The Nightingale Trilogy: An Alpha Billionaire Romantic Suspense

by Cynthia Dane

  “Now, don’t get too cheeky…” Vincent pulled the front of her jeans apart and let his fingers touch the top of her mound. “Although I do like a certain level of cheek from you.”

  His fingers cut a trail along her skin, sliding between her breasts, dipping into her navel, and coming so close to giving her true pleasure that Nala couldn’t do anything but shudder where she lay. A reward? This was a huge, drawn out tease meant to make her even hornier for him. Okay, so it’s working. Shut up.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stroked one of her nipples, eliciting a wave of pleasure through her torso and beyond. Now this is what I’m talking about. Nala’s hips slightly undulated against Vincent’s lap, especially when he shoved his other hand down her pants and rubbed her slit through her lingerie.

  Nala closed her eyes and let herself slip away into another world, one where they were the only two people to ever exist. Thank God for that. Because Nala was tired of experiencing an existence where she had to rely on people, had to make her own way, had to deal with the unpleasantness that was life. People say I’m so cynical for my age. Growing up, the elders in her neighborhood simply said she had an old soul. An old, adventurous soul that shirked learning how to keep house and do other “womanly” things such as cooking and childrearing. Those were more Tasha’s bag, although she was able to get away with not doing them too much either because she had her studies to tend to. Nala didn’t have an excuse beyond “I don’t want to.” Yulia would drag her in from outside, force her into the kitchen, and try to teach her “practical” skills so her un-academic daughter would have something to fall back on one day. Tasha was guaranteed a good career. The best my mother hoped for on my behalf was a good marriage. That wasn’t happening unless Nala could cook.

  So when Vincent insisted that she was a woman earlier, she felt lost. Lied to. Even for a split second, it felt like the biggest farce in the universe. How could Nala be a woman? She was too young, too inexperienced in what really mattered that she still felt like such a girl inside. Sure, she worked for a living. Sure, she took care of herself. Sure, she relied on hardly anyone, because she had run out of people to rely on. Did that really help make one an adult?

  Having sex didn’t make a person an adult, like having a job didn’t necessarily make one an adult. Young teens could do both of those things. I’m not a teenager anymore. Every passing day took Nala further and further away from that. Soon she would be forty, looking back on her life and wondering where the years had gone. How had time gone so quickly? How had life without Tasha continued to go on?

  Where would she be in twenty years? Would she finally have her revenge? Would she be with Vincent?

  Would she be happy, regardless?

  Nala came back to Earth when Vincent cupped his fingers around her slit, forcing her lingerie inside her as he threatened to finger her like that. But the cloth of her underwear created an impenetrable barrier, even if it stretched more the wetter it became. You’re going to tease me to death! Her eyes opened, meeting Vincent’s in the darkness of his living room. Nala’s breaths became more erratic. Her hands stretched out, curling around his muscular arm as he slid his fingers deeper into her jeans.

  “Will you let me come?” she asked, almost pitifully. “I mean… please sir.”

  “I’m sure you would like that. How many orgasms should I let you have tonight? There are two schools of thought when it comes to training a sub and utilizing orgasms as rewards and tools. One says I should let you come as often as possible, as it helps you associate everything that happens with incredible pleasure.” His fingers pulled her lingerie aside and dipped into her wetness. It took all of Nala’s power to not gasp in absolute frustration. “The other school says I should reserve them for only the most pivotal moments. Orgasms have to be earned. The training is in the tease.”

  “What school of thought do you belong to, sir?” Her breath was leaving her. Soon she wouldn’t be able to speak at all unless Vincent forced her to.

  “I belong to whichever one I feel like indulging in.”

  His fingers drew a slow, languid line along her clit, turning Nala into a moaning, almost begging creature that subsisted solely off the pleasure a single man could give her. Oh my God! This coincided with a pinch to her nipple. A very, very delectable pinch to her nipple. I’m turning into a sex fiend because of this man. What a life that would be!

