by Selena Kitt
Right then, Ella decided to meet up with the Divas every chance she had.
As she was finishing the last drop of her cocktail, she became aware of Morgan's gaze on her. "What?"
"How's my brother?"
"What?"
"Pierce?" Ava demanded.
"What's this about Pierce?" Eden asked.
Blinking innocently, Morgan twirled the ice in her glass.
"Are you fishing?" Ella asked. Or had she heard something from Pierce?
"I told Pierce I didn't have to be a mathematician to figure this out. I saw the way he was looking at you. And then you left the anniversary party in tears. And since you told me you didn't go home with Braxton, I figured that—"
"Braxton?" Ava interrupted. "You were going to go home with—" she plugged her nose so that her voice had an upper crust, hoity-toity air, "Braxton W. Thurston, Jr.?"
Ella shook her head.
"He's banned from Joe and Noelle's parties," Jennifer added.
"And no. I didn't," Ella said, again grateful for Pierce's intervention.
"How about with Pierce?" Morgan persisted.
"Did you ask him?" Ella countered.
Morgan wrinkled her nose. "He said to ask you."
Eden leaned forward. "I'm dying to know."
"There's nothing to tell. You all know I don't date men unless they're marriage material. And he lives in North Carolina."
Jennifer scowled. "Isn't he moving to Colorado?"
The bottom dropped out of Ella's heart. "What?" Her ears rang and the tequila soured in her stomach.
"He's been talking to Logan about joining the detective agency. It won't happen right away, but I know they've been having conversations." Jennifer scowled. "That's not a secret, is it?"
"I didn't know," Morgan said, her hand frozen in place.
"Neither did I," Ella admitted.
"I must have misunderstood something," Jennifer rushed to say. "At any rate, I apologize for opening my big mouth. I'm going to catch a beating for this one. Repeating privileged information. Not quite as excited about going home and confessing."
"I don't think you need to say anything to Logan," Eden said, always the loyal one.
"He'll find out. No doubt. And hiding it will make it more difficult for me to sit down."
Conversation went on around Ella, and it sounded like insects droning in her ears. Pierce contacted her almost every day. Why hadn't he said anything?
Her stomach twisted. She'd been right all along. He might want sex or to scene when he was in town. But he had no interest in a real relationship, the one thing that mattered to her.
When he'd left, she'd made it clear to him that it was over. But for her that hadn't been true.
Ella had tried to save herself from heartbreak, but in the end she'd failed.
Damn it.
When would she ever learn?
The server arrived with the bill and Jennifer picked it up, saying, "It's the least I can do for running everyone's evening."
"You didn't," Eden assured her.
"I'll pick it up next time," Ava promised.
"I'm going to kick his sorry soul into the next zip code when I see him," Morgan said. "He hasn't said a word to Mom or Dad, either."
The gathering broke up, and Morgan walked outside with her.
"Ella. I'm sorry. I had no idea what I was starting," Morgan apologized. "I wanted to get you out, have some fun, maybe learn some salacious details about my brother. But I had no intention of hurting you."
"We've been in contact," Ella disclosed, and that was as much as she'd ever say. "But this is news to me."
"He must have wanted it to be a surprise."
"Well, it worked. I'm surprised."
"I know he cares about you. I know it."
Ella gave a brave smile that she was afraid was going to shatter. "We're friends. Nothing more."
"I hate him a little right now."
"Don't." She shrugged. "At least not on my behalf. I knew what I was doing."
"There's nothing I can say to make this better, is there?"
"I'll be fine." Though the last thing she wanted was company or obligations, Ella wanted to make Morgan feel better. "Let's have happy hour again next week."
"Same place and time?"
"The margaritas are good." Ella nodded.
"Call me if you want to talk or go out or go shopping. Or anything."
"I will." That part was a lie.
When she was in the car, she picked up her phone.
The screen was blank.
She wished she had been surprised.
* * *
Her desk phone buzzed. From the extension on the display, she knew it was from the receptionist at the podium.
"Hey, Ella. I've got a gentleman who'd like to talk to someone about membership. And Barb went home ill."
"I'll be right up."
Typically, potential members scheduled an appointment in advance. Barb would show them the facility and sometimes treat them to a meal. Every once in a while, someone would show up without calling, and on those occasions, the club provided information and encouraged the visitor to return for an official tour.
She shrugged into her black blazer and took a vanity second to look in the mirror to ensure she didn't need to dab on some eye cream. She hadn't slept well last night, waiting for Pierce to text and say something. Anything. But he never had.
Deciding she wouldn't frighten the visitor, she grabbed a package of information from Barb's desk before pasting a practiced smile on her lips as she walked through the public areas of the club toward the podium.
She missed a step when she saw Pierce in the lobby. He was so handsome in a polo shirt, navy slacks, and a blazer that her breath lodged in her throat.
"Ella, this is Mr. Holden," the receptionist said.
Unable to speak, she nodded.
Since he extended his hand, she had no option but to accept it, even though every instinct warned her not to.
