Excerpt From: Vagabond Heart

Honolulu, Hawaii. Monday, July 7, 1941

He looked so nervous. He licked his lips, his glance shifting from me to the sparse furnishings and back again. I knew he wanted me. He’d been waiting for hours. Now he was here, it was as if he felt too big when the room was so small. He kept his shoulders stooped when there was no need. My cubicle was half of a divided room, the other half partitioned by thin wood and curtains. Outside, I could hear the noises made by the rowdy men still waiting in line, competing with the hucksters of Chinatown trying to hawk everything from jewellery to photos with hula girls.

Curfew was coming.

The sense of urgency gave an edge to the restless laughter. The smell of charbroiled pork wafted up to us from the Chinese café opposite my room on River Street. I stepped towards Howard, his heated gaze stayed on me.

I was nervous too. I could feel his tension, but also his excitement. I heard the radio go on from somewhere downstairs. Glenn Miller performed Three Little Fishes.

“It’s all right, Howard,” I said, drawing down the blind a little more. “You’re with me now.”

He jumped when I said his name. I’d only been trying to relax him. I was pleased at least that it appeared to be his real name. The darkened room hid a lot of things, except the strong smell of disinfectant. I’d tried to disguise it with waterlilies I’d picked after my morning swim at the Natatorium. All I could smell now was pork. There was nothing I could do about that. He put his glass down on the small chest of drawers beside the bed. I was worried it would leave a ring mark, but was more worried about him. His cock looked hard in his pants. I didn’t want him to leave unsatisfied.

Howard licked his lips again.

I ran my hand down the front of his white duck pants. I was relieved he had such a nice big one.

As I got to my knees, I looked up at him. “Oh, Howard, this is such a surprise.”

He grinned then, giving me his full attention. It didn’t take long to liberate him from his pants. His cock leaked as I lightly ran my thumb over the tip. I squeezed. Outside, I could hear new music…from the saloon across the street. When the bar music kicked up, it meant it was time for the four-drink dose of Island Gin. The lethal, imitation brew was handed out to US servicemen every hour as they stood in line. It kept them buzzed, kept them spending, kept them in line.

There were lines for food, lines for booze, lines for sex…

Howard jumped when I leant closer to his thighs and went to work. He didn’t smell clean, but I didn’t care. I had three minutes and this boy was read to pop. I fondled his balls, licked his shaft and he gasped when I smothered that huge cock head with my whole mouth.

“Oh God!” he yelled.

Somebody from the cubicle next door also used the Lord’s name in vain. I milked Howard for all he was worth. His knees trembled and I released him, swallowing his load.

“Thank you, Terry,” he said, a tear in his eye. “You’re a nice man.”

I held him back until the man from the cubicle next door shuffled down the stairs and out to Hotel Street. Milaina, the housekeeper, knocked softly at my door. She made herself scarce as we approached. I let Howard out.

“I’ll be back,” he said. “Next pay day. You’ll see, Terry.” He mouthed thank you again.

I handed him his glass. Not that he needed his horrible gin, he was pretty liquored up still, but damn it, he’d paid for it.

I didn’t respond in case anyone was listening. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, the guys still waiting to come up were none the wiser that Howard, the Marine, had just spent his three bucks on a male whore.

And for me, my first trick ever wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all.

Excerpt from: Vampire's Captive

The moon bathed the ocean and the dilapidated carnival on the pier with its silvery glow and cast the forlorn woman in her long wedding gown in breathy, expectant shadows. Brett’s guilt washed over him for the hundredth time since seeing his ex-wife step out of her fancy, expensive heels and, without giving them a backward glance, stroll dejectedly onto the beach, her shoulders slumped and her back hunched forward. He’d wondered for a year, five months, two days, and five and a half hours—give or take a couple of minutes—if he’d done the right thing in divorcing Sierra.

