Month: December 2016

No man has ever made Heather feel the way Troy does, but no man has ever asked so much of her in return. When can she trust he knows exactly how much she can take, and when is she right to be afraid?

Every choice feels like its leading to disaster, and the only thing that makes sense is to give in …

Reader Advisory: This story is part of a series intended for mature audiences only and which features intensely erotic situations, an enigmatic and dangerously alluring billionaire, the younger woman he draws under his spell, forced exhibition, public humiliation, discipline, dominance, and rough sex. All characters are 18 or older.

Excerpt:

The rideshare driver who picked her up took a little convincing that he was authorized to drive into the charter terminal at the airport. He was smarter she had given him credit for at first glance, and he could tell Heather wasn’t providing the whole truth when she said she was on some sort of approved parties list. But after being promised a generous tip, he agreed to try.

Twenty minutes later, there they were pulling up to the access gate of the charter terminal. Heather leaned out to wave at the security guard, and thankfully he had been working the previous Friday when she and Troy had flown out en route to Italy. He motioned them through without stopping them.

She spotted the familiar white limousine waiting out closer to the concourse, and directed the driver to drop her off next to it. She couldn’t stop thinking about coming here for her first time three weeks ago, when she was still so awed by the idea that someone like Troy Baldwin wanted to see her again. It was funny how she was always meeting him at the airport, as if he came down from somewhere more important just to see her.

But what an unhealthy attitude, she realized. It’s that kind of thinking that got me into this mess. He’s just someone. He’s amazing and thrilling and I fall apart when he touches me, but he’s just human. He’s just human and I’m just human. No more and no less. If I can’t accept that I deserve him, I don’t have any business being here. What’s between us can be real. I can make it real. If he doesn’t think that’s what he wants, I’ll show him it is. I will.

It was a nice little mantra. Repeating it felt good. It helped pass the minutes that seemed to stretch like hours. The wind bit into her skin, whipped through her hair, made her feel like she was waiting at the edge of the world, trying to reach across it.

After a lifetime, a cold, dreadful lifetime, she saw a jet approaching along the network of runways.

Heather’s courage almost failed. She had nowhere to run, no way to leave, and it was still so hard to stay still, watching it come. Her heart was in her throat. Her palms hurt where she’d been pressing her nails into them. If the plane had been waiting for her to be ready, it never would have come.

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She’d only known him a few hours, but already she wanted to learn how it felt to please him. He left her with a necklace that he says marks his property, and deciding to put it on has promptly turned Heather’s life upside down.

No man has ever made Heather feel the way Troy does, but no man has ever asked so much of her in return. When can she trust he knows exactly how much she can take, and when is she right to be afraid?

Reader Advisory: This story is part of a series intended for mature audiences only and which features intensely erotic situations, an enigmatic and dangerously alluring billionaire, the younger woman he draws under his spell, forced exhibition, public humiliation, discipline, dominance, and rough sex. All characters are 18 or older.

Excerpt:

She was still flushed and aching as Troy ushered her into a small boutique on the north side of the city. The walk hadn’t been far, maybe five or six blocks, and under other circumstances she knew she would have enjoyed it. But in her current state it felt more like a delirious march, primed to a perfect edge as her body throbbed with unfinished business.

The boutique was much larger inside than it had appeared from the street. Rows of the latest high-end fashion from Milan and Paris ran side by side with more fringe, risqué offerings in straight lines towards the back. Looking around, Heather began to guess a little at what Troy had in mind.

At the sound of their entry, a woman appeared from the rear of the store. In Heather’s wound up state, it was hard not to stare. The woman was simply beautiful, with soft olive skin, full breasts, and dark hair tied up in layers at the back. Her eyes were a gorgeous hazel, and when they fell on Troy, they grew wide and appreciative. “Welcome,” she said, with only a slight accent.

“Are we so obviously American?” Troy asked, smiling.

She laughed. “Just American? I’m not so uneducated. I know who you are.”

“You do?” Troy sighed. “Isn’t there anywhere far enough away for me to escape it these days?”

“You are almost far enough here, I think. But not with me. I have to know about important men, and so I know about you.” Her eyes left Troy for the first time and flickered over to Heather. “You are here for your friend?” she asked, still speaking to Troy as she looked Heather over with a penetrating gaze that – maybe it was just the lingering ache in Heather’s pussy – seemed deeply sensual.

“I am. We’re looking for something a little bit more fun than what she happened to pack with her.”

“Of course,” the woman agreed. “Let me show you what I have.”

Heather found herself blushing as item after item was pulled off the racks, each one more revealing than the last. As intimidated as Heather still was with Troy, she had grown comfortable in her body with him. He had a way of making her feel beautiful and desired that drove her crazy, and she liked the way he dressed her to his tastes, even if it sometimes shocked her lingering prudish instincts. But being here with this woman, going through clothes meant for her body at its most intimate … that was something different. She didn’t know whether she liked this.

But it was also impossible to deny that it was turning her on.

And yet, none of this seemed enough for Troy. “I want something that really shows her off,” he was explaining to the woman.

The woman turned her deep, almond eyes on Heather, and again Heather got the sensation that she might as well be naked. “You might have an easier time if you tried a woman … with more to show off,” she suggested, standing not by accident in a way to emphasize her own generous breasts and hips. But she faltered as she caught sight of Troy’s darkened expression and hurried on. “But we’ll see what we can do. She’s very lovely.”

“Yes,” Troy agreed, in a tone of unmistakable rebuke, “she is.” His right hand, which hadn’t left the small of Heather’s back since they had entered the store, brought her closer in with a possessive touch, and Heather’s body hummed to be against him. “The rest of it is in this row, is it?” he asked the woman. “I think I can look through it myself.”

She backed away, apologizing again and promising to send out her nephew to handle the billing if they wanted to buy anything. Heather watched her go with a sense of satisfaction that was marred with an unfamiliar, lingering interest, as though the woman had stirred something in her she didn’t want to let go.

But she had quite enough other things stirring inside her on this particular morning.

She jumped as she realized Troy had said something. “Sorry, sir, what?” she asked. There it was again, that sneaky ‘sir.’ At least they were alone now.

“I said, why don’t you go wait for me in the changing room?”

Heather retreated obediently to a small stall in the corner of the store. The door swung shut behind her and she sank onto the little bench, pressing her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror.

Her hand moved involuntarily back between her legs and for a moment she wondered whether she dared try for release before Troy could notice. The urge to plunge her fingers inside herself seemed to pulse through her with every movement and thought.

She had been such a normal, in control woman only a few weeks ago. How had she wound up like this?

He had told her not to. He had told her not to. He had told her …

“Heather.”

She opened her eyes and saw his distinctive leather shoes below the gap in the door. “Yes.”

“Pass me your clothes out, please.”

It took Heather a moment to understand what he was asking, and then two realizations clicked into place at once. One: he wasn’t buying clothes for her to put on for some hypothetical evening, safely in the future and safely in a bedroom, where he could enjoy the sight of her in lingerie while he taught her the identity of a submissive. This was to wear here, now. In public. He wanted her to put on a new outfit, specifically designed to ‘show her off’ and walk out of here in it. And two: he wasn’t going to let her see what he had picked out before she surrendered her current clothes. She would be completely helpless, standing naked in a foreign changing room, completely dependent on whatever he decided to offer her to cover herself.

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