by V T Bonds
Sneaking In
Skylar's Story Part 1
V.T. Bonds
Copyright © 2019 by V.T. Bonds
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Ebook Cover design by Cover Lover Creations.
Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2: Check In
Chapter 3: A Quick Dip
Chapter 4: The End of the Beginning
Chapter 5: Slow Slide
Chapter 6: Sweet Spot
Chapter 7: Lost
Chapter 8: Corrupted
Chapter 9: Metamorphosis
Chapter 10: Reality Check
Chapter 11: Wren
Chapter 12: Inevitable
Keep up with V.T. Bonds:
Chapter 1
Look, I am not what you’d call a girly girl. I mean, I like my tiaras, pink princesses, and feminine nonsense. But girly girl? No. My mother became dismayed as I grew, because I had more tomboy tendencies. She’d be trying to play tea time with me, and I’d be making mud pies. But she learned to love me as I am.
I’d happily wear my frilly pink dresses, as long as I could be out climbing trees and beating up my brothers at the same time. But to label me as a tomboy doesn’t fit either. I also loved spending time in the kitchen, cooking with my mom. And dressing up for church on Sunday, enraptured by my mother’s makeup and soft, delicate features.
I grew up on a farm with my happily married Ma and Pop and two older brothers. They all doted on me, even as I ran circles around them and gave them all whiplash with my ability to learn just about anything. And then I hit puberty, and all the guys wouldn’t leave me alone. My brothers did a fine job fending most of them off, but I know how to handle myself.
When one boy tried to cop a feel at a school dance, I laid him out. Literally, in the middle of the dance floor, just clocked him in the jaw. Down he fell, and stayed down for a solid two minutes before anyone could rouse him. My brothers saw red, but backed off a bit after a heated discussion that evening. Even in middle school, I had an independent heart.
I may have grown up on a farm, with my Pop teaching me how to drive many types of vehicles, but that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable driving an F-350 with a huge car hauler trailer on the back of it. Especially if I’m having to drive it from Southeast Georgia to the panhandle of Texas. Not my cup of tea. City roads, road work, road closures, interstate driving, idiot drivers, and all the stupid shit that comes with driving across country truly stresses me out.
An eighteen hour drive is difficult for me in the best of times, so I must really love my Pop to be driving this for him. I knew I’d be stopping at a hotel overnight, so at the last fuel stop I made a reservation. A girl can only stress out so much in one day.
As my brother would say, my Pop ain’t raised no fool. I know that traveling alone as a single female makes me a target. Having long blonde hair, a thin waist, and a big booty doesn’t help my situation. So I’m taking precautions. I’ll keep my wits about me, as much as I can. I know I’m sluggish right now. I’ve driven ten hours today.
Chapter 2: Check In
Thank God, I’ve made it to the hotel! I park in the back lot, the only area large enough for my truck and trailer. The low budget hotel seems well-kept. The outside of the building seems recently painted. I pull my overnight bag from the passenger seat, jump way down to the ground, and instantly regret it.
I’ve been sitting in that seat for four hours straight. My legs and back are stiff and my bag was heavier than I realized. I grab the door and stand still for a moment, giving my legs a moment to adjust. I put my bag back in my seat and do a few gentle stretches; roll my shoulders, stretch my calves, reach up high, and stretch my quads. I’m really hoping the pool is decent, so I can loosen my muscles better.
I grab my bag, shut and lock my door, and then walk around the building. I see the pool tucked on the side, hidden from the front and side parking lot by tall bushes. The bushes are younger by the back lot, so I try to peek over them, but I’m too short. So as I pass by the gate, I stop and look through the bars. It’s a good size and looks well cleaned! Oh, yes! I’m going for a swim soon!