He was an eternal vampire and she was a mortal, although a devastatingly lovely mortal with sleek dark hair that swept her waist and an innocent, beguiling expression that lured jaded, hardened men from their complacency about the fair sex. And yet the man she now loved hadn’t even bothered to make it to the altar today. He’d left her standing in the annex holding a wilting bouquet of pale pink roses and baby’s breath and a heart that had been hurt far too many times. Brett didn’t believe in God, but he tossed a short prayer into the air asking that Sierra forgive him for what he was about to do.

He spoke her name softly, like a dry leaf scudding along the sidewalk. “Sierra.”

She didn’t jump as he’d expected. She merely turned to gaze at him over her shoulder, then, without a spark of recognition, returned to her survey of the pounding waves and the invisible horizon darkness had obliterated. He knew he shouldn’t have come, should have stayed away from her, but how could he when she felt betrayed, as if her whole world had collapsed? First him and then this man with whom she’d thought she could spend the rest of her life.

He took a deep breath, seized her wrist, and spun her around to face him. “Look at me.”

She was exquisite in the off-the-shoulder gown. Bare neck, bare shoulders. She blinked several times. “What do you want, Brett?” she asked in resignation.

He heard the unspoken accusation, wanted to take her in his arms and make her promises of forever, but the tears rolling down her cheeks, one by lonely one, stopped him.

She frowned. “So? You’re not often left speechless. A man who must have a great deal of experience with all types of women. Why did you come?” Under the jewelled bodice, her breasts rose and fell. Anger simmered near the surface, waiting with eager tentacles for the wrong words to leap into life.

Brett didn’t want her to be alone. Or ashamed at being left at the altar, which was partly his fault. If he hadn’t divorced her, would she be happier with him? “I wanted to see if you’re okay.” Lame, but it was the best he could do.

“Really?” She would have turned away, but he grabbed her other wrist and held her at a distance in case she decided to fight him and perhaps knee him in the groin.

He didn’t want the night to end before it began.

How could he tell her he’d made a mistake? She was in the throes of rejection, and this wasn’t a good time to mention his deepest regrets. “I want to be your friend.”

Excerpt From: Vamps in the City

Paige sensed the moment she was no longer alone. She could also sense that the person coming up the street was not human. Paige kept her head down and her hands buried deep in the coat pockets. If she could sense him, he would be able to sense her.

She kept her steps the same. She didn’t speed up nor slow down, and neither did he. She clutched the dagger she kept in her pocket—it wouldn’t kill him but it would help give her time to get away. She could stab him and, while he was temporarily stunned, turn and run like Hell.

As he reached for her, Paige ducked her head and swept her foot out. This one was faster than the rest and managed to avoid her effort to trip him. He was also faster than she, because in the next instant, her arm was twisted painfully behind her back and she was slammed face-first into a brick building.

He used his legs to imprison Paige’s lower body while one hand held her arm in place. When she felt his other hand feeling down her leg, no doubt searching for weapons, she used her free elbow to try to strike a blow, but he immediately blocked it. He tightened his grip on her arm, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

“Stand still,” he demanded in a low voice.

He pocketed both her daggers from her jacket. And the long retractable knife from her boot.

Damn it. Those things were expensive. She had to get them back.

Paige found herself being turned around and pushed back into the wall by her shoulders. He started at her feet and took his time until he’d gazed at every inch of her. Paige hated the feelings he raised—the helplessness, the certainty he would take what he wanted just like all the others.

“Who are you?”

She didn’t answer but brought her knee up violently. He easily blocked it with his leg. It had been a stupid attempt, but she wouldn’t quietly give in—she would fight like she always did.

He shook her hard once before slamming her into the wall again.

Paige’s head snapped back and she bit her tongue.

Fuck! She so didn’t need this shit tonight.

She started to taste copper, and knew that if she could smell the blood, he certainly could. She had just a few minutes before he went into blood lust.

He smiled and Paige was shocked to see how handsome he was. She gave him the same thorough once-over he had just given her.

Handsome wasn’t the right word. Ruggedly beautiful fit him better. He stood over six feet tall to her average five six. He had dark hair and dark eyes, but it was his face… He was gorgeous. Strong jaw with just enough stubble to be sexy, his nose perfect, and his lips…full and plump. Just begging to be taken. Paige was sure he used his looks to his advantage in luring his prey.

