Read My Russian Master (Service & Submission Book 3) Online
Authors: Megan Michaels
Tags: #BDSM Erotic Romance
My Russian Master (Service & Submission Book 3)
My Russian Master
Megan Michaels
About This Book
Sometimes the road to happily-ever-after begins with two simple words: “Yes, Sir.”
For CEO Caroline Turner certain truths were inescapable. No matter how powerful, successful, and pretty she was, it didn’t matter when it came to the number on her scale — a number she wasn’t at all happy with. Like every other obstacle in her life though, she had a plan for overcoming it. The famous Maxim Volkov chef and fitness expert wasn’t cheap, and he wasn’t exactly falling in line with her wishes either, but he was perfect for the job… and extremely easy on the eyes. However alpha and devastatingly handsome the taciturn Russian might be, he seemed to have a different understanding about who the boss was in their particular arrangement. She’d just have to put him in his place… and try to ignore the insane urge to kneel at his feet.
Taking the job offered by the spoiled, if intriguing American CEO was something Maxim wouldn’t normally do. He didn’t need the money, and he usually found Western women trying at best, maddening at worst. But something about the pretty Caroline spoke to him, her defiance, and acid-tongued ways hiding an appealing vulnerability he longed to bring to the fore. Despite her self-image, he saw little wrong with the curvy, brunette beauty. Nothing wrong that is that couldn’t be cured with a little strict, bare bottom discipline, and some loving, sensual aftercare. That the appealingly disobedient, mouthy American woman would surrender to him was never in doubt.
The only question was when.
But behind Caroline’s strong, professional facade, something else lurked, a part of her painful past that threatened to endanger her future — and perhaps her life. Hiding his own potentially explosive secrets, Maxim must help her finally put that dark chapter behind her — no matter what it took, no matter how much she might fight it, no matter how much it hurt. Worse, hated competitors, circling like sharks, threatened to destroy all that Caroline had worked so hard to create.
Struggling with demons both internal and external, her last, best hope might just be a man as hard and implacable as a Siberian winter...
Publisher’s Warning:
Intended for mature audiences. 18 and over only!
This sensuous romance contains explicit sexual situations, spanking, and anal play. This book deals with eating disorders and could be a trigger for some. This book can be read as a standalone. Enjoyment of the novel will be enhanced by reading the previous entries in the series, but it’s not necessary.
Copyright © 2015 by Megan Michaels
All rights reserved.
Cover Design by Rachel A Olson (
www.nosweatgraphics.weebly.com
)
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and as such, any similarity to existing persons, places or events must be considered purely coincidental.
This book contains content that is not suitable for readers aged 17 and under.
For mature readers only.
Published in the United States of America.
First Electronic Edition: October 2015
By Megan Michaels
The Service & Submission Series:
My Russian Master
The Widow Wagon Series:
Book Two: More Than She Bargained For
Published By Stormy Night Publications
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to my wonderful friend, Kristin. You're always kind, caring, and supportive, giving me an honest opinion on all things, and making me laugh on the days I can't even muster a smile. I appreciate you taking the time out of your crazy life to be there for me.
To all the women who have had to overcome obstacles — big or small — to accept and love themselves.
“We can always find each other, we girls with secrets.” — Crystal Renn
Chapter One
C
aroline Turner stalked out of the conference room and down the carpeted hallway. Neither the spring sunshine pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows, nor the spectacular view of Manhattan far below did anything to improve her mood.
How dare he?
He’d had the nerve to turn to her and tell her she’d find more success with men if she fixed her attitude — and lost about twenty pounds. While there was no way she’d
ever
let him know that his comments had hurt, they definitely had.
She’d smiled. “Why, Derek, you sweet talker. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you were putting in an order. When I’m ready for you, I’ll give you a ring. Until then, wish me well and stay safe.” She’d quickly turned on her heel and left before he could make another cutting retort.
As she passed by Samantha, the receptionist, Caroline plastered on a smile that felt more like a grimace. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sammi.”
