

  They continued staring at her. Granted, the window was open enough that she could dive through it but she’d take the screen with her. Adding to the risk, she was barefoot.

  She wanted to demand an explanation but didn’t because she wouldn’t like their response. This was bad, on the brink of a nightmare. If she was going to get out of right now alive, she had to do something.

  Not taking her attention off them, she stepped over to her bed and reached under her pillow. She pulled out a utility knife and engaged the blade.

  “Interesting,” the smaller man said. “I expected a gun.”

  Her pistol, unfortunately, was still in the truck’s glove compartment. She’d never thought she’d need a weapon, but had taken the gun safety course and bought the pistol as insurance. The knife had been her dad’s and she’d been sleeping with it ever since he’d gotten sick.

  After what seemed like forever, the big man took a forward step. She hadn’t wrapped her mind around his size, but at least he no longer shocked her. He simply was what he was, a threat to her existence.