by Delta James
Gail liked to tease her about her penchant for dressing up when there was nobody home, confessing she often stayed in her pajamas if she didn’t go into her office. Sage figured she was the only one there, so it didn’t matter if others thought her weird. There was something about singing and dancing around the large space, especially at night under the stars, which helped her think.
He watched her dance. He loved when she danced in the solarium—a private show just for him. Once or twice, she’d forsaken the lingerie and danced naked. He watched as she swung her body around and moved gracefully across the floor. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t think she could dance. He’d heard her say to herself and others that she moved like an ungainly foal on a set of roller skates. But she was wrong. She had an innate beauty, style, and sense of rhythm that made her an excellent dancer. Like many things, Sage’s shortcomings were all in her head. He’d love to take her dancing—someplace dark with soft, sultry music, so he could press her body against his. He longed to have her in his embrace, her arms wrapped around his neck, hip-to-hip as his hands cupped her ass, holding her close, but more than that, he wanted her naked and in his bed.
Even thinking of Sage naked was enough to make his recalcitrant cock aching and hard. She was so fucking hot and so completely ignorant of that fact. The idiot she had once been engaged to was a fool. A woman like Sage was a rare and marvelous creature to be cherished. He knew she hadn’t had sex with a man in a while, and he was much larger than her vibrator. He wanted to lay her down, spread her legs, and make a place for himself there, shoving his cock balls deep up inside her.
Watching her, he wrapped his hand around his shaft and began to stroke, sweeping his hand from its weeping head all the way back to its root. He needed to maintain control. He’d managed to manipulate the phone system in a way that when her fence was breached, he had the security company come out and convince her she needed to upgrade her system.
God, how he’d wanted to put her over his knee and spank her gorgeous ass when she’d refused to call the cops. Granted, the police at the signing event had been less than helpful, but she had to know the deputy sheriff with the puppy-dog eyes here in her hometown would have believed her. Neither Sage nor the deputy had figured out how he found out about the breach. The deputy might be attractive, but he was dumb as a rock and not at all what Sage wanted—he wasn’t always sure Sage knew what she wanted.
Now she’d received a letter. It had unsettled her, and thankfully, the deputy had followed her back to the house after she received it. She’d scanned and sent it to Gail, so he knew what it said. “You have been warned. Your filth must be stopped!” Her note to Gail had said there had been no return address, but the postmark showed it had been sent from Hilton Head. Sage didn’t know anyone who lived there.
She tried to hit a high note and missed. He groaned, only partly in response to the sensations his cock continued to experience from his ministrations. Sage could be taught to be a wonderful dance partner, but she would never be able to sing. There were a number of things he wanted to teach her—how to shiver from his whisper of her name along her skin, how to climax just from his mounting her, and how to call him Daddy when she came.
He increased the speed of his stroke, closing his eyes and imagining how much better it would feel if it was Sage’s pussy spasming all up and down his length. He would spread her thighs, hooking them in his elbows so she had nowhere to hide. She would learn she belonged to him, and he would look and play with whatever he liked, whenever he liked, and as often as he liked. He would make her take everything he had to give her, holding nothing back, and screaming her need for him when he’d forced numerous climaxes from her body as he filled her pussy to overflowing.
As his imagination ran rampant, his body stiffened, and his warm, creamy seed spilled out, covering his fist. He pumped until he’d emptied himself. When he was finally done, his muscles relaxed, and his breathing returned to normal. He had to find a way to get to her. They would be so good together.
“Let’s see, Roark, what should I have you do to this one? The readers love it when they sass you, and you feed them your cock after spanking them, then fucking them from behind. I don’t think you’ve taken one of their asses that way in a while. Now, what should she do, and where should she do it…”
Sage cackled. As usual, her physical release, singing, and dancing had helped immensely. The words started to flow. She loved when the writing came so easily, she could barely type fast enough to keep up with the words as they came into her head, describing the scene. Sage turned up the music and typed, absorbed in the work, and the hours sped by. By the time she looked up, dawn was beginning to creep over the horizon.
She hit save and stood, stretching her arms overhead and arching side to side. She kissed her fingertips and pressed them to her favorite Roark Samuels’ cover she’d had made into a piece of stretched canvas art.
“I’ll see you later, Roark,” she said, and headed up to her bedroom to take a shower.
When Sage’s cell phone rang, she glanced at the caller ID and sighed. It was Gail. Sage knew if she ignored her, Gail would just call back.
“Well?” Gail said without preliminaries.
“I’m almost done. Just wrote the last sex scene. I need to do a wrap up where he hands the heiress off to her wimpy fiancé, and she longingly watches him walk off into the sunset. It should be done before the end of the day.” Taking a deep breath, she continued. “This is the last Roark Samuels novel… at least for a while. I thought I’d take a little vacation and start a new paranormal series.”
“You live at the beach. How much more vacation do you need? As for that silly werewolf idea…”
“Not werewolves, wolf-shifters,” she said, enthusiastic about sharing her idea. “There’s no tortured transition into some grotesque, misbegotten shape, just one minute you’re human, then a kind of shimmer, then you’re a wolf…”
“Whatever. Roark Samuels sells. You can do a vanity project next year.”
