by Johnson, Cat
She whimpered when he slid two fingers past her entrance and settled his thumb over her clit. Her body was so responsive. And he loved the way she whimpered and moaned as he touched her and worked her into a frenzy. His fingers worked in and out of her tight pussy as his thumb brushed her clit in firm motions.
“Mitch, Sir. Fuck. I’m coming,” she bit out just as he felt the walls of her pussy clench his fingers. She didn’t need to announce her orgasm, he felt it.
Her body trembled and her nipples pebbled into hard nubs as the pleasure washed over her. He continued to work his fingers in and out until the tremors subsided. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he wrapped himself in a condom and spread her thighs wide.
“Get ready, baby,” he said, his eyes drifting shut as the head of his thick erection rested against her opening.
He eased into her, and she moaned as he filled and stretched her. “God, you feel good,” she said.
If possible, her words made him hungrier for her. When he’d settled into her and they were both comfortable, he pulled out and slammed into her. She gasped and gripped the bedspread beneath her as he repeated the motion. Soon he was pounding into her with a punishing rhythm. The sounds of their fucking filled the room, cries of pleasure, gasps, skin slapping skin. It wasn’t long before Mitch found himself on the brink of losing control.
“Give it to me,” she pleaded between cries of pleasure.
He liked that Amalia had a voice in the bedroom. Most other women didn’t say anything as he fucked them unless he prodded or commanded it of them.
He gave in to her pleas and gripped her thighs tighter as he felt the impending release grow. “Amalia,” he called out as fell over the edge.
She was still breathing heavy when he eased out of her and lay beside her.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “I guess we didn’t really need a safeword for that. I was going to have a proper scene with you before I fucked you like a horny teenager.”
Amalia giggled and curled into his chest. “Horny teenagers don’t know how to do what you just did. And I think there will be other opportunities for kinky fun.”
His heart leapt at her words. She was saying there was hope.
6
Amalia lay in bed watching Mitch sleep. They’d spent every night together since Monday, and although her film crew was wrapping up tonight with the grand reopening, she couldn’t imagine leaving him.
How had she gotten so attached to this man? The truth was, she’d been attached to him since that night four years ago. Her life had changed so much since then, but her desire for the carnal pleasures Mitch offered her hadn’t changed a bit.
Could she make a relationship work with him? It would have to stay under wraps until she could get out of her contract with the studio that made Bar on the Rocks, but that was only another six months. Surely, they could keep things quiet for that long.
They’d spent the week exploring their Dom/sub dynamic. Her face warmed as she thought of last night when he’d bound her on the bed, so her legs were spread wide and her pussy was on display. Of course, he’d bound her arms so she couldn’t put them in the way of his own hands and toys and had spent more than an hour teasing and tormenting her. It had been everything she missed about BDSM and more.
When they were done playing, he told her he wanted to take her to Solitaire, the kink club he was a part of. But she wasn’t sure she was ready to get back in the kink scene after things ended with her last Dom. She hadn’t told Mitch who it was yet, and she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to. Of course, if they were going to have any kind of Dom/sub dynamic, she would have to be open with him. BDSM relationships were built on honesty and communication.
She rolled on to her side to get a better look at him, and his eyes fluttered open.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said in a teasing tone.
He mumbled unintelligibly but rolled until he’d rolled her over and was on top of her.
She felt his cock against her thigh and hummed. “Maybe not such a sleepyhead after all.”
He dipped a hand between them and found her aching clit. “Good morning,” he said as he massaged the sensitive button. “We don’t have a lot of time, are you going to be a good girl and come for me?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said with a moan as she felt pleasure bubble.
The orgasm crashed into her moments later and he was inside of her before the tremors stopped. When they were in the shower, she wrapped her arms around him and said, “I was thinking I might not go home right away after we wrap filming.”
He grew still and let her hug him but said nothing at first.
“Mitch? Is that OK?” she asked when he still didn’t respond.
“Of course, it’s OK,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “I was just processing that. Baby, I want you with me all the time.”
“I know. And I want that too. We have a lot to discuss, but we’ll make it work.”
He crushed her lips in a searing kiss. “Oh, Amalia. You’ve made me so happy. I was worried this week was all I would have with you.”
She rested her head against his chest and let the warm shower water pour over them for a few minutes before they finally agreed they needed to get out and get to the bar to finish the final day of filming.
7
Mitch felt like he could tackle the world as he drove to the bar that morning. Amalia insisted on riding with the crew and made him leave after they did because she still didn’t want them seen together. He respected that, but he had half a mind to kiss her in front of everyone the minute filming wrapped. Of course, that was the wrong thing to do since her contract wasn’t up for another six months.
He had an idea for how to get her out of it early but wasn’t sure how she would feel about him interfering, so he would wait until the show was done to talk to her about it. For now, he was going to see what they’d done with his bar.
The film crew and other producers ran the unveiling of the remodel, and he was told Amalia would be on set later to be part of the grand reopening. He was disappointed to not have her with him while he toured the remodeled bar.
