Perv

by Becca Jameson

  When she finally came down, her vision cleared enough to see Mason’s smile. He gradually eased his fingers off her until his palms remained, holding her lips apart, keeping her exposed, but not touching her most sensitive areas. “You’re beautiful. Was it worth it?”

  “God, yes…Sir.” She panted, trying to catch her breath. And she wasn’t kidding. The only thing that would have made that better would have been his cock.

  Would he undo her now? She wanted to touch him. Hell, she wanted to suck his cock. Would he let her return the favor?

  “I’m so proud of you, Jenna.” He grazed his thumbs around her open lips, pressing on her enough to keep her arousal alive.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “The next one will be even better, baby.” His fingers moved over her limp body. “And it will be easier to remain still each time now that you know what the reward is.”

  Wait? What? Now? She lifted her head off the mattress to get a better view of him.

  Mason dipped two fingers back into her soaked pussy and held her gaze. “I told you we had all day. That was just a taste. You said I was a perv. I’m going to make you eat those words.” He grinned.

  “Sir?”

  “Yes, baby?”

  “I…” She couldn’t formulate a sentence. It wouldn’t matter. Nothing she said would deter him from his determination to torture her some more.

  “That’s what I thought. Now, lie back and enjoy the ride. I may be a perv, but by the end of the day, you’re going to thank me.”

  “I already did thank you, Sir.”

  “And I liked hearing those words. Let’s rehearse a few more times. Shall we?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Jenna’s arousal darted back full force. She might as well “enjoy the ride” as Mason had said, because she didn’t appear to have any other choice this afternoon.

  And there was nowhere else she’d rather be than right here, trussed to Mason’s bed, in the home she now shared with him, learning to turn her need for control over to this perv…

  About the Author

  Becca Jameson lives in Atlanta, GA, with her husband and two kids. After years of editing, she is now a full-time author. With over 25 best-selling books written, she has dabbled in a variety of genres, ranging from paranormal to contemporary to BDSM. She loves chatting with fans, so feel free to contact her through email, Facebook, or her website.

  …where Alphas dominate…

  http://www.beccajameson.com

  Hartwood Publishing

  Stories that resonate in your heart long after the book is closed.

  The Hartwood Publishing Group thrives on introducing you to new authors and great stories. If you enjoyed this book, please spread the word. And keep reading for a special preview of Need, Book 3 in The Fight Club series.

  We hope you enjoy it, and if you do, let the author know.

  Chapter One

  “Ugh. I’ll be so glad when this school year is over. If one more sixteen-year-old tells me they forgot their homework, I’m going to scream.”

  Emily smiled across the table at Virginia and took another sip of her wine. Dinner at her favorite restaurant with her best friend was long overdue. “One more week. I know we can make it.”

  “Easy for you to say. You get to hide in the library sorting books while I grade World History finals.” Virginia smirked lightheartedly.

  “Hey, now. I have to collect lost-book fees too. That can be grueling.” She laughed. There was no comparison. She had to agree. She’d been a school librarian for ten years now, and she loved it. The pay sucked, but helping teens learn to love reading was her passion.

  “I’m feeling so very sorry for you,” Virginia teased.

  “Are you still willing to go with me to that club Friday night?”

  “Of course. Are you sure it’s the best idea though? I’m worried about you. You aren’t some undercover cop, Emily. You’re a high school librarian.”

  “I need to do this. Claire was my sister. I want to know what happened to her.”

  Virginia reached across the table and set a hand on Emily’s. “It won’t bring her back you know.”

  “I know.” Emily rolled her eyes. “I just need closure.”

  “It’s so raw still. She’s only been gone two months.”

  “That’s why it’s important to find out what I can now, while someone might remember her. If I wait too long, she’ll slip away.”

  Virginia smiled. “I understand how you feel. Really I do. If it were my sister, I’d want answers. I’m just warning you there may not be any answers to your questions, or you might not like them.”

