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Shades of Pleasure: Five Stories of Domination and Submission

BOOK: Shades of Pleasure: Five Stories of Domination and Submission
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Shades of Pleasure: Five Stories of Domination and Submission
Tawny Taylor
Novel Mind Books (2012)
Rating:
★★★★☆
Tags:
Erotica, Romance, Erotic Romance, romantica, domination and submission, erotica for women, domination and submission romance, erotic bondage

For fans of Fifty Shades of Grey, bestselling author Tawny Taylor presents Shades of Pleasure: Five Stories of Domination and Submission.

This anthology contains: What He Wants, At His Mercy, Pleasing Him, Ties that Bind and Enslaved by Sin, a total of over 90,000 words.

What He Wants (My Alpha Billionaire, 1)
Billionaire Shane Trant is used to getting what he wants. What he can't buy, he takes. When he sees Bristol Deatrich for the first time in over ten years, he knows he wants her. But there's a problem. Only complete possession of her mind and body will satisfy him. He's not sure the sweet little Bristol is ready for his brand of extreme carnal play. But that's not going to stop him from trying. After all, he learned a long time ago, nobody wins if they don't take risks. If this risk pays off, they'll both win.

At His Mercy
Sometimes freedom can only be gained through captivity... Elena Caine has secrets. The kind that could devastate her life if they're revealed. And now a selfish bastard is dragging the skeletons out of her closet. She's being blackmailed. There's no way out--but to turn to the man Elena trusts least, the quietly seductive Dom Kyler Pierce. As Kyler and Elena face a common enemy, overpowering sexual heat sizzles between them. They want each other. Need each other. But happiness may be beyond their reach. For this determined Dom and reluctant submissive to have any chance at love, Elena must learn the most essential lesson of submission--to trust her Dom. Especially when she is on her knees...and her world is tumbling down around her. (Previously published as Blackmailed)

Pleasing Him
Britt Olsen is shocked when the man who bought her house, the gorgeous Andre Cruz-Romero, shows up at her front door a week after closing. Ironically, an innocent mistake, and then, later that night, the luck of the draw, has brought them together twice in one night. And now, Britt has her chance to get to know the enigmatic man who has inspired a fantasy or two, or more. But she is both shocked and thrilled to learn about Andre's extreme erotic tastes when she heads to a bondage dungeon with her friend. Drawn to Britt's charm, intelligence and sharp wit, Andre is unable to resist the temptation to invite the innocent Britt to his home for a private session. And once Andre has Britt in his arms, he has no intention of letting her go. He will be the man to introduce her to the decadent pleasures of submitting. And she might teach him a thing or two about pleasure as well... (Previously published as Master, May I?)

Ties that Bind
Some ties can never be severed. Illusion. A word shaded with nuance, making the men who practice it--the masters--enigmas. Particularly when they magically materialize from the shadows of a woman's past. It's been fifteen years. No longer the tormented young men Blair knew and loved so long ago, Damon and Trey still know how to touch her heart, how to draw out her secrets, and how to bring her to the edge of ecstasy. Blair has two weeks to unravel the ties that have bound the three of them together. Two weeks to solve the mysteries veiled by her seductive masters' illusions. And two weeks to surrender to the smoldering desires burning in her body as she submits to their darkest demands. (Previously published as Masters of Illusion)

Enslaved by Sin
I have a secret--a deliciously wicked secret. Care to guess what it is? I'll give you a hint. I get hot and wet just thinking about it. Are you ready to curl up with a naughty book and step into my world of dark erotic fantasy? Over two hundred years ago, the Master of Sin welcomed guests to Castle Greh, inviting them to taste decadent carnal pleasures every night. Now, some claimed the castle was haunted by the dark prince and his many lovers. She was about to learn the truth... About the castle. About the Master. And about her darkest desires.

Shades of Pleasure: Five Stories of
Domination and Submission

by

Tawny Taylor

 

Published by Novel Mind Books

Copyright 2012 Tawny Taylor

 

 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or
reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

What He Wants

by

Tawny Taylor

 

ABOUT THE BOOK

 

Billionaire Shane Trant is used to getting what he wants.
What he can’t buy, he takes. When he sees Bristol Deatrich for the first time
in over ten years, he knows he wants her. But there’s a problem. Only complete
possession of her mind and body will satisfy him. He’s not sure the sweet
little Bristol is ready for his brand of extreme carnal play.