But Paige wasn’t on the menu tonight. No pretty face would get her to let her guard down. Well, at least never again.

She may only be half as strong as the weakest vampire, but she had street smarts. She’d learnt to make it on her own and had for years now. This man…no, this monster would not end her.

There was no way to beat him. And now she was bleeding. It was already healing, but the damage had been done. She had to use her strong will and every dirty trick she knew if she wanted to get out alive.

As he leaned into her, Paige readied her hands to defend herself. Once again proving he was faster and more skilled than she, he didn’t give her a chance to do more. Paige found her arms up over her head as he pressed into her, holding both wrists in one hand. The warm, hard body that pressed into hers made her come instantly alive. She had known to expect the reaction but it still hit hard. Paige became light-headed and her knees went weak as he rubbed against her and nuzzled her neck.

“Young. Young and strong blood. Smells so sweet,” he murmured into her ear and she shivered. And it wasn’t all from fear.

He ran his mouth from her temple down her cheek, nipped her ear, and travelled down her jaw line.

Paige gasped out a breath, trying to fight the emotions he was bringing alive inside. It was a natural attraction she had to fight every day. But it had never been as hard as it was now.

Excerpt From: Vaulting

Eye of the tiger, baby .Dylan squared his shoulders and focused on the pommel horse. Stomp the horse. He puffed out a long breath and began his run. The muscles in his legs burned with each step. Own the horse. He jumped on the springboard and launched himself into the air. Arms straight and tucked tight to the sides of his head, he pushed off the table and went into the twist. He forced his gaze to the floor and finished out the flip.

Instead of landing on both feet, Dylan over-rotated the turn and ended up hard on his ass. "Damn it." He pounded the mat with both fists and gritted his teeth. Stick the landing…all he’d had to do was stick the goddamned landing.

Footsteps slapped the mats behind him. Dylan sighed, ready for the verbal lashing from his coach.

"You do realise you need more lift when you come off the springboard, right?"

Not coach. A shiver ran the length of his spine. Dylan knew that voice. Aiden Conrad, star of the summer games and master of the vault. He squeezed his eyes shut. Coach would bring in a ringer to get the team to the finals.

"Dylan?"

He opened his eyes. "Aiden."

Besides being a world-class vaulter, Aiden Conrad knew how to work his assets. The guy had swagger and a smile bright enough to light a full city block. He also happened to star in Dylan’s nightly fantasies. Five feet, seven inches of solid muscle filled out Aiden’s frame and thick black hair stood in perfectly mussed spikes on his head. He smiled all the time and never seemed to take anything seriously.

Aiden plopped down beside Dylan on the mat. "Form looks great in the run, your launch off the springboard is fine, but you don’t have enough power in your arms. You need to get your body higher."

"I’m working on it." Dylan attempted a smile. "More practice."

"Hit the weights harder. Build up that muscle so you’ve got the power." Aiden grinned. "Took me a while, too."

Took him a while? Dylan suppressed a snort. Aiden had won his first gold by age nineteen and had added two more to the pile by the time he turned twenty-seven. He knew his stuff when it came to vaulting and he sure as hell made each vault look easy.

"How do you like the Reach Institute?" Aiden rested his elbows on his knees. Even in baggy workout pants and a warm-up jacket, he resembled a magazine model. "I’m thinking about training here."

"It’s a good place. Excellent equipment. Staff is great and the coaches make you work." Dylan nodded and worked like hell to keep his body from reacting to Aiden. He folded his hands over his crotch to hide his blossoming erection. "You’ll be right at home."

"Good. I wanted to be your teammate anyway." Aiden patted Dylan’s thigh, then stood. "I’ll need an exercise partner. You free?"

The wind rushed from Dylan’s lungs and he pressed his lips together to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. Be his teammate? No way. To show him up? Or help him out? The longer he stayed quiet, the more ridiculous he felt. He had to stop over-thinking things.