I walk around to the front. The doors slide open seamlessly. On the left is the check-in counter. I know my feet are dragging. I take a step in that direction, trying to keep my legs under me. A swim in the pool, a little over eight hours of sleep, a hearty breakfast, and about nine cups of coffee and I’ll be ready to get back on the road. I stop, feeling the need to check out the rest of my surroundings.
On the right are many chairs, coffee tables, and a couch all stylishly arranged. The little cafe area is behind it, tables and chairs evenly arranged, and the back wall has cabinets where they serve free breakfasts every morning.
Mercy me. Over at the coffee machine is a stunning specimen of a man. He has lean muscles, tattoos on both arms, dark hair, tanned skin, and a mischievous yet slightly dark air about him. His nose is a bit too big and his eyebrows are full, but the rest of him is almost model perfect. His eyes, when they notice me, definitely spark in interest.
Not going to lie, I could totally bite. The chemistry, and just from looking at him, is something that I’ve never felt before. I’ve met some sexy men. I’ve had a lot of fun with desirable guys, but never have I been this keenly interested in someone just from a look across the room.
But I’m not here for hooking up. I’m traveling alone. I can’t take the risk of letting someone in my room. I can’t be that vulnerable. I ain’t dumb, even though I look like a blonde bimbo, big tits and all.
I swallow my disappointment, give him a friendly half smile, and walk over to the counter. I realize that this gives him a fairly decent view of my ass, but there’s no other course of action. I imagine I can feel his eyes roaming over my figure.
An older lady sits behind the counter, reading an honest-to-god paperback novel. As I get close to the counter, she puts down her book and looks up at me.
“Hello! Do you have a reservation?” She asks congenially
“Yes, I do,” I say.
I realize she’s reading a very familiar book. A BDSM romance novel by one of my favorite authors. I smile a genuine smile, realizing that maybe I’ve found a like-minded individual.
“Wonderful author,” I comment, trying not to embarrass her.
“I agree!” she responds. She pulls up my reservation and confirms times and amenities and all the basic hotel check-in things.
“How many keys do you need? Your reservation says only 1 person?” she asks.
I realize the man has been paying attention to everything we’ve been saying, but these last two questions he’s been still, almost like a predator before they strike.
“I’ll need two keys. My boyfriend will be here in a little while,” I can’t help the southern twang in my voice. It always strengthens when I get nervous or tired.
She confirms, then slides over a sleeve with 2 keys in it. “Your room number is in there,” she side glances at the man, “and the WiFi password too.”
So she’s noticed him too.
I give her a thankful smile, relieved that she’s being attentive. A bit of my worry eases. A girl alone will take all the added protection she can get. I tell her my thanks and look at the building map. My room is on the first floor, three doors away from the pool entrance. Sweet! But, with the man standing there, interested in my next move, I decide to not head straight to my room.
I glance up at the woman, studying her face, hop
ing she’ll not correct me and out me to the sexy man as I go the wrong direction. I give her a tight smile; she returns a well-practiced concierge-type smile, and I turn away. I walk over to the elevator and press the button for the second floor.
I walk out of the elevator, down the hall, and down the stairs at the end of the building. Then make a beeline for my number, check the empty hallway, and enter my room. It’s clean and more than acceptable. The shower looks close to new! After going pee and putting up my hair, I strip down to change into my bathing suit.
Chapter 3: A Quick Dip
I know my appeal. I don’t need a two-piece, strappy little bikini to show off my curves. I know how sexy I am. A one piece, while modest, gives off just the right amount of sexiness to where I don’t have to fend off every swinging dick that glances my way. But those that are truly interested, those that can appreciate me while I’m covered, can pursue me.
I’ve taken the long road to discover myself sexually. For a while, I floundered. I wondered what I was doing wrong. I worried that something was wrong with me. I know I have a sexy body. I know I’m a good person and that people like to be around me.
But sex just wasn’t what I thought it should be. It was missing… lots. It was missing so much. Like, way too much. I somehow started reading smut. I wound up finding shit that my parents would have thought was disturbing. Things in the non consensual range. Power play. Bondage. Kink. All manner of filthy sexiness. I finally found the official term; BDSM. I researched, and I wanted.