 

But that’s not going to stop him from trying. After all, he
learned a long time ago, nobody wins if they don’t take risks. If this risk
pays off, they’ll both win.

 

SAMPLE

 

He growled, hooked an arm around my waist and whirled around
so I was flat against the wall and his body was holding me there.

Oh. My. God.

His mouth descended upon mine, his tongue shoved its way in,
and within seconds, I was writhing against him while he kissed me into a coma.

I felt him scoop me up into his arms. He was carrying me, walking,
while our tongues mated and battled. I was losing the war, ready to surrender
to him, to the fierce heat boiling in my veins, to the blinding need he’d
sparked in my body. He broke the kiss, stared down at me with eyes full of male
hunger. “I’m sorry, Bristol. I can’t let you go now. I can’t.”

We kissed again, and again, as he carried me into the
dungeon. At some point he set me on my feet, but I was too shaky to stand, and
I wasn’t about to let him stop kissing me. I hung onto his neck, arms wrapped
tightly, and lost myself in his aggressive, demanding, plundering kiss.

I’d been kissed plenty of times, but never like that.

Never like the man couldn’t get enough.

Never like he was staking a claim.

Never like he was conquering me.

When the kiss ended--not my choice--I clung to him and
fought to catch my breath.

“Wow,” I murmured. My gaze started at his mouth but quickly
moved to the closest piece of torture furniture. I felt myself backing up.

“You’ve never been in a dungeon, correct?” he asked, hands
sliding down my sides.

“Never.”

He blocked my exit with his hulking body, held me at the
hips. “If I do something you don’t like, say, Red.”

“Red?” I echoed, trying to wiggle my way free. I wasn’t
ready for this. That kiss. It was the kiss’s fault I was in here. I didn’t
belong here, no.

He cut me off completely, cornering me against another wall,
his body a giant obstacle I couldn’t push past. He caged my head between his
hands, arms stretched out. His eyes were dark, hard. “You may beg me to stop,
but I won’t. You may plead with me and cry, but I won’t stop. But if you say red,
I will cease immediately.”

“Red,” I muttered.

His fingertip trailed down the side of my face, down my jaw,
my throat to the center of my breastbone. I sucked in a deep breath and fought
to regain my composure. But he was so big and so sexy and so intimidating, I
couldn’t speak. “I promise I won’t be too hard on you this first time.” He
closed his hands around my waist, forcing me deeper into the room.

Ohmygod, what was happening? “On second thought--”

He kissed me again. His tongue shoved its way into my mouth.
It was a hard kiss, a feral one. I was swept up in pulsing waves of sensual
heat, barely realizing I was being half-carried, half-shoved as we traveled
through his torture dungeon. My head was going blank. I tried to repeat the
word red in my head. Would I remember it? What if things got too intense?

Red, red, red.

When the kiss had finally ended, I found myself standing
next to the table in the center of the room. He reached under it, pulling out a
step stool. The table wasn’t very tall, maybe typical counter height. He patted
the table top. “Let’s get you up here.”

Red, red, red.

Why couldn’t I speak? Why couldn’t I move?

He picked me up and plopped me down. My legs dangled over
the edge.

Red, red, red.

He eased my knees apart and stepped closer, and I realized,
when his hips wedged between my thighs that the table was the perfect height
for him to have sex standing up. A flood of warmth pulsed to my core. He caught
my wrists, pinning them behind my back and gathering them into one hand. Now
there was a hard lump grinding against my crotch and I couldn’t use my hands.

Mmmmm. I liked it.

I didn’t want to like it.

I didn’t want to be in this scary place.

I licked my lips, and his gaze locked on my mouth. “What do
you want?” I whispered.

The corners of his lips curled. “You’ll soon find out.

