Best Seller

by Delta James

  Best Seller

  Delta James

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Untitled

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

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  Chapter 1

  The next two days were spent wrapped in the sensual cocoon Fergus wove around me. Over and over again, he reached for me, drawing me under him before mounting me and tapping into my deeply hedonistic nature. Several times, I had been confronted by the alpha knot at the base of his cock, but each time he had suppressed it. It was an angry, fearsome thing, and I knew if he forced it inside me, I would be split asunder.

  I was sleeping, sprawled across his body, when he maneuvered me onto my back, growling low and seductively. My body had come to respond in a very visceral way. Fergus’ mouth descended onto mine, capturing it as he surged forward. I was unprepared for the sharp pain as the strength of his thrust forced the unrepressed knot up inside me. I screamed into his mouth as my pussy tightened around him in a new way.

  He held me tight, preventing evasion on my part, then stilled. My pussy clamped down as he kissed me and murmured words of love and encouragement. How could he talk of love to me? I feared I had lost myself to him, wanting to believe, but I knew better. I was merely one of the spoils of war. My sheath began to relax and accommodate his knot…

  The buzzer from the front gate to her rambling mansion on North Carolina’s Outer Banks interrupted her stream of thought.

  “Shit!” she groaned, picking up her cell phone and pulling up the app.

  Her publisher, Gail Vincent, was looking in the camera with a pinched look on her face. Gail often had a sour expression. She glanced at the antique mantle clock on her desk. And shit again! It was only eight in the morning.

  Sage Matthews answered her cell, an embarrassed smile on her face. “Hi, Gail. Uhm… I’m not ready.”

  “I figured.” Gail fussed, not able to hide the roll of her eyes. “That’s why I came early. Did you look at the things I sent over?”

  “Well, uhm, no…”

  “For God’s sake, Sage, open the damn gate. You seriously need a keeper—someone who stays out here and takes care of you.”

  “I have a housekeeper. Selma comes in once a week with her husband, Jerry. She cleans the inside while he does the outside,” she said, pressing the button that would open the gate.

  “Why on earth did you have to move to the middle of fucking nowhere? Why not stay in D.C., maybe get a place in Georgetown? Or Chicago? You always like it when we go to Chicago. Better yet, a nice loft here in New York maybe either in SoHo or Tribeca.”

  “I like my house, Gail. It’s quiet, I can ramble around, and if I want to play music and dance around naked at three in the morning, there’s no one to tell me no. I even have a private beach.”

  “That you won’t let me take advantage of and throw an exclusive party. If you’re going to have the damn thing, you should at least make use of it for your business. On my way…” Gail said as she drove her rented Mercedes up the drive.

  Sage saved her paranormal novel and pulled up the latest Roark Samuels.

  They were back in the beach cottage in Monaco. There were no more kidnappers or assassins… just Melinda in a summery dress outside the glittering international Mecca known as Monte Carlo. Earlier in the day, Roark Samuels had killed the two assassins sent to dispose of the beautiful heiress. It was time she learned the consequences of not following orders… specifically his. Roark grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her over his muscular thighs. Pinning her in place with one hand, he pressed her shoulder blades down. Using his other, he rucked up the light, flimsy summer frock she was wearing, then caressed her shapely, ivory bottom.

  Raising his hand, he brought it crashing down on her upturned backside. Melinda yowled and cursed at him, but Roark was enjoying what he was quite certain was a long, overdue punishment for her actions. Over and over, he spanked her rapidly-coloring globes and could feel her cool skin beginning to heat from his harsh strikes.

  “Such a pretty bottom. Shame it has to get turned a bright shade of red because you couldn’t do what you were told. When I get done with your spanking, it’s going to feel really good when I’m pumping my hips into it as I give you a good, hard fucking.”

  “Roark, you bastard, let me go!” she cried.

  “Now, now, Melinda. Good girls accept their punishment when they’ve been naughty. Running away from home, then getting us into this situation, definitely qualifies as naughty.”

  With that admonishment, Roark continued to inflict a considerable amount of pain across her backside. Silence, except for the sound of his hand spanking her ass and the constant roar of the surf outside, filled the room. The longer and harder he spanked her, the stiffer his cock became. Melinda needed this spanking almost as much as he needed to give it to her.

  “You think you can apologize to me and behave yourself?”

  “Yes, please stop, Roark. I’m sorry,” she said meekly.

  He smiled. The sound of a woman’s submission was sweet. He rubbed her reddened globes to acknowledge her acceptance of his dominance. When she tried to rise, he fisted her hair, dragging her up and bending her over the end of the bed he’d been sitting on. Without another word, he unfastened his pants and allowed his cock to jut away from his groin through the open fly. Stepping behind her, he spread her legs.

  Roark guided his cock to her sheath before thrusting forward ferociously, forcing himself deep within her core and extracting a powerful climax from her. He grunted with satisfaction. He held her in place, wrapping one hand tightly around her hip and using the other to grasp the nape of her neck to press her down into the mattress as he took long, deep strokes.