So, I searched for a local club. Made some friends. Like I said, my Pop ain’t raised no fool, so I’ve been safe. I found a wonderful group of friends in a fantastic BDSM club and I’ve tried things. I’ve dabbled. I’ve got quite the new family in my BDSM club. They accept me with all my quirks, and I adore them in all their adventurous ways.
I slip my shoes back on, grab my phone, a towel, a water bottle, and one of my keys, and head down to the pool. I pick a chair near a table with some shade, sit down, take off my shoes, slip my phone and key into them, and slide them under the chair. My towel goes onto the chair. And into the pool I dive.
The afternoon sun is hot, but the pool is a wonderful temperature. And I have it all to myself! I swim to the deep end and enjoy a few laps. My muscles loosen and my aches decrease. Breathing heavily, enjoying the workout, I climb out of the pool for a drink from my water bottle. A tall man with short blonde hair stands in the back parking lot near the bushes, making use of a designated smoking area.
He smiles at me and asks, “How’s the pool?”
His face has a boyish quality to it, but something in his eyes makes me feel like prey. He seems to have a menacing aura. But he’s leaning against the cigarette butt disposal in a casual, uncaring way.
I distinctly feel under-dressed. I swallow and attempt to sound level.
“It’s good. Clean. A nice temperature,” I answer.
“Well, with that recommendation, I must enjoy it while I’m here,” he replies.
I smile, attempting to dismiss him, and turn to my water bottle. He’s watching me. I try to act nonchalant, but I can’t help but feel his eyes on me. I’m responding. I definitely have a thing for strong, domineering men. And this guy, along with the guy in the reception area, have alerted me to my desires. Dammit, I’m traveling. Alone. With no backup.
I finish my drink, feeling cornered, and dive back into the pool. Just a few quick laps, enough for him to walk away, and then I’ll head to my room. Sneak away where I can enjoy my vibrator for a few moments and then sleep.
I stop after two fast laps, knowing he probably hasn’t left yet, but already feeling too drained to keep up the fast pace. A shadow passes across my face, and I look up to see the sexy man from the foyer shucking off his shoes and setting a towel in a chair on the other side of the table from my chair.
Shit, shit, shit! Nope, too much temptation. The submissive in me is begging to see what buttons I can push to reveal more of their dominant natures. The rest of the man’s body matches what I’ve already seen. Tight, lean, sinewy muscles cover him. He has tattoos on his upper back, chest, and all of his right leg. All of him is a dark tan, and he obviously isn’t in the least bit shy. His navy blue swim shorts fit him perfectly. He prowls to the edge of the pool.
He glances at me, smirks, then jumps in.
And sluices silently through the water. So sleek and sexy.
And I’m drooling. Nitwit. I gather my tongue back into my mouth and turn to swim to the ladder. The blond man’s eyes meet mine. His lips lift in a half smirk, and his eyes gleam knowingly.
I feel my embarrassment heating my cheeks. To get caught like a teenager, ogling a mostly naked man, in a public pool? Geez, what a nympho I must look like. But you know what? He is sexy. And he is in a public place. And I have nothing to be ashamed of.
I keep my eyes on his, lifting my eyebrow, trying to look assured. It isn’t easy, because I don’t want to challenge the man, but I will not be a shrinking violet. I’m allowed to have sexual urges, just like they are. I climb up the ladder, ignoring him as he lifts his cigarette to his mouth. I take another drink of water, then walk to the stairs of the pool.
The man in the pool has propped himself up in one corner of the deep end, his arms hooked over the edge of the pool. His eyes seem only halfway open, but I know he’s watching me. And the other man is enjoying his cigarette, openly and lazily watching me.
I make a quick descent into the pool, intellectually uncomfortable with the situation, but feeling my core pulse in excitement.