  “I get that.” Emily shrugged. “Maybe it’s more than that. Maybe I just want to be close to her. Figure out what made her tick. Maybe I’ll feel like I understand her better if I visit the place she liked to hang out.”

  Virginia took a drink and leaned forward on her elbows. “She was a drug addict, Em. You know that. She’d been using for years.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah…and she OD’d. I know that.” Emily took a deep breath. “Where did she get those drugs? Maybe someone at Extreme was selling to her.”

  “You do know what kind of club Extreme is, right?”

  “Of course.” Emily glanced down and smoothed her napkin on her lap. She understood the gist. Extreme was a fetish club. She wasn’t stupid. She was well read. Hell, she’d been reading everything she could get her hands on since she was four years old. She knew enough about BDSM from romance novels to get by. Didn’t she?

  Virginia giggled again. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.” She held up her hands. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ll go with you for sure. Sounds like fun to me. But I’ll be shocked if you enjoy it. Besides, you’re way too shy to approach anyone even in a normal bar. There’s no way you’ll be able to make conversation in a BDSM club. Half the people there will be nearly or completely naked, Em.”

  Em took another deep breath. Just because it was described that way in books, were there really places like that in real life? She had no idea, but she intended to find out. Sure, she hoped she might figure out what happened to Claire, but it was more than that. She also wanted to know what made Claire tick. If her sister spent Friday nights at Extreme, Emily wanted to see what all the hype was about.

  Claire was only twenty-seven when she died, the youngest sibling. That left Emily and Mike. At thirty-three, Emily felt a huge responsibility toward her middle sibling now. They were very close. So close, he’d even lived with her for a while.

  Neither Mike nor her parents had been there to empty Claire’s apartment after she died. Virginia had helped Emily with that task. Most of Claire’s belonging they either pitched or sold. Virginia had packed up all the paperwork and anything she thought might be important from Claire’s desk. That box now sat untouched in Emily’s closet. The only thing Emily kept out was Claire’s day calendar. Extreme had been penciled in on several weekend nights. That was all Emily had to go on. If she wanted to know more about Claire, she needed to start at her favorite club.

  No way could she tell her parents. They would freak if they thought she was digging into Claire’s private life. Her parents were still so upset Emily could barely speak to them about Claire. Her brother, Mike, was more levelheaded, a hard worker. Nevertheless, Emily didn’t want him to know about her snooping either.

  Curiosity drove her to find out what happened to Claire. She didn’t get the drugs out of thin air. Someone supplied her. The cops weren’t interested in investigating the obvious overdose of a drug addict in her own home. If Emily wanted to know more about Claire, she had to figure it out alone.

  Chapter Two

  “How many nights are you going to stare at that woman? What happened to your balls, man?”

  Rider jerked his gaze to the right and wrapped his hands around the bottle of water he’d been nursing for over an hour. “What are you talking about?”

  Gage chuckled as he pulled up a stool and sat too close for comfort. He
let his arm brush against Rider’s and leaned into his personal space, simply because the man knew it would irritate Rider. He nodded toward the cute blonde across the room occupying a small rounded booth.

  Not that Rider needed him to specify. He knew damn well what and who Gage was referring to.

  “She might be smoking hot under all those clothes. You never know,” he goaded.

  Rider rolled his eyes. “You know I like my submissives seasoned.”

  Gage shrugged. “So, go out on a limb. Season this one yourself. You can even choose your own spices.” He chuckled.

  Rider shot him a glare. “You think you’re funny tonight.”

  “I’m funny every night. Ask all the women.” Gage nodded toward the bartender, and the man slid a soda in front of him.

  “Don’t you have anything better to do than eaves drop on my attentions?”

  Gage took a long drink before he answered. “Yep. Her name’s Kayla. And she’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

  “Well go wait for her someplace else and stop pestering me.” Rider let his gaze roam back toward the blonde in the booth, not turning his head to give himself away.