"I’m sorry." Aiden waved both hands. "I’m used to being forward. Don’t worry about it." The tops of his ears turned a brilliant shade of red and the colour bled to his cheeks. "If you don’t want to—"

"I want to." Dylan cursed himself for sounding so eager, even if eager explained his feelings to a tee. "I mean, I don’t have anyone to work out with and I’d like a partner…" Wrong word. Shit. "Workout buddy." Still sounded stupid. "I mean…" One more slip and Aiden would think Dylan was coming on to him.

"I hear you." Aiden grinned. "Tomorrow morning at five? Meet me in the locker room and we’ll get started."

Dylan nodded. "You got it."

Excerpt From: Venetian Love Knots

Allison held her plastic cup in a death grip as she absently rattled the ice cubes in it. She stared out of the bubble-shaped window on her flight to Rome. The vodka had done little to calm her nerves. Neither People, Cosmo, nor Vogue had been any help distracting her. Allison’s mind was determined to go back to the one man who had caused her more pain and heartache than she had ever known. The man whom she would soon see for the first time in four years.

She bit her lip and shut her eyes tightly. Allison remembered the day her best friend Marcia had told her that she was getting married in Venice the week of Valentine’s Day. Marcia had asked her to be her maid of honour and Allison had immediately jumped at the chance. She loved to travel, and she wanted to be there for Marcia.

Marcia had been dating Alfonso ever since Allison could remember. The pair had been together since they were kids in grammar school, when Alfonso and his parents moved to Texas from Italy. In fact, Alfonso had lived in the United States so long that no one thought of him as Italian, but the rest of his family was still in Italy.

Marcia had explained that it was a family tradition for them to be married in Venice around St Valentine’s Day. Alfonso was very close with his grandmother, who still lived there, and he wanted to carry on the family tradition for her. Marcia had met Alfonso’s Italian family, and had said that they were wonderful—very hospitable—and had been kind to her.

"His grandmother is so cute and little, but she’s a pistol, you know? Plus he has all these Italian cousins. They’re so handsome and polite. And they really know how to throw a party. I bet the whole time we were in Italy we didn’t sleep a wink! Somebody was always throwing a dinner party, or a lunch, or even a brunch for us. It was wild. And Venice…Oh, Allie, you are going to love Venice!" Marcia had gone on and on, telling her about the sights she’d seen and all of the art that Allison could see if she went. It had sounded like something Allison did not want to miss.

A couple of weeks later, Allison had just walked into her apartment when she’d got a call from Marcia. "Allie, honey, it’s me, Marsh. Are you sitting down? I need you to sit down."

Allison had set her groceries down on the floor and sat.

"Honey, Alfonso has gotten Cole to agree to be his best man," she’d said.

Marcia’s announcement had been met with complete silence.

"Allison? You still there?" Marcia had asked.

Cole. For years Allison had prayed for indifference towards Cole. She had hated him for years. What she felt for Cole was either unmitigated passion or hate. She didn’t know any in between. And what she had wound up craving was indifference. The last time she’d seen him, four years ago, what she had prayed for, what she had begged God for, was to feel indifference towards him. He had almost ruined her life.

"Yes, Marcia, I’m here." Her voice emotionless. Her purse strap had fallen off her shoulder as she’d slumped forward on the chair.

"Well, Allison, I know this is going to be uncomfortable for you, knowing how you’ve tried to put the whole Cole thing behind you, but hopefully you won’t have to see each other very much. I mean it is a large wedding party and all. Alfonso says Cole has a girlfriend. I mean she’s not coming or anything, but…well, what do you think? Will you still be my maid of honour?"

"Of course, it’s fine," Allison had lied, keeping her tone as even as she’d been able.

"I’m so sorry about this!" Marcia had prattled on and Allison had put on a brave face for her friend and pretended that everything would be fine.

Now that she was on her way to Italy, her fears rose to the surface.

It’s fine, she thought to herself sarcastically. That’s why I’m sitting here half-drunk and miserable, worrying about some guy from four years ago. She crossed and uncrossed her legs several times, fractious and annoyed with herself that even thinking about him could still shake her up so much.