  Before she could enjoy the full gamut of an orgasm, however, Vincent pulled his fingers out and patted her stomach. So that’s how it’s going to be? Apparently Vincent believed in the second school of thought.

  “You’re doing great, Nala. I couldn’t be happier with your behavior tonight.”

  So did that mean she got a treat? Is that what her reward was? Some bones, some scraps thrown in this bitch’s direction? He’s gonna make me homicidal at this rate. Heat had swollen in her stomach, begging for release. So much energy, so much tension… did Vincent know what kind of fire he currently played with? He really shouldn’t underestimate Nala Nazarov. She always got her way… eventually.

  “Sit up.”

  She obeyed, with his help, sitting up in his lap. Vincent eased her off the couch and back onto the floor.

  “Turn your back to me and put your hands behind you. Trust me.”

  She already did, but she wouldn’t tell him that… again.

  When she was in position, Vincent pulled one last thing from his deep pockets. A single silk scarf. Nala shouldn’t have been surprised… and yet she was.

  “Don’t worry, darling, you haven’t misbehaved,” Vincent said, as he secured her wrists behind her back. “I want to see how well you take to being, ah, hands free.”

  She had no idea what he meant by that. She was sure she would find out soon enough.

  “There. Is it too tight?”

  Nala barely noticed the scarf tied around her wrists. “No, sir.” Her fingers wiggled freely. She was secured, but it would take considerable effort to break free. Only if she really wanted to. And I don’t. Just don’t give me a reason to try.

  “Good. Let me know if they’re too tight and you’re uncomfortable.”

  “I will, sir.”

  “Listen to you.” Vincent pulled her hair back, ensuring he had the best view of her body – and her face, of course. Nala did not miss the hard bulge in his pants. Let me guess where this is going. She wouldn’t complain. Yet. “I never thought you would be so compliant, let alone during a training phase. Do you enjoy submitting?”

  Nala looked away, studying the creases in the leather couch as if they held some mystical answer for her to consult. Do I? She was pretty sure she did, but she was still new to this world. Yet it felt right. It was something definitely worth exploring. If I’m going to explore it with anyone, it better be someone like Vincent. The man who had the ability to make her smile with one of his own. And, well, he wasn’t too bad in bed.

  “I like what I’ve done so far.”

  “You say you like it rough?”

  “I like both rough and gentle.” Nala held back her smile, forcing her lips to curl inward and make her look even cheekier than usual. “With you, anyway. You do both very well, sir.”

  If Vincent were the type of man to blush, surely this would be his shining moment for it. “You flatter me, Nala. I know you can’t be an easy woman to please. Normally I’d chastise a sub for trying to suck up to me, but I don’t think you are. I think you’re telling the truth.”

  “I am. I like both rough and gentle with you. The only scary thing is how easily you tell which one I need in any moment.” Nala twisted her fingers in their binds. “Which one do you think I need right now, sir?”

  She got the reaction she wanted. Vincent, pulling on her hair and bringing his face close to hers. “I think you need to be put in your place before you get out of hand.”

  He kissed her, hard, his tongue prying her mouth apart and diving deep. Both hands clasped her face, steadying her – a happy fact, since she d
idn’t have her arms to keep her balanced. I love the way he kisses. Vincent never half-assed it. Every time he kissed, it was with true, unadulterated intent. Nala could wrap herself up in his arms if it were possible.

  “You know how to rile me up, Nala,” he muttered on her lips, one hand going to his hips and unzipping his jeans. Nala spared a look for the erection coming out of his clothes. The man hadn’t even taken off his T-shirt, and here Nala was, knowing exactly what was expected of her. She only hoped it would be in the manner she wanted most right now. Not that she would tell him. Just as he trained her, she trained him to learn the movements of her body and what it was she wanted. She practically trained him to read her mind. Vincent would not be the type of man to wave away a woman’s whims as “They’re mysterious. Who knows what they’re thinking?” He wanted to know what Nala was thinking. Even when he tied her up, gagged her, spanked her, whatever, he still wanted to know what thoughts ticked in her head. That’s what made him so respectable on the outset.