“It’s not a vanity project, Gail. I need to grow as an author, to hone my craft—”
“For Christ’s sake, Sage, Roark pays the bills.”
“The books are predictable. Sometimes, it feels like all that changes are the names and the locales… well, more than that. I mean, I work really hard to keep things fresh and always keep them guessing about what’s going to happen, but they are becoming a bit formulaic.”
“People like predictable. They know what to expect from you. It can’t be that taxing. Hell, Sage, anyone could write them. It’s not like you’re ever going to be the next Nora Roberts. You simply don’t have that kind of talent, but few do.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t want to be Nora Roberts or any other romance writer. I like being me and fortunately for both of us, so do my readers.”
They had this argument each time Sage neared the completion of a novel. In the end, she always capitulated and did what Gail wanted—without Gail, she would never have had a career, something Gail always reminded her of—but the other characters in her head were vying for her attention. She’d even started a wolf-shifter and a bear-shifter, but both times, Roark had asserted himself and intrigued her with a new twist on his normal plot lines.
“Look, sweetie,” Gail continued. “I know I’ve been a tough taskmaster of late, but I have to work hard on your behalf, and you don’t want to let your fans down. They’d be so disappointed if you retired Roark. And what would everyone say if your next novel failed? You don’t want them to say you’re just a one-trick pony—that if it isn’t Roark that you can’t write it.”
“But that’s what worries me. What if I am?”
“You won’t know that for sure unless you write something new and different, and it falls flat on its face. I know you’ve read the articles about picking your lane and staying in it. It’s the best way to expand your market. I’ve worked so hard to put you and Roark on the map and everyone’s Kindle.”
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“But maybe my readers would like it if we took a different road, a path less traveled.”
“Sage, sweetie, less traveled means less money.”
“I make enough money…” Sage started.
“There is no such thing as enough money. Come on, you can do a couple more before the end of the year, don’t you think? I’ll tell you what, why don’t you finish the next two, then you and I will sneak away for a long weekend in London. We’ll eat at all the best restaurants, shop in the best stores, see a play in the West End… maybe even see if we can get you into that club… what’s it called?”
“You know perfectly well it’s Baker Street, and you know how much I’d like to go there.” Sage knew she was being played. “Let me guess, we’d go about the same time as the London book signing?”
Gail laughed. It occurred to Sage her laugh never sounded as though it was filled with joy or even much amusement.
“It would allow you to write off all the expenses of our trip,” Gail said. “Come on, we’ll have fun, and I’ll make all the arrangements.”
Sage rolled her eyes, glad they weren’t on a video call. She was well aware what Gail meant was that she’d book them first-class tickets on the plane, arrange for them to stay in the best hotel, and allow Sage to pick up the entire cost of the trip. She also knew it was pointless to argue with Gail. For one thing, they would have a good time, and for the other, Gail could be relentless when she wanted something. While her public might think of Sage as tough, dominant, and in charge of her own life, Gail knew different and knew just which buttons to push and how to get what she wanted.
“I guess that would be nice. Could we stay at the Savoy?”
“The event is at the Four Seasons. It would be more convenient to be there, and I prefer it.”
Again, she rolled her eyes, then she had an idea that would allow her to stay at the Savoy and would appeal to Gail’s penchant for drama.
“What if you stay at the Four Seasons, and I stay at the Savoy? We can rent a Rolls Royce limo and driver while we’re there. You could set it up so I make a grand entrance, and you could control access to me. Besides, Roark lives at the Savoy. It would strengthen my brand. They’ve always said they’d give me a discount…”
“Hmm… and maybe we could have a small gathering there for industry people. Not a bad idea, Sage. Leave it all to me. And don’t bother packing anything except the outfits I bought you for the signing at the Huntington. The last time I visited, I went through your closet. We’re going to need to go through it and purge a lot of your things. I can get a few things here for you in New York. If we go early enough, I can pick you up some more suitable things in London. They really do have some of the most amazing shops. I know a lot of people rave about Paris, but they’re so Parisian. I much prefer London. I’ll get something for you to wear over and bring it down. You can drive in from your little island and spend the night, then we can fly out of Charlotte.”
“Don’t you think we should shop together? I’ve gained a little weight since Derek and I split up.”
“Yes, I noticed. Not to worry. A good set of Spanx, the right tailor, and you’ll look perfect. I’ll see if Henri can’t come down to do your hair. Don’t do anything to it until he gets there. Agreed? Of course you do. You’re such a dear girl and my favorite author.”
Before Sage could get in another word, the line was dead.
Oh well, at least I get to stay at the Savoy, and maybe if I tip the driver enough, I can see a bit of London.