Allison Fox had enjoyed being a popular girl for most of her twenty-six years. Her relationship with Cole Street was a source of shame for her, but it was also secretly how she identified herself. While she was ashamed of what she’d put up with for the relationship, who she was when she was with Cole was how she defined herself as a woman in many ways. That made her feel even worse about herself.

Excerpt From: Vision of Love

"What are you doing?"

The voice. It’s Redbush. I didn’t hear him approach. Today his skin glistens with a sheen of sweat, the sun striking him from behind, as though it too loves the shape of his body, the graceful curves of his legs under his loincloth.

I stare at him, a shy maiden.

"Don’t give me that. You are as talkative as bluejay." His tone is humorous.

"At least you didn’t compare me to a crow," I say with a sigh. His eyes see through to my inner heat, making me squirm while I gaze at him. I love to admire him.

"Why the sigh?" he asks. He sets his bow down and squats beside me. His muscles ripple like the sides of a deer. His chin looks as hard as the rock I am sitting on, which is far enough away not to be found by any of my tribe—or so I had thought.

And yet he is here. Great.

"I was thinking. I wish for the makings of a new dress. I would sacrifice this one to the gods, but then, what would I wear while waiting for the answer?" My dress is hideous. The wooden beads are broken and worn, the hem frayed. I feel the material for wear, especially across the chest where the decorations are falling off. The buckskin fringe is worn and cracked from too many washings, dancing unevenly under my fingers.

"Would they listen to you?" He laughs.

I don’t hit him because secretly, I have always had a feeling for Redbush—as in, I have a feeling declaring my love for him would make him laugh. I’m too shy to talk to him much, ever since he turned more desirable to the young girls of the tribe than any other male in the tribe. His red-fletched arrows stick up above his right shoulder. He carries no meat, I notice.

"How was the hunt?" I ask, avoiding his question. Do the gods listen to women? I finger a rip at a seam of my dress, the one that connects the shoulder to the sleeve. Grandpa used to say if I made a sacrifice they might talk to me, a woman. He knew because he was a great shaman, and his wife had told him to tell the gods she would give anything for a son, but he hadn’t. When she’d become pregnant, he’d known they’d heard her. When his wife had died during childbirth, he’d known they had taken something. My mother had told me not to listen to Grandpa, to only pretend to listen. But I’d listened.

"Did you catch anything?" I ask.

"It was a good hunt. I stopped to watch clouds, to see their beauty. I missed the rabbit." His voice is casual, that of a man confident in himself.

I laugh. "Beauty?" I love clouds, but only the dark grey ones, the stormbringers with their many shades of grey, the troubled ones.

I pull a thread, a long piece of sinew, and the dress unravels slowly, the arm coming loose. Fine. But then the chest starts to fall away and I freeze, holding the thread taut.

From the corner of my eye, I see Redbush watching intently.

The air is cold on my breast—cold and delicious like a quick dip in a still lake during summer. My breasts are half covered by shadow, the tops peeking out like sloping mountains, the nipples just hidden by the folded, stiff hide.

Excerpt From: Vital to Him

Robert straightened his cap and brushed a speck of dirt off his neatly pressed chauffeur’s jacket before pushing away from the gleaming black stretch limousine to greet his employer. Stairs were being pushed up to the small, expensive jet. It would be only a matter of a minute or so until the plane’s door opened and he finally saw Brenton again. How long had he been gone this time? Almost a week. To Robert, it could have been a month.

For Colorado in early autumn, the evening was mild. The sun was setting behind the Rockies to the west, painting the sky with vivid oranges and purples. Since he was focused on waiting for the door to open, he barely noticed anything.

After an interminable wait, Brenton emerged.

Robert’s breath constricted as the other man descended the metal steps. Brenton’s shoulders were slumped. Now that his father had been diagnosed with dementia and his mother wasn’t coping with her strong husband’s decline, Brenton seemed to carry the weight of the Marston family’s empire on his slender shoulders.