  “Is there something I can help you with?” she asked sweetly, knowing full well what was expected of her. She only had to glance in his lap again to get a glimpse of her imminent future.

  He kissed her again, his hardness surging toward her stomach. “Put that wordy mouth of yours on my cock.” His breath soared in her ear, diving deep, deep down into her heart and eliciting a gasp from her throat. “You talk too much for a sub, even one I’m being patient with. Perhaps I should punish your mouth.”

  He could have easily done that with his unforgiving kisses, but of course, that would be too easy – and not get him any sexual relief. When Nala’s head was shoved into his lap, she inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of his strong musk and everything that entailed. At this point, nothing else could have excited her as much. Let alone excited her to dart out her tongue and lick his stiffening shaft as soon as possible. The first swear word of relief to fall from his lips nearly tickled Nala to death.

  “That’s it. Good. Good.” Now Vincent was the one controlling his breaths, gently guiding Nala’s head over the tip of his cock. Salt and sweat touched her tongue, delightful, delicious. Nala wrapped her tongue around it as soon as possible, showing Vincent how eager she truly was to please him – and be pleased in return. I definitely am pleased by doing this. She couldn’t explain it. She didn’t know why she liked doing this so much. Maybe it was because it was for him. Was it possible to enjoy serving a man so much?

  Nala barely had a hold on him with her mouth before he yanked her hair, sending a thousand thrills through her scalp and forcing her eyes up toward his. Until then, her eyes had been closed, savoring the moments as they went blissfully by. Now she was forced to look him in the soul, wondering how much of this came from Vincent the man or Vincent the Dom.

  Does it matter?

  “Keep it up,” he growled, one hand holding tight to the back of her head while the other continued to pull at her hair. “Inhale my cock, darling.”

  Used to be Nala could take or leave that name he called her. Now she came to love it, knowing that it wasn’t a term of endearment he pulled out of his ass on the spur of the moment at The Aviary. He had probably thought about it. “What do I want to call her? What name fits this woman the best?” He had settled on darling, for one reason or another, and now he used that word whenever he wanted to make sure Nala felt special. That isn’t hard to do anymore.

  Vincent gave her enough reprieve to reorient herself, steadying her breaths through her nose as she worked her way up and down his ever-hardening cock. Is he going to come soon? Nala was sure that was part of the plan, although now that Vincent had time to enjoy the moment, he would probably hold off until he absolutely could not anymore.

  Nala realized that this was a service to her Dom. Even so, there was no denying the pleasure it brought her, in unconventional ways. She enjoyed the challenge of pleasuring him like this without the use of her hands – although she longed to wrap one fist around his shaft and squeeze him, feeling the raw power residing within. It would also make taking him deeper into her mouth easier to bear. Yet without her hands to rely on, Nala had to be more patient, more resourceful. She used her tongue to draw him toward her throat, relaxing whatever stood in the way of her taking him down to places he had yet to explore. Not even his passionate tongue could reach this far into her mouth.

  Don’t you dare fucking choke, idiot. Not only would Nala be embarrassed, but it would ruin the mood. He’s expecting me to do this. So do it! Nala rarely backed down from a challenge. A man asking her to practically – no, actually – deep throat him? Yeah, sure, no problem. Or so she told herself.

  In reality, it was not an easy feat to do, let alone on her first try, and without the ability to use her hands to steady herself.

  Vincent encouraged her, giving her the occasional tip when he had the mind to. Nala was sure that was becoming more difficult as time went on. After all, it could not have been easy to stop his fantasies in order to tell her what she needed to do to not choke or otherwise hurt herself and him by extension. While Nala appreciated it, she was also sure she could have figured it out on her own. Eventually.

  When they fell into a rhythm that suited them both, Nala let herself go and rode the wave of power coursing through her. She had given up all control, but she was still a major part of this moment. It could not have existed without her, as it could not have existed without Vincent. We’re both equal in this. Just because he’s calling all the shots… doesn’t mean he doesn’t need me here. Could Vincent have achieved this pleasure on his own? Surely not!