Instinct had been right.
His grip was reassuring, promising, strong, and most of all, welcomed by the most feminine part of her. The one that was unable to resist him.
She extracted her hand faster than was polite. "Staff Sergeant Holden, is it? Rather than Mr. Holden?"
The receptionist turned to greet a couple of ladies dressed for tea.
"It is."
Had Jennifer been wrong last night? If so, why was he here? "I'm sure you heard that Barb, who handles new memberships, isn't available? You're welcome to come back to see the premises. In the meantime, I'm happy to answer any questions you might have."
In response, he dropped to one knee. Her mouth opened and heat flooded her body.
The receptionist and the ladies who were there for afternoon tea, all stopped to stare.
"Pierce?"
"I do have a question, Ella." His eyes were brighter, more intense than she'd ever seen, and a serious frown had settled between his brows.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box.
She lost her grip on the promotional folder, and it fell to the floor.
"Will you marry me?"
"What?"
Instead of responding, he opened the box.
The princess cut diamond was ginormous, bouncing off the overhead light, refracting all the colors of the rainbow.
"I don't understand."
"You made your position clear. I want you. I will do whatever it takes to deserve you. It will take some compromise from you, because it will be a while until I get my official discharge. I'm transferring to Fort Carson, and I've made post-retirement plans to work with Logan Powell in his detective agency. We will need to work out where to live. Things won't be perfect for a long time. And no doubt you'll have issues with me working with Logan, but we'll deal with that, too. Together. This is everything I have to offer you, Ella. Please tell me it's enough, that you're willing to try as hard as I am."
Words failed her, and emotion flooded
her.
"I love you, Ella. It took me some time to wake up to that fact. Being away from you, knowing I couldn't talk to you and that you'd only respond to ten percent of my texts made me a madman."
One of the ladies fanned herself.
"Say something," he encouraged.
"I…" She wished she could. But all of her dreams—of being with a fantastic person, a caring Dominant, someone who would support her and push her—were right there. It thrilled and overwhelmed her.
"Put me out of my misery, Ella, please. This is my new version of the Holden Holy Hell position."
Tears spilled from her eyes, and she laughed through them.
"Is that a yes?"
"Yes!"
He pulled the ring from the box, and the two ladies clapped.
Her future husband slid the ring on her finger.
It looked like hope and promise rolled into one.
Then he stood and raised her hand and kissed it. "I'd planned to come to your house tonight, but I couldn't wait."
"I'm glad."
The ladies and the receptionist came over to shake hands, give hugs, and share their best wishes.
The he backed her into a portico. "We can't," she protested when the wall prevented her from moving any farther.
"The fuck we can't. I braved IEDs and the entire might of the US military to get to you, red tape, bureaucratic bullshit, then airplane reservations, rental cars. If you don't think I'm kissing my future bride…"
"You'll get me fired!"
"Good. That will give you the opportunity to practice being my sex slave. I'll teach you a few more of my favorite positions."
She giggled. "When you put it that way…" She tried to glance around, but he captured her chin and imprisoned her.
"Open your mouth."
"Yes, Sir," she whispered. Ella breathed him in, the scent of determination and sexual charisma. Her body vibrated with recognition that he was the man she'd been waiting for her whole life.
Thrilled, nervous at the idea of being caught, she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck so that she could look at him and her engagement ring.
He claimed her mouth, took what was his, everything she had to offer.
His mouth was hot, and he telegraphed sensual need. "I've got to get you home."
Everything he wanted, she did, too. "I can leave in about an hour."
He glowered.
She might have laughed at his expression if she weren't afraid he'd toss her over his shoulder and carry her out the front door. "I'll see if someone will cover for me."
"I'll meet you at your place?"
"Perfect."
Ella's boss allowed her to go home early to celebrate, and within half an hour, she was pulling into the driveway at her townhouse, heart pounding, anticipating what was ahead.
He was lazing against the hood of his rental car, somehow managing to look badass even though he was dressed for the country club.
He pushed away, strode over to her, opened her door then helped her out.
"You're more beautiful every time I see you."
He always took her breath away.
"Let's start this relationship the right way." His voice was edged with dominance, and corresponding pleasure rushed through her, making her clit throb.
"Sir?"
He held out his hand for her keys, and she tossed them to him.
Before she knew what he was about, he had her off the ground and over his shoulder. Breath whooshed out of her.
"Carrying you across the threshold."
"That's not how it works," she protested, kicking.
"It does in this relationship." With a flick of his hand, he closed the car door.
"Pierce! Put me down!"
Instead, he brushed her skirt up a little and gave her ass a hard spank.
She melted. He understood her so completely, perfectly.
He was worth the wait.
His steps were long and confident as he walked to the house, unlocked and opened the door. After he carried her inside, he kicked it closed behind them.
"It's time for you to learn the Holden-Gibson Forever pose," he said, lowering her to the floor. "Shall we get started?"
"Oh, Sir. I thought you'd never ask."