She picked up the paperback of her latest novel and smiled. Roark wasn’t the hunk du jour—he wasn’t blond, pretty, and polite. He was tall, dark, and lethal, with a strong, muscular physique. He had black hair, chocolate eyes, chiseled features, and the requisite six-pack abs—actually an eight-pack—and a pronounced V-formation that led to his sizeable cock, which rarely seemed to tire. Roark was arrogant, demanding, quick to spank, and even quicker to fuck, and like her readers, she was just a little bit in love with him.
She sighed. Too bad guys like him didn’t exist outside romance novels.
The phone rang.
“Hello?”
There was nothing but silence on the other end—silence and heavy breathing. Sage glanced at the phone, which showed ‘Unknown’ on the caller ID.
“Who is this?” she asked, keeping her voice steady.
“You can’t get people all hot and bothered, then not put out,” said a quiet, raspy voice.
Sage tried to keep from panicking. How the hell had he gotten her cell phone number? She was assuming, based on what Charlie had said, it was a man since there really wasn’t any way to tell for certain.
“Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you?”
“You’re breathing, aren’t you?” the voice said, cackling as the line went dead.
She tried to remember what buttons you were supposed to push to get some kind of caller ID but couldn’t. She called the Sheriff’s Office and reported the call to Charlie, who told her not to call anyone else and he was on his way.
Within minutes, Sage could hear sirens, and for once, was glad someone was making a fuss. The call had been unnerving. She checked the alarm system, and everything showed as working properly, but still, she shivered with fear.
She glanced at the Roark Samuels cover hanging on the wall, then down at her laptop.
“I really wish you were here, Roark. I’m beginning to think I could use a hero right about now.”
When she heard the patrol vehicle pull up, she walked out to let Charlie in.
He tried to see if he could figure out where the call that had so unsettled her had come from. Who the fuck was stalking her, and why wasn’t Deputy Puppy Eyes doing more about it? He pounded on the barrier and tried to see if he could hear and see more of what was going on. He couldn’t, but was grateful when he heard footsteps coming back into the solarium.
“Sage, you shouldn’t have opened the door without confirming it was me,” the lawman admonished.
“Who else has the security code to the front gate? I could see it was your SUV, so don’t treat me like a child.”
Therein lay the problem. She wasn’t a child, but she desperately needed boundaries, rules, and consequences for breaking them. His cock began to swell when he thought of all the consequences he’d like to impose on Sage for her naughty behavior, beginning with a discipline spanking that would leave her rounded globes red and stinging, her nipples pebbled, and her pussy wet and ripe for the taking.
He snorted. That boy in the deputy’s uniform didn’t have a clue what it would take to dominate a woman like Sage—make her feel loved and safe enough she could embrace her submissive side. Even if he could recognize it, the boy didn’t have what it took to give her what she needed and desired in the deepest part of her soul.
If he could just break through the veil that separated them and figure out a way to stay with her, he could give her everything she needed. Sometimes when she slept, he was able to reach through and be with her, if only for a few hours. While it was real and tactile for him, Sage, if she remembered it at all, did so as a dream. She always woke the next day relaxed, refreshed, and focused on whatever she needed to do. It was as if when she needed him most and allowed her self-protective walls to crumble just a bit, her soul reached out to his and he was able to break through.
“No need to get feisty on me. I’m here to help, remember?” the deputy scolded.
Feisty? The idiot didn’t understand her at all. She wasn’t feisty. She was fierce, tough, strong, and beautiful, longing for a partner she could lean on—one who wouldn’t take advantage of her but provide her with the stability and structure that would allow her to flourish and do so happily.
“I’m sorry, Charlie,” Sage sighed. “Of course, you’re right… at least about the part that I know you’re trying to help. It was just a bit unnerving.”
“I understand,” he said, taking her hand. “With your permission, I’m going to
have your calls traced, but I doubt we’ll get anything.”
“Where are my manners? Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, I’m good. I called your alarm company, and they’re running a full system check. If you’d like, I’ll go through the house, then walk the property. Before I leave, I’ll make sure the security folks give the system the a-okay and will make sure you’re all tucked in.”
If the idiot was a real man and had half a clue, he’d make sure he was tucked in next to her, providing her with everything she needed. Well, fuck the security company and her cell phone provider. He’d figured out how to check in with those systems. He couldn’t actually jump into them, but he could communicate with them and get information.
Untitled
Chapter 4
End of October
It had been two months since she had received the phone call. Charlie had shared with her that they had traced the call to a burner phone—one that had been discovered at the Cape Hatteras lighthouse, so whoever he was, he’d been close. Sage had arranged for the number he’d called to be sent to a recorder, then had the one for her phone changed. So far, so good. She hadn’t had any calls. Gail had come down the week before, new clothes, tailor, and hairstylist in tow.
It was a clear, crisp, October day on the North Carolina coast when she pulled the vintage roadster out of the garage and headed down the long drive. Sage knew both the roadster and the house were huge indulgences, but she loved them both. She often thought she could live in a smaller house as long as she could have an office like her solarium and live on the beach, but she adored her car. She also had an SUV for bad weather and if she needed to take more than just her and her luggage. The antique sports car wasn’t practical, but it was beautiful and luxurious… and she loved to drive it.