What Robert wouldn’t give for the opportunity to help his boss relieve some of his stress. But the mere hint of that would cross the boundary lines the Marstons kept between them and the hired help. "Welcome home, sir," Robert shouted above the roar of a departing plane. He sincerely meant the greeting. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. For the last few days, he’d felt like a little kid anticipating the arrival of Santa Claus. "How was your flight?" He moved in to claim the man’s expensive leather briefcase. Some designer label, he knew. But unless it had something to do with cars, logos meant little to him.

"Three time zones in five days," Brenton said.

"The car is cool. I’ve poured you a whisky."

"You’re a good man, Silles."

It was a fantasy to hear Brenton call him anything other than his surname. Robert opened the rear door. As Brenton slid inside, Robert caught a whiff of the man’s scent. He smelled of power, of success, of ambition, all laced with pheromones. It had musky undertones, and Robert knew it hadn’t come out of a bottle. Harnessing his thoughts, Robert placed the briefcase on the carpeted floor and then closed the door.

Another employee hurried over with the rest of Brenton’s luggage, and Robert took it from there. Anything for the man who’d seen his potential and offered him a respectable job. He’d started at the bottom, waxing the estate’s vehicles, washing car windows and performing small maintenance jobs such as changing the oil, checking the antifreeze and adding windshield washer fluid. He’d also been assigned responsibility for maintaining their boat and golf cart.

The family, he’d realised shortly after joining them a decade ago, had more money than some small countries, but they economised where they could. At times, Brenton was required to travel on commercial flights.

Robert had been around the Marstons long enough to know they were all serious about philanthropy. They treated their employees fairly and participated in charity fundraisers, but they were also expected to increase the family’s coffers for the next generation.

Excerpt from: Vows of a Vampire

Varick sat in the study, the fire blazing, illuminating a wall of old books. It had been ages since he’d read anything, his mind always filled with too much inner dialogue. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken the time to relax.

A quiet knock at the door snared his attention.

“Yes? Come in.”

The door swung open, and a billow of floral perfume rushed through the room, nearly choking him. There was no mistaking who it belonged to.

Melenge stepped inside, her dark body scantily clad in a short, sheer dress. Her smooth skin reminded him of chocolate silk. Long as he could remember, she’d tried her best to seduce him. She claimed a taste from him would make her feel like a queen. While flattered, his loyalty lay with another, and he wouldn’t betray her.

Hips swaying, Melange approached stealthily, sliding what little clothing she wore off her flawless figure, and stood before him. Eyes averted, he took a deep breath in. At any sign of arousal, his cock would be between her lips, deep-throated.

“Look at me, Varick.” Her breathy voice drifted around him.

To appease her, he bypassed her nakedness and stared into her eyes. Hauntingly violet.

“Evening, Melenge. Restless?”

“Only for you.” Never one for subtleties, she looked him over and locked on his groin. “Maybe you didn’t hear, but I’m your prize tonight.”

He smirked. “I’ve won nothing. You know very well I won’t fall for your charms, tempting as they are.”

Melenge knelt in front of him, the glow from the fire highlighting her cheekbones. “Don’t you think me beautiful?”

What an understatement. “You know you’re the most beautiful vampire I’ve ever seen.”

Her bottom lip stuck out. “Then why don’t you let me have my way with you?”

A sigh escaped his throat. No matter how many times he’d explained, she refused to listen. “Because my heart belongs to another. It is the way of things.”

She dragged a long blood-red fingernail along the top of his pant leg and stopped half an inch from his cock. “I can make you forget her in a heartbeat.”

Damn she tested him tonight. “I’m certain you can, but I’ll have to decline your tempting offer.”

Her supple lips deepened into a frown. “I’ve only wanted two men in my life and haven’t had either one. You, of course, and Dante. The way you both keep a woman hanging on, it’s torture.”

Varick gently slid her hand off his leg. “There are plenty of healthy sexual appetites here in the coven. My brothers are a horny lot. I trust your desires can be sated by one or more of them.”

A faint hiss resounded from her throat. “Of course I can have them, but they give themselves to me willingly. I crave a challenge. It’s what makes my pussy wet.”

He stood and gestured toward the door. “You won’t find me taking the bait tonight or any other night. Please, enjoy yourself with one of my brothers.”