The End
Enticement is the second in “Master Class” series. The first book, featuring Jennifer and Logan, starring Joe and Noelle, and introducing the fabulous Carpe Diem Divas is available now on all platforms.
Sierra Cartwright
A USA Today best-selling author, Sierra Cartwright has been called “Even racier than Fifty Shades” by the UK's Mail Online.
She was born in Manchester, England where she spent her early years traipsing through castles and dreaming of marrying a prince. After living in Denver for a number of years, the internationally acclaimed author now resides in Galveston, Texas.
Master Class:
Initiation
Enticement
Donovan Dynasty:
Bind
Brand
Boss
Bonds:
Crave
Claim
Command
Coming Soon:
Dare
Devoted
Demand
She invites you to socialize with her at:
www.facebook.com/SierraCartwrightOfficial
instagram and twitter: @SierraWrites
www.sierracartwright.com
Aim for Pleasure
By
Yasmine Hyde
Chapter One
"Gracious, I can't believe you're actually going to do it, Kerrigan," Raquel, her long-time friend, a public affairs technician, said. They had met four years ago when Kerrigan put on her first event as an enlisted aide.
"Yeah, I am." Kerrigan set down her third drink of the night and smiled at her group of friends gathered at a bar on the outskirts of Fayetteville. The place housed more civilians than military, and that was the lure. However, it was still too crowded for her taste. It was stifling and hot in the club type bar, people drinking, dancing and having fun, but personally she only enjoyed settings like this if she was in control of it—being able to escape from the crush. There was no kitchen here for her. No place to step away and breathe.
"I wish I had your guts too, girl. Stepping out and starting your own business." Milly, her best friend since services technical school, shouldered her way through the swaying bodies pressing around them and set down a tray with shots.
"Really my sister gets all the credit. She's been busting her ass practically solo to get the business off the ground." Kerrigan gave credit where it was due, to Chrissy, her older sister. Three years ago, they'd put a plan together. Her sister was a counselor at a county community center working with families. They had decided to combine their expertise and go into a new venture. It was working well. Now Kerrigan could afford to get out.
"Whoever, glasses up." Rhonda was in Security Forces squadron, and frequently on detail at the base commander's home. "You're doing your damn thing. To Kerrigan!"
The group of ten friends raised their shot glasses, Kerrigan smiling and laughing at the comments and jeers the women with her tossed out.
Her second shot of the night went down smooth, she barely felt the burn or licorice bite of Jäger since the tequila sunrises had numbed her taste buds. She wasn't drunk but she was buzzing hard. Always working, she rarely got to go out and drink like she and her friends did when they were first term Airmen with very little responsibilities other than to show up for work on time and stay out of trouble. She had a week left before she was on terminal leave. Her replacement, Jordan Handler, was trained and up to par on the style and requests of the commander and his wife. In a month, Jordan would serve the new base commander. General Rogers had gotten his second star and was headed to Lackland. His big promotion party was Kerrigan's last duty. Jordan would handle the change of command ceremony and dinner with the protocol office.
That was on
e big project she was happy not to have to carry the burden on.
"Oh, shit, this is my song." Milly moved her hips to Work. As the Latina began to walk backwards, gyrating into the masses, she waved at the rest of them to follow her.
The brave ones in their group went out and linked with guys who grabbed them up quickly.
"You going out?" Raquel, a true Kentucky girl, lifted her bottle of beer by the neck and drank from it. "It's your night, Kerri."
"In a bit. I'm going to the ladies' room first." Kerrigan pushed the last half of her drink to the center of the table and walked off. She maneuvered through the press of the Friday night crowd toward the back hall. She and her girlfriends had been there more than a handful of times so she was familiar with the place.
She walked by the men's bathroom and then the line to the women's. There was a door marked 'supply closet' that she barely gave more than a cursory glance. But there was a small alcove to the left of it that led to the emergency exit door. She didn't see any alarm on the door, just the long press bar. Pushing through it, her system rejoiced as the balmy night air caressed her skin and filled her lungs. Before someone saw the way she had gone, she stepped out and placed a small pebble in the door so she could get back in without walking around to the front entrance.
The lighting was dim out in the back alley, but she didn't care. Moving down the path some, just so that if someone came out, her small sanctuary wouldn't be immediately disturbed, she leaned against the brick of the bar and inhaled. Thankful that the place didn't keep their dumpster right at the side door like other places. Most likely it was in the back. The wall of the store beside the bar was about ten feet away, just enough room for a delivery vehicle to drive through if need be.
The brick vibrated along her back, carrying the bass of the music blaring inside. She knew she'd have to head back in soon. Hell, it was her going away party; it was a little rude for her to remove herself from it. But her friends, who had been her friends for years, knew her, and they wouldn't be immediately concerned.
In the last four years she'd been at No Hope, Pope, she'd been consumed by her AF career—no personal life. Her last boyfriend had been when she was a Senior Airmen Services Technician. When she'd cross-trained to be an enlisted aide, they'd ended it. The guy had wanted a girl with more free time to hang out and party.