  “What’s got your panties in a wad? You’ve been out of sorts for a few weeks now. Even at the gym. Your punches have begun to make my jaw ache.” Gage rubbed his chin to emphasize his point. “I’m just sayin’. It’s been a while since you’ve been with a woman. Maybe you should stop staring at that sexy cougar over there and go talk to her. She’s all buttoned up tight like a librarian. Maybe you can loosen her up a bit.”

  “Sexy cougar? What the fuck are you talking about?” Rider’s face flamed. Again, he knew damn good and well what Gage meant. The woman at the booth was clearly older than him. But not by a lot. At least he didn’t think so. She had a youthful look about her. She wasn’t exactly in her seventies as Gage implied. More like thirty…maybe.

  Gage chuckled again. “Go get her, man. Just do it. I heard sex gets better with age for women. You might hit the jackpot.” He jumped down from the stool and backed up before Rider could slap him upside the head.

  God knows he tried. He swung fast, but Gage moved quicker. In a flash, the man was gone.

  Rider turned his attention back to the blonde. She had no idea he was watching her. But he’d caught her staring at him several times the last few weeks.

  She’d been coming to Extreme for three Fridays now with her girlfriend. Rider noticed her the first night. She had no experience in this world whatsoever, but she obviously wanted to get her feet wet or she wouldn’t keep coming back.

  Her girlfriend, on the other hand, had more gumption. She often left the blonde pixie alone to dance with a few Doms or talk to other people. The woman had gotten a little too comfortable in that booth. It was time to see what she was made of.

  Why not?

  Rider didn’t have anything else pressing on his agenda, and it had been a while since he’d enjoyed a submissive. He’d been busy lately. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, stud. It has nothing whatsoever to do with the woman in the booth.

  Rider needed to face the music. The woman wearing way too many clothes for a BDSM club had gotten under his skin. The best way to purge himself of her would be to face her head on. There was no way in hell she would be able to come close to meeting his standards in a sub. All he needed to do was prove that to himself, and he could get on with his life.

  He picked up his water as he stepped down from the stool and headed toward her.

  As he approached, the blonde noticed. She didn’t look at him directly, but she squirmed in her seat as he got closer. He made her nervous. He fought not to let that make him smirk.

  Don’t let it go to your head.

  Rider stopped when he reached her table. “May I?” He pointed at the section of curved bench she wasn’t occupying.

  The woman lifted her face toward him, her mouth falling open, her eyes widening. Deep blue eyes, just the color Rider loved.

  Internally, he groaned. His goal was to rid him of her allure, not make it worse.

  No worries. She didn’t have the foggiest notion about BDSM. Everything about her stance attested to that. Why was she here?

  Rider took the seat, his huge frame filling the space. “Rider Henderson,” he announced.

  She blinked at him and gripped the edge of the table with her hands.

  “And you are?” He leaned toward her.

  She swallowed, visibly shaken. “Emily.” The word was soft, muttered.

  “Just Emily?” He tried to keep from smiling. He was a cocky bastard. He knew that. But man how he loved her purity. She was so timid, and for the first time in his life, he found it attractive. Something about her called to him. He couldn’t put his finger on it. It was just there. Primal.

  “Emily Townsend.” Her full lips formed the words, but they were barely audible. She released the edge of the table and tucked her hands under her thighs.

  God, she was cute. He imagined her taking that measure to keep from fidgeting. His cock stiffened.

  Now who’s fidgeting?

  “You’ve been watching me,” he said.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I…” Her mouth stayed open as she lied to him.

  Rider leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table and raising one brow.

  Emily licked her lips and met his gaze. “Sorry.”

  “For what? For looking at me? Or for lying about it?”

  Her mouth opened again. And then closed. And that tongue. He ached to taste it. She might have managed to keep her hands still by sitting on them, but her tongue kept swiping over her full lips, enticing him, teasing him, though she was unaware. “Both?” she asked.