  Perhaps he couldn’t even achieve it with another woman. Such a thought took Nala by surprise, but she let it go, choosing to instead focus on the moment before her.

  Not that Vincent could let things go on course. He always had to up the ante, which he did the moment Nala let her guard down. Soon enough, her hair pulled at her scalp, her breath pounding through her nostrils and her fingers fighting for freedom as Vincent lifted his hips off the couch and fucked her damned throat.

  She cried out, muffled by his body, by the sheer amount of need coursing through the both of them. Nala had to concentrate more than ever, but her heart thumped wildly, accepting what had happened with grace and as much dignity as she could muster. If anyone saw them in this moment, she would not be upset about it. In fact, she would be proud, because not only could she take this, but Vincent had chosen her. That in itself brought her pleasure.

  The sounds coming from his throat increased, becoming more intense, threatening to burst from his chest before the rest of him was lost to pleasure. In the last moment of his sanity, he warned Nala. She knew what was coming.

  Him.

  She could not suppress the alarm going off in her head as Vincent came, one wave after another surging down Nala’s throat and filling her mouth. His cock swelled to unusual size, her mouth working it, draining it of every last bit of his vitality. There was no time to savor his taste. No time to feel the ripples of his body as he shared this moment with her. There was only him, her, and what happened in her throat.

  “Fucking shit, Nala.” Vincent sank back into the couch, his cock falling from Nala’s mouth. She gasped, gulping in the first deep breaths she had in minutes. “That was the best.”

  The best what? The best oral? The best sex? The best she ever gave him? Nala knew he wouldn’t divulge that detail. Not yet, anyway. So she leaned her head against the couch, panting, some of his seed already dribbling from the corner of her mouth. She was too tired to do something about it.

  His hand came for her, stroking the top of her head until she looked up at him with the softest expression she ever felt on her own face.

  “You’re adventurous,” Vincent said. “I knew that already but… you surprise even me.”

  Nala braved a few words. “What do you mean? Didn’t expect me to like that?”

  “You’re not the type of woman a man would take for being a submissive.”

  “Yeah, I give
off that vibe.” Nala grinned. “Does that make it more fun for you? Knowing that I will do these things and like it?”

  “Maybe. Like I told you before, I’m a lot more into the feisty type than the demure. I like a girl who makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something as opposed to being serviced.”

  “Accomplishing? You mean like breaking a poor girl in?”

  “Over and over.”

  “Mm, Mr. Lane, you like a girl with some resistance.”

  “Playful resistance.”

  “Of course.”

  Vincent bent down, tilting Nala’s head back. “I like you, Nala. I haven’t said that to someone in a very, very long time.”

  Not since Desirée, I’m sure. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Lane.”

  “You’re a mess already.” Vincent lightly kissed her lips. “Something tells me you enjoy being messy.”

  “I was quite the tomboy growing up. Always climbing trees and getting muddy.”

  “I like it.”

  He kissed her harder, delving between her lips and tasting himself on her tongue. That is so hot. There was no shame between them. No thoughts of disgust or ambivalence. If it weren’t for her wrists becoming sore in their binds, she could have easily spent half her lifetime kneeling there in front of him, feeling him kiss her, explore her, and indulge in some of life’s simple pleasures that they so rarely allowed themselves.

  “I think it’s time I took you upstairs.”

  Chapter 14

  Vincent stood, gently bringing Nala to her feet before swooping her up in his arms. With her arms bound behind her, however, Nala was truly at his mercy. I trust him. Only an accident could bring her pain now, and she trusted Vincent enough to be careful so that never happened.

  His steps were slow going up the spiral staircase to his lofted bedroom. It gave Nala time to relax in his arms, feeling her hair hang beneath her head and scrape against the shining metal around her. None of that compared to the heat radiating from beneath this man’s T-shirt. His breaths were steady, his need to have her so quickly abated. Nala didn’t worry about her own pleasure. She knew that Vincent would take care of her needs.