Melenge retrieved her dress and met him at the doorway. “Very well, but don’t think I’ll stop trying.” She cast him a smouldering glance and made a point to graze her palm along his cock on her way out.

Varick knew she wouldn’t give up. Not while she viewed him as a conquest. It took a strong man to tell her no, but he would continue to. He reserved his passion for one woman only. Someday he hoped to know the soft touch of her skin. Aubrey. The thought of his lips pressed against hers, tasting her sweet, moist mouth, sent shivers along his body. She’d managed to capture his affections without her knowledge. During the day he’d observed her graceful cat-like moves, but it was at night when he suffered mo

Excerpt From: Voyeur

“Tell me what you see.”

Marnie jumped. A bit of her martini sloshed over the side of her glass, spilling onto the polished hardwood floor.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Master Zachary?

A shiver chased down her spine. Although she’d never met him, she recognised the sound of his commanding baritone. She’d dreamt of him telling her to strip, to drop to her knees, to suck his cock. Now, with him so close, the reality of his voice sent a delicious thrill arrowing through her insides, making her hot and wet. Well, hotter and wetter than she had been only a minute ago. Damn. This man was the stuff of fantasies.

She started to turn to face him, but he closed his strong, forceful hands around her shoulders, keeping her firmly in place. “No. Stay where you are.”

Her response to his voice, to his touch, surprised her. She didn’t normally have this kind of raw response to any man. Not only did he unnerve her, but she was a bit embarrassed to have been caught staring shamelessly at the erotic act occurring on the other side of the glass. “I was about to move on.”

“Liar.” His tone was warm, taking the sting out of the word. Impossibly, then, he moved in closer. She could all but feel the rub of his jeans against the bare skin of her legs. She should have worn leather pants, or, at the least, tights. Against her ear, he whispered, “You want to watch every moment. That’s why you’re here.”

“Yes,” she finally admitted. Master Theodore and his submissive wife Susanna were in the observation room. She was naked, on her knees, gazing up adoringly at him. Her breasts, with their hard, beautiful nipples were cupped in her palms, as if she were offering them, and herself, to her Dom.

About once a month, the couple opened their spectacular English country home to like-minded people. Attendance was by invitation only. Fortunately, one of the men who worked in her office, Darius, had been taken to the Waters’ Estate by his Domme, Jennifer.

Tantalised, Marnie had spent half a year badgering him with questions and begging for an invitation. Last month he and his Domme had come through, and she’d been allowed in as their guest. She’d met several of their friends, and she’d seen Master Zachary interact with a submissive, but Marnie hadn’t really gotten a chance to explore. This month, however, she was here on her own.

She’d love to be one of the people observed, instead of just the voyeur. But she knew that was impossible. She lacked the confidence, and, well, frankly, disliked her body. Despite eating more lettuce than a rabbit, consuming enough carrots to turn orange, forgoing enough chocolate to send Switzerland into bankruptcy, and sweating at the gym three times a week, she had bulges and ripples where they should never be.

“Marnie, isn’t it?”

Her heart skipped a beat, then slammed the next dozen together. “How do you know my name?”

“I make it my business to know all of Susanna and Theodore’s guests, particularly the unescorted submissives. Very unusual.”

She smiled, but it felt fragile. Had he known she’d watched his scenes? “I’m more of a voyeur, as you’ve ascertained. I’m not much of a submissive.” But if she were, it would be with this man. He didn’t need a set of weights. He was just simply blessed by the gods with a body that wouldn’t quit. No way in hell would he be seeing hers without clothes.

“You’re not much of a submissive?” he repeated. Was that disbelief that dripped from his voice? “This entire night is dedicated to dominance and submission. And you haven’t moved from this place for at least ten minutes.”

“Ah…I find it interesting. A curiosity.”

“Are you wet, Marnie?”

She blushed scarlet. She was glad he couldn’t see her, and that she couldn’t see him.

“Marnie? I asked you a question. Is your pussy wet?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Tell me.”

“Yes, I’m wet.” But it had nothing to do with the forceful way he held her. Or at least that’s what she told herself.