  Rider smiled. “Are you asking me a question?”

  “No. I…” She shook her head again and then sat up straighter.

  He changed the subject. “You’re not a very good submissive.”

  She swallowed hard and said nothing.

  Rider leaned back. He wanted to assess her further, intrigue eating at him. But that wasn’t the only reason. His dick needed more space. If he could stretch out, maybe the fellow would simmer down. God, it had been eons since a woman had affected him like this, and even longer since someone outside the fetish world had managed such a feat. Something about her combination of innocence and age lured him in. Now that he was closer, he had to admit she might be over thirty, intriguing him even more.

  He’d always been attracted to older women, even in his teens. They knew what they wanted and weren’t quite so…green. Except this woman. What was up with his attraction to her? She was older than him, but she was also very innocent. The way she fidgeted and lowered her eyelashes made his blood pump faster.

  He shook the thought from his head. “And yet you keep coming here.” He lowered one hand and drummed his fingers on the table, trying to read her. “Let me see if I can read you correctly.” He glanced around the social area and spotted Emily’s friend. “You came here the first time with your girlfriend because she begged you to. Before that, you’ve never been inside a BDSM club, or even considered it.

  “You came here the second week because your friend asked, but by then you were intrigued, not enough to participate or even put yourself out there, but enough that you found yourself titillated by the activities. Curiosity had ahold of you.

  “Tonight is your third trip. Your friend has made other friends. She’s working the room, trying to select someone she feels is safe for her first foray into this world. You don’t think you’re ready, but you also didn’t want your friend to come here alone. It might not be safe.

  “And then there’s me.” Rider leaned forward again. Fuck the hardon he suffered from. His face was inches from hers. “I’ve seen you following me with your eyes. You’re attracted to me, but you’re scared out of your mind to act on it.” He paused.

  Her eyes widened and her mouth opened again. She didn’t appear to have breathed throughout most of his monologue.

  “Did I ge
t most of that right?”

  She hesitated and then nodded.

  “Good. Then we’re getting somewhere.” Rider sat back again, needing space. He’d gotten close enough to smell her fruity shampoo and body soap. Hell, her lip gloss was some fruity flavor also, maybe cherry. And he hadn’t even tasted it.

  She held his gaze.

  Rider broke eye contact to take in the rest of her. “You haven’t managed to bring yourself to dress the part. Don’t get me wrong. You’ve done a little better each week, but you’re still overdressed for Extreme.”

  She nodded again, glancing down at her blouse and then her skirt. The skirt was shorter than what she’d worn the other two weeks. Yes, he had to admit he noticed. But it was still too long for his taste and the floral pattern was more fit for chaperoning a high school dance than a BDSM club. He liked the fact that it was full, however. That would come in handy.

  He lifted his gaze to her chest and held steady, knowing she was aware of his perusal. Her blouse was white. Not bad exactly, but the bra he could glimpse under the sheer material was too functional. The blouse wouldn’t be too inappropriate, if she lost the bra altogether, unbuttoned the front, and tied the tails in the middle.

  He longed to see her nipples. Instead, he lifted his gaze and cleared his throat. “I don’t take on newbies.”

  She didn’t move.

  “But I do find you sexy. Would you like me to give you a few pointers? Some guidance? If you’re planning to keep coming to Extreme, it might help if you knew the ropes better.” And it might help me work you out of my system. Surely he wouldn’t still be attracted to her after spending some time with her. After all, her innocence would make her a horrible submissive and drive him to lose interest fast.

  “That would be nice. Thank you.” A flush covered her face.

  He wondered how low it extended. Would her breasts be rosy from her embarrassment? Rider tapped his fingers again. “First things first. Submissives do not look their Dom in the eye unless it’s requested of them.” He watched her face turn redder, but her gaze remained on his until he raised an eyebrow again. He would push her, just enough to prove his point—that she couldn’t handle his world. And then he could walk away easily.