  Each time he drew back, the loss of being buried in her wet heat made him crave plunging back into her depths. Each time he drove forward, he swore he could feel the end of her sheath with the head of his shaft. He knew there was no escape for her from his relentless thrusting. He needed her to accept he was the one doing the fucking, and she was the one being fucked.

  Roark’s cock stroked her over and over as he grunted and groaned in feral and primal satisfaction. Her body convulsed, her pussy contracting all along his length in the same rhythm that stroked her heated channel. He could feel her capitulation to his pleasure as well as to his dominance.

  “Come for me!” he bellowed like an enraged bull as he thrust in and out.

  She screamed his name as she toppled over the edge of ecstasy. He thrust into her three more times before his cock erupted, emptying his essence into her. When he was finished, he withdrew, his cock dripping the last of his seed.

  Jesus, Roark, you’re such a bastard, thought Sage.

  Roark Samuels was the romantic hero of Sage’s wildly popular erotic suspense series. The first novel was meant to be a standalone. When it shot to the top of all the best seller lists, her publisher, Gail Vincent, demanded she make it into a series. Now, her readers wouldn’t allow her to bring it to an end.

  She often remarked she spent more time with Roark than with anyone else. The crossover success of the novels wasn’t all sunshine and lollipops. The better they sold, the higher the demand, which had taken its toll on her personal life. Her fiancé had broken off their engagement, she had been asked to leave her day job as a paralegal for a conservative D.C. law firm, and she’d gained twenty pounds. Her author persona had become far removed from who she really was, but it not only paid the bills, it had also allowed her to become a full-time author and buy a ramblin
g mansion on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. She was seen as a hard-driving, dominant woman who lived alone and liked it that way—yet nothing could have been further from the truth.

  Sage laughed as she read the next to the last scene, taking a sip of Diet Coke and popping a piece of caramel corn in her mouth. Standing, she stretched, then trotted out of what had once been a solarium when her home had been built in the late 1800s. It was one of the first remodeling projects she’d taken on, much to her contractor’s dismay. Sage had converted it into her office and had all the glass replaced with glass that could withstand a hurricane. Not only did Sage love to write there when there were clear, sunny skies with billowy clouds overhead, but adored it even more when the weather was dark and stormy. But then, Sage was something of a storm child.

  “Hey, Gail!” she said, entering the foyer just as Gail stomped in.

  “Please tell me you took a shower and washed your hair…”

  Sage shook her head and grinned. “Nice to see you, too.”

  “For God’s sake, Sage, you have a signing at the Huntington. We need to get there and get you set up.”

  “The signing isn’t until tomorrow. I’ll get up early in the morning…”

  “Do you even read the attachments to the emails I send you?”

  “I read the emails,” Sage said sheepishly.

  Gail rolled her eyes again. “There is a reception this evening, then you’re hosting a Meet the Author breakfast, you have a panel with some of the other more notable authors, lunch, then the VIP signing, followed by the regular one. You need to get dressed in something presentable,” Gail said as she steered Sage up the grand staircase toward the master bedroom.

  “How about if you take the books and swag now? I’ll get dressed and drive in by myself. You always like it when I make an entrance with the roadster.”

  Gail nodded, and Sage sensed she might be able to avoid a seven-hour tirade about how awful North Carolina was and how ungrateful Sage was for all Gail did. The fact was, Sage was grateful, but always kept in mind Gail was well paid for her services. She had long ago come to the conclusion that Gail was over-stressed and a complete control freak. Since most of the time that worked in Sage’s favor, she usually just put up with it.

  “I promise to be there by six-thirty, then I’ll change in the room. I’ll even let you pick out my clothing for the event.”

  “Who the hell else would do it? You really need a personal assistant—someone to run your schedule, pack for you, make appointments, run errands, etc.”

  “I like living alone,” Sage said quietly.

  Gail stopped and put a hand on her arm. “I know Derek leaving you was a shock. I hope he realizes what an idiot he was. Leaving before he married you and you made it big was just stupid.”

  “I’d like to think he would have married me because he loved me, not just for the possible divorce settlement, but I guess I have to appreciate that he recognized he couldn’t handle it and broke it off.”

  “Appreciate?” Gail snorted. “The little weasel got embarrassed…”

  “My books aren’t for everybody, Gail, and I respect that. In any event, I have all the books and swag ready to go.”

  “Fine. It’s probably better if you just swoop in. That ought to intimidate the other authors…”

  “I don’t want to intimidate people…”

  “Why ever not? It allows you to command respect and kowtowing from the hotel, and it lends to your aura as the fabulous and slightly mysterious romance author.” Gail made short work of packing her clothing. “I’m going to leave your makeup here and arrange for someone to get you ready for tonight and in the morning.”

  Eight hours later, Sage pulled up to the hotel in her vintage Rolls Royce roadster at precisely six-thirty. It had been her big splurge when her first Roark Samuels novel had hit big. The antique mansion was the second. It was a good thing they continued to sell well since both were damned expensive to keep up.