The remodel was incredible. He had no idea if Amalia had a hand in the design, but it suited him and the bar to a T. They’d also renamed the bar. It was no longer The Outpost. Amalia convinced him Twisted Pour better suited the vibe he wanted from the bar.
When the tour of the bar was done, it was time for them to film the staff getting ready for the grand reopening. All the locals had been invited, and Mitch was hoping Hunter would be on time. There was a party at Solitaire tonight, but Hunter was going to stop by the bar for the reopening before he went. Amalia wasn’t ready for a trip to the club, so Mitch planned to take her back to her hotel for their own private kink party.
Amalia had confided in him that the main reason she chose to be the producer for this episode was because of Hunter’s connection to it. She hoped to impress him enough to help her land on her feet when her contract ended, and she chose not to renew it. The least Mitch could do was set her up with a face-to-face meeting.
It was four in the afternoon, and the bar would be opening at six. He had some time to steal Amalia into his office for a few minutes. When he didn’t find her in the main bar area, he strode through the front of the bar, heading for the hallway that led to his office and the storage room. He started to call her name when he heard a familiar voice from the storage room. He stepped closer to listen.
“I saw you with him last night. He went to your room. Do you know what I could do to you for violating your contract?”
It was Rick, the supposed star of the show. Mitch hadn’t liked him from the moment he met him. In fact, he’d spent most of this stupid process wanting to punch the man. Was he talking to Amalia?
He listened harder for a response but couldn’t make it out.
Rick continued, “If you hadn’t been so emotional and taken your collar off, you might not be in this situation.”
Mitch froze. Was Rick
the Dom Amalia had walked away from the lifestyle over? Had he been harassing her ever since? His mind was racing, but he heard Amalia practically shout at Rick.
“You fucking tried to force me to sleep with two of your employees while you filmed it, and then you punished me when I said no. Of course, I fucking took my collar off. Ours was an unethical relationship from the beginning, anyway.”
He wanted to bust down the storage room door and throw Rick out on his ass. But he had Amalia to think about. She could handle herself, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make Rick’s life a living hell when this show was done.
He heard someone touching the storage room door handle, so he backed up and into his office just in time to watch Amalia storm down the hallway cursing under her breath. Mitch shut his door and sat at his desk to make some phone calls. By the time he was done, it was time to get ready to film. People were lined up and ready to flood the bar, and Hunter Novak was among the first in line.
Mitch stood next to Rick seething on the inside as he plastered on a formal smile and greeted the guests. After doing the required glad handing, he stepped behind the bar and pulled Amalia away from where she was observing the bartenders.
“Come on. I want to introduce you to someone.”
He tugged her in Hunter’s direction despite her protests.
“Hunter, this is Amalia, the woman I’m madly in love with. Amalia, this is Hunter Novak.”
Amalia whirled to face him head on. “Did you just say…?” she trailed off and didn’t finish her question.
“I did. And I’m about to kiss you too.”
He wrapped her into his arms and crushed his mouth to hers.
“Mitch,” she squeaked when he pulled away. “The cameras.”
“Were turned off fifteen minutes ago. It’s nice to meet you, Amalia. If you two will excuse me, I have someone to fire and Amalia, I’d like to have a word with you when this is over.”
“What’s going on?”
“Hunter just happens to own a lot of stock in your studio’s parent company, and he’s about to fire Rick. I overheard you in the storage room with him.”
She sagged against his chest and he thought he felt tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you it was him.”
He leaned back and looked down at her. “It’s fine, sweet Amalia. You were under a lot of pressure. We’re going to fix your problem with him, and then you’ll be free to do whatever you want regarding the show. But I meant it. I love you. I’m in this. Are you?”
She hugged him tighter. “I’m in this. I love you too.”
He crushed his mouth to hers again and swore he would never let her go.
Epilogue
“Ready to take the next step?” Mitch asked Amalia as they drove up a winding mountain road.
“I’m so ready,” she said, feeling a hum of excitement in her stomach.
Mitch and Amalia had spent the last three months touring the bars he owned with Hunter while they waited for the fallout from Rick’s firing to pass. It was a story that rocked the entertainment industry, a beloved reality star being fired for sexual harassment. But Hunter had kept her out of it. She offered to make her story public, but he’d assured her there was no need to sacrifice her privacy. And now he was giving her a job.
But none of that mattered. Right now, they were finally heading to a place Mitch referred to as his second home. She’d been hesitant to go because she was enjoying being in their little cocoon, but she also wanted to experience the things and places that made Mitch happiest. Though he assured her repeatedly that she was what made him happiest. Mitch parked the car and came to her door to open it.
Together they walked up the stairs of a tall porch where Mitch pulled open the door. “Welcome to Club Solitaire, future Mrs. Hartley.”
She looked down at the ring on her finger and grinned. “It’s good to finally be here, Sir.”