Oh, my BDSM family will love this story. They’ll lean forward and listen, enraptured by the intrigue. Then be sorely disappointed and mourn with me at the actual ending. So boring and practical. But smart. And necessary. No one will join me in my room tonight, and I will not enter a stranger’s room. That would be irresponsible and dumb.
I wade to one end of the shallow end. A couple gentle laps and then I’ll retreat to my room.
“Hey man, how’s the water?” the smoker asks.
“Good. Clean. Cool.” the dark stranger responds.
Holy hell, they make small talk sound sexy.
“That’s what she said,” rumbles the tall guy.
“Ah, sexy and honest. Hey, beautiful, I’m Aluino. What’s your name?” asks the man from the lobby.
I pause in my stroke, look at him, and think for a moment. Telling them my name won’t hurt anything, but… I’m really not comfortable telling them my real name. And also, how awesome would it be to tell my BDSM friends that I gave them my submissive name?!
“Wren. And yours?” I say, looking at the blond man. They both look a tad bit surprised for a moment, maybe something passes between them, but neither of them looks away from me, so nothing could have actually occurred.
He pinches the ashes out of his cigarette and stuffs the butt into the disposal.
“Hansel. I am definitely not missing out on swimming in that pool. Especially after such high praise of it,” he partially growls, his long legs eating up the distance to the gate.
I try to swallow my heart back into my chest, then pretend to focus on swimming again.
But Hansel opens the gate, smoothly pulls off his shirt and starts toeing off his shoes. He drops his things into a chair near the entrance.
Yup, I’m totally gawking at him. His muscles are… very well defined. Not quite as bulky as a bodybuilder, but he has a six-pack. A damn six-pack, on a man that’s taller than anyone has a right to be, with thick legs and strength radiating from him.
I can’t handle this. I might combust.
I know Aluino is watching my face. I know I need to look away from Hansel’s body, but DAMN! Aluino began the small embers when I first walked into the building, and now Ansel is adding fuel to the inferno.
Hasty retreat! I need a hasty retreat. My BDSM family will laugh and taunt me for forever, but they’ll understand. I’m usually good at self control, but this situation is more than I’m equipped
to deal with. I drove for ten hours, I’m beyond stressed, and I have no safety net. No one to protect me from dangers. No one to check on me. No dungeon monitors or friends nearby. No one to save me from myself.
But I realize a quick retreat isn’t doable. Hansel has already blocked my exit with his sexy, masculine body. He stands at the top of the stairs, checking the pockets of his shorts. Once he deems his pockets empty, he steps down. He wades into the pool, a low noise of appreciation rumbling from his throat.
That noise of pleasure… I’m losing my grip on sanity. Was that unconscious or did he do it on purpose? Is he taunting me? Seriously, that shockingly arousing noise will haunt me tonight, laying all alone in my hotel bed.
I could stand up and walk around him. But getting closer doesn’t seem wise. So I continue to stay lowered in the water, wading even though I can touch the bottom. I slowly glide backwards, putting as much space between myself and Hansel as I can without looking conspicuous.
“You were right. This water is great,” Hansel idly comments, standing in the shallow end.
The water barely comes up to his waist, while on me it comes almost to mid-chest!
His attention snaps to me, and it’s like my little subbie innards cannot resist. His intent gaze, his zeroed in focus, his purposeful movements of a moment ago, all make my insides melt. I want his touch. His attention. His will. His desires.
“How did you learn to swim like you were earlier? With your face in the water?” he asks, sinking into the water and moving closer. He hasn’t looked away, holding me captive.
For a moment I don’t hear the words. The questions aren’t meaningful, just sounds garbled together. I’m so deep in my submissive side that it takes a second for me to bring myself back to my real-world person. To answer his questions.
Danger! Like, seriously, what the hell?! This is unacceptable. I pull myself together by sheer force of will.