  The concierge rushed out to greet her. “Ms. Matthews, how lovely to see you again. Ms. Vincent told us to expect you. Can I have your car parked and show you to your room?”

  “Thank you so much,” she said. Sage turned on a brilliant smile and waved as she walked over to the small crowd of readers who had gathered.

  “Hi, guys! I have to run up to my room to get ready for the party, but I’m happy to sign anything you want when I come back down and during or after the party.”

  “Sage? Is Roark ever going to fall in love… really in love?” called one.

  “Yeah, Roark needs his own happily ever after,” said another.

  “I’m not sure Roark knows anything about love other than how to spell it, although it isn’t his favorite four-letter word. See y’all later,” she called as the concierge bustled her inside and accompanied her to her suite on the ground level.

  Gail met her at the door and ushered her inside, closing the door in the concierge’s face.

  “Gail, that was rude,” Sage said quietly.

  “The concierge is fine, and we need to get you ready. I got here early enough to pick up something for each of us for tonight. I found you the most beautiful LBD…”

  “LBD?”

  “Little Black Dress. It will be very slimming. Then, when I thought about what I brought, they would have clashed in style, so I picked up something for me.”

  Sage hid a knowing smile. Gail often found ways to justify Sage picking up the tab for something she wanted for herself. Sage allowed herself to be led to where the makeup artist and hairstylist were waiting and sat so they could begin their work.

  “I’m going to lay out your dress and accessories. I have a key to your suite, so you won’t need anything. I’ve arranged for them to run a tab for you all weekend, so all you need to do is sign. I don’t want you to have to carry anything with you. You’re so awkward when you try to manage a cocktail clutch and anything else.”

  “Thanks, Gail. You go on. I’ll be fine, and I promise to be on time.”

  “Not on time, Sage, thirty minutes late.” Gail leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I’ve arranged for one of the cover models to wait for you outside the door to be your plus one at the party. He’s promised to be most attentive.”

  Sage rolled her eyes. I wonder what that’s going to set me back? Gail often spent Sage’s money like water through a sieve, but Gail’s publicity and marketing had been an integral part of the success of the novels. So usually, Sage just took a deep breath and paid the bills.

  As requested, Sage was thirty minutes late and smiled when she saw the model. Terrance had never graced the cover of one of her novels, but over the years they had become friends. Oddly, Roark had always been an illustration as opposed to a photo.

  “Hey, Sage,” he said, taking her arm and leaning down to kiss her cheek.

  “Terrance, it’s good to see you. How’s Max?”

  “He’s great. We really enjoyed the murder mystery train tickets.”

  “Oh, good. I thought you might. I know it’s kind of geeky…”

  “And we’re your favorite nerdy gay couple,” he laughed.

  Terrance was good company, and Sage was glad that if Gail felt she had to have arm candy, she had at least picked someone enjoyable.

  They entered the party, which was already in full swing. As these things went, it was well organized and pretty swanky. Everyone was dressed to the nines, although no formal wear. Hotel staff had been pressed into service, not only serving drinks and hors d’oeuvres but staffing a table at the back where a selection of the attending authors’ books was set up and being sold.

  “It looks like only four of us have books available,” Sage said.

  Terrance laughed. “Only those of you who sponsored the party have books available. Honestly, Sage, do you even pay attention to what Gail signs you up for?”

  “Not really.”

  She and Terrance mingled with the throng of admirers. This was Sage’s second favorite part of being a suc
cessful author. Unlike for many authors who were painfully shy introverts, signing events were Sage’s crack cocaine. She absolutely loved connecting with her readers on a personal level. Her favorite was the messages from readers about how her work had touched them, inspired them, entertained them. Knowing there were those who appreciated, even treasured what she did, made the doing all that much sweeter, and what it had cost her—a fiancé, a job, friends—worth it.

  Gail shouldered her way through the crowd gathered around her and Terrance.

  “Sweetie, there’s a few people I need you to meet,” she said to Sage, leading her away.

  Sage turned back to those who had books and pens in their hands. “I’ll be back and stay as long as you want me to sign your books. You can ogle Terrance all you want, but no touching.”

  Terrance grinned at her and was quickly surrounded.

  “I don’t know why you bother with those people…”

  “Because they buy my books, because they took their hard-earned money and time to attend this event, and because without them, I wouldn’t be able to make a living doing something I love.”

  Sage spent the next two hours rubbing elbows with some of the elite of the publishing world. Gail wanted to expand her readership beyond erotic romance and was even shopping one of her ideas around for a movie. There was a touch on her shoulder, and she spun around, the color leaving her face.

  “Hello, Sage,” Derek, her ex-fiancé, said.

  “Derek. I’m surprised to see you,” she said, keeping her voice devoid of emotion.

  “You look good.”

  “I’ve gained some weight. You look great.”

  He really did, but then he always did. He woke up looking perfect. All he had to do was run his hands through his perfectly cut hair and it fell into place—unlike hers, which looked as if she’d just gotten laid… not that that was necessarily a bad look.