Barely managing to hold back her tears, she picked up her pace, dashing toward the elevator.
Pressing the button for the door harshly, staring at the cold, steel doors, she felt the all-too-familiar sting of impending tears behind her eyes and nose.
As soon as the doors opened, she quickly entered, not turning around until they had closed. Caroline dug around in her Louis Vuitton bag, pulling out a tissue, hoping she wouldn’t need to use it, still willing her tears not to fall. She looked at herself in a small mirror, to be sure her eyes weren’t too red. She opened her cell, punching in the numbers as if it had insulted her rather than Derek.
“Jason. I’ll be out front soon. I need to go home. Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.”
Looking in the mirror again, she turned her head from side-to-side, observing her skin and neck, assessing how much weight she’d gained. She supposed she
could
lose some weight, but she thought she looked pretty good. After all, she’d seen many other women that looked older — or heavier — than she was. If anyone asked why she was dabbing at her welling eyes, she’d say she had allergies.
At thirty-two, she knew she no longer looked like she had at twenty-two or, for that matter, even how she looked at twenty-six. But how dare he insinuate that she hadn’t been dating because of twenty pounds? Didn’t some men like a little weight on their women? She’d read in her romance novels about Doms wanting women who were curvy, women with generous, swaying breasts. It meant there would be enough ass to squeeze and spank, a soft cushion for sex. She liked big, burly men, and they in particular liked a soft woman, a curvy woman. She’d been told that many times. Wasn’t that true?
It still hurt though. She wasn’t sure she could ever get back to her size eight clothes. Even if she could though, would she want to?
From the very beginning, as a young intern, she’d diligently worked her way up the chain, eventually managing to become the CEO of a prominent advertising firm in Manhattan. Of course, she’d made enemies in the process, many of them men like her current nemesis, Derek Miller. He had set his sights on the company, and vowed he’d wrest it from her control. He’d gotten backers and supporters, but not enough to succeed. With the backing of her family and a few very prominent and wealthy close friends, she’d been able to outbid him, winning over key members of the Board with her class and knowledge.
He never let her forget that he would be her biggest competitor — and someone she could never trust. Her interpersonal skills, her ability to influence people and to communicate with ease, had kept her at the top.
Derek had been brash and conniving, trying to thwart her success at every turn. Thankfully, most people saw his evil nature for what it was, no matter how much he tried to mask it. And fortunately for her, her board of directors were very savvy, and were able to warn her of any sly maneuvers Derek cooked up. Overall, she loved her board of directors, even though some days they’d made her life difficult; she couldn’t manipulate them as easily as she’d have liked. Despite her occasional clashes with the Board though, they backed her on almost all her endeavors. The combined intelligence and experience of the men and women who made up her board were an invaluable ally to her.
Derek Miller, as a competitor in their same industry, ended up being at many of the same conferences and joint media campaigns that Caroline attended. Today had been one of those days. And because Derek thought being rough with women would make him look like he was part of the “old boy’s network,” he never missed a chance to make misogynistic digs at her or other female competitors. The immaturity of his remarks didn’t make her look incompetent — they simply illuminated his lack of finesse and ungentlemanly demeanor. It always seemed to backfire on him, but he never learned the lesson and continued in this crude behavior.
She expected today’s comment from Derek would actually land her the Parker account, but rather than celebrate another victory over the bastard, she suspected she’d be wallowing in self-loathing and regret. She’d more than likely go home and drown her sorrows in carbohydrates. A big bowl of pasta and fresh Italian bread, followed by a large bowl of ice cream would make her feel better. Right now, she wouldn’t think about how much she’d hate herself the next morning.
Exiting the lobby of the high-rise, she stepped out onto the bustling sidewalk. There was nothing like the mayhem of Manhattan to help you forget your problems — or add to them. Right in front of the door was her sleek, black SUV and Jason, ever-faithful Jason, her security guard. Tall, broad, and muscular, and wearing a well-tailored suit, he held the truck’s door open for her. She walked briskly, anxious to sit in the secluded, peaceful back seat — and more than likely cry.