About the Author
Ivy Nelson writes delicious contemporary romance with kinky alpha heroes and sassy heroines you wish could be your best friend. Club Solitaire is her favorite fictional place to hang out in, and she spends most of her free time spinning tales set there. When she isn’t writing, she’s probably reading something dirty or drinking wine with her readers on Facebook.
Ivy’s Website: www.ivynelsonbooks.com
Ivy’s Newsletter: www.ivynelsonbooks.com/newsletter
Lost Raven
Diana A. Hicks
He had nothing to lose, until he met her.
1
The Barrel of Her Gun
Massimo
Street racing was a highly lucrative endeavor. Unfortunately, it was also illegal. I shifted gears, focusing on the finish line about a quarter of a mile away. The crowd cheered from the sidelines, and for a moment, their energy filled me with a sense of purpose. Of course, the rush and the feeling of being alive, never lingered long—not since Mom had died a couple of years ago.
I gripped the steering wheel of Mikey's Toyota Supra, a little race car that hugged the asphalt just right. When I took on the last turn, the familiar psychedelic dance of the police lights flooded the inside of the vehicle.
"Motherfucker," I blurted out over the loud techno beat of the speakers.
With a quick glance at my opponent one lane over, I shook my head once and drifted off the road. We weren't done. We just needed to shake the cops first. Those were the rules. As per our contingency plan, I took the second right, which landed me on a quiet residential avenue lined with two-story, Craftsman style homes.
A woman on a rooftop waved a checkered flag in my direction. I figured she was part of the crew so I pulled into her private driveway. The cacophony of revving engines, sirens blaring in the distance, and a goddamn helicopter giving chase matched the thumping of my racing heart while I waited for her to come down.
Where the hell was I? Two nights ago, I’d been piss drunk on my brother's yacht in Ibiza. I had a vague recollection of agreeing to do a drag race for my friend Mikey. After what seemed like a few hours, we were landing in Atlanta. Had that been this morning? The days kept blending one into the other. I swore the same techno tune playing now had also been jamming on the boat and on the jet ride here.
I killed the ignition and stepped out of the car to greet my guardian angel. When I stepped into the light, her green eyes went big in surprise. A pretty pink rushed to her cheeks as she ogled me from head to toe. She bit her bottom lip, shooting a glance at the hood of the racer.
I grinned at the ground, and then flashed her what I had been told was one of my panty-melting smiles. My stomach dropped, though, when instead of finding those gorgeous eyes again, I came face-to-face with the barrel of her gun.
"Who the hell are you?" Her voice was smooth and sexy. "Where's my brother?"
"I'm sorry, who?" I raised my hands in surrender. One, because it was the universal sign for, "I don't want any trouble," but also, because she looked like she really wanted to shoot me. "Hi, I'm Massimo Alfera." I offered her my hand.
She knitted her brows and tightened her grip on her weapon. "Where is Zack?"
"Zack?" I racked my brain for the name, but nothing came to mind. In truth, it was hard to think with her standing there looking like some blonde goddess, pointing a nine-millimeter at me. Who would’ve thought that could be such a turn-on? "I don't know Zack."
"Then what the fuck are you doing with his car?"
Fucking Mikey.
"Maybe it just looks like his Supra." I had seen other Toyotas similar to this one at the starting line.
"Cut the bullshit. I built that car."
"Really? Wow. That's a real nice ride."
"My brother?"
"Long story there." I took in her scent and cool energy. "Unfortunately, I don't have time to tell it to you right now. I have a race to win." I gave her a charming smirk.
She puffed out an indignant breath that told me exactly how she felt about my flirting tactics. "I don't think so."
When she shuffled
toward me, her foot kicked a beer can. The sudden noise startled her and pulled her attention away from me. I jumped on the opportunity—grabbed her wrist and disarmed her. Of course she immediately came at me swinging. As entertaining as all this banter was, I had to head over to Freedom Parkway and finish. Whatever Mikey had going on with Zack, the alleged owner of the vehicle, I had a reputation to maintain.
In a fluid motion I had done a million times before, I leaned slightly sideways to avoid her fist, stepped right, caught her arm, and swung her around, so she landed hard against my chest. And fuck me if her body didn't feel good.
"I would love to stay and continue this conversation, but like I said, I gotta go." I bent down and threw her over my shoulder.
"Are you insane?" She wiggled her body, uttering a string of profanities.
I strode inside her house, through a long and wide hallway that led to her living room on the opposite end. She clawed at me, until I unceremoniously dropped her on her sofa.
"Now be a good girl and stay."
If looks could kill, I would've dropped dead on the spot from the furious glare she shot my way. I put both arms up to show her I meant her no harm. Her fierce gaze never left mine as I sauntered back toward the front entrance. Outside, I left her gun on the front porch, smiling like an idiot. My heart pumped hard with a kind of excitement I hadn’t felt in years. Shit. I didn't even get her name.
By the time I returned to the second racing venue, the helicopter and cop cars had ceased their chase. I lined up at the starting line, looking for Mikey in the crowd. What the hell had he gotten me into? I’d known him since first grade. He was a good friend, but he could be a total asshole sometimes.