Books by Tawny Taylor

Wild Knights

Wicked Knights

Wanton Knights

Wild, Wicked & Wanton

Dark Master

Decadent Master

Dangerous Master

Darkest Fire

Darkest Desire

Claim Me

Wicked Beast

Prince of Fire

Girl Enslaved

Dirty Little Lies

Triple Stud

Enslaved by Sin

Double Take

Behind the Mask

Plays Well with Others

Lust’s Temptation

Wrath’s Embrace

Burning Hunger

Torrid Hunger

Everlasting Hunger

Slave of Duty

Flesh to Flesh

Compromising Positions

Breathless

Pleasing Him

At His Mercy

Ties That Bind

Heart Throb

Burn For You

Her Lesson in Sin

Touch of Fire

His Dark Kiss

Playing for Keeps

Your Wicked Game

Make Me Burn

Make Me Shiver

What He Wants (My Alpha Billionaire, 1)

What He Demands (My Alpha Billionaire, 2)

What He Craves (My Alpha Billionaire, 3)

Yes, Master

Chapter 1

“I’m sorry, but I just locked the house up.” I said to the
handsome man who’d just come strolling up my mother’s front walk. Selling the
house had been an absolute nightmare. Not just because the building brought so
many memories to the surface, but also because it wasn’t in the best of shape.
It was a great house in a wonderful neighborhood. If only I could get just one
person to see past all the ugly linoleum, godawful paneling, and circa 70’s
shag carpet.

Twisting to look over my shoulder, I shot the man--who
happened to be well dressed and gorgeous--a quick smile. “But if you give me a
minute, I’ll make a quick phone call and then let you in.”

“I’d appreciate that. Thanks.” His voice was a low, rich
rumble. For some reason, it resonated through my body, and the feeling of
familiarity sparked inside me. Did I know this man?

Once I had the lock engaged, I click-clacked out to my car,
my pinched toes probably blistered, and flounced into the driver’s seat. I dug
my phone out of my purse, and studied the strange man who didn’t seem to be a
stranger as I called my best friend Jill to let her know I’d be a little late
meeting her for lunch.

Was the man another real estate agent, looking to list the
house? Could be. His clothes were impeccable.

A brief conversation--primarily ample apologies--and I had
an extra forty-five minutes to not only figure out where I’d met the man before
but also how to convince him to buy the house instead of sell it for me. I was
getting seriously strapped, paying the utilities and property taxes on the
place, in addition to my condo. Because of this silly need to cling to my
childhood, I’d put off selling the place as long as I could. It was time to
make something happen and move on.

Determined I’d found the buyer for my mom’s place, I pasted
on my best smile, fluffed my hair and headed back up to the front porch. As I
unlocked the door, I said, “This house is a wonderful investment. It’s in a
great location, on a dead end street. The neighborhood is excellent, a great
place to raise a family.”

“Hmmm.” The man walked inside. He moved with a rare fluidity
for a male. I watched him as he wandered through the rooms on the first floor.
Living room. Dining room. Kitchen (that was in dire need of a full gut job). The
longer I studied him, the more I felt I knew him. Trying to concentrate on the
house, I pointed out the beautiful, original hardwood floors, the baseboards
and window and door trims, the lovely hand carved handrail.

His wandering took us upstairs. He stopped outside of my
mom’s bedroom and stared. It was then that I knew who he was.

“Uncle” Shane.

He wasn’t legally my uncle, no. That was just what I’d called
him. I hadn’t seen him in...ten years, maybe. Since I was about twelve. Uncle Shane
had been the subject of my first crush. Of course, he hadn’t known that at the
time.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” he said.

“Uncle Shane?”

He scrutinized me closely, his intense gaze making me
uneasy. “Of course. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. Bristol?”

“Yes, that’s me.” I extended a hand. “It’s been a long time.
A very long time. Good to see you again.”

His hand enveloped mine. He shook it, stopped, but didn’t
release it. His gaze was focused on my face. Sharp and intense. Assessing. “It’s
good to see you again, too. Your mother was a good friend. I’m sorry I lost
touch with her...and with you. I haven’t been in town for many years.”

“I’m sure she understood.”

“Yes, I’m sure I did. That was how Katherine was. Always
understanding. Generous. Giving.”

I couldn’t help saying, “Too generous sometimes. She nearly
went bankrupt. And this house...it’s mortgaged for more than it’s worth. And you
can see how well she kept it up. Mom always told me it didn’t matter, that the
house was falling down around her. All that mattered was how many people she
touched in her life.”

His smile nearly took my breath away. For a man I guessed
was within a handful of years of my mother’s age, he was strikingly handsome
and fit. Ten years had done nothing to change that. His hair was very dark,
almost black. Not curly. But not straight either. His features, as they had
been then, were well balanced and masculine. Not pretty, but not too rugged
either. And his body, from what I could tell, was also still in great shape.
Shoulders broad. Waist narrow. His black jacket fit him perfectly, as if it had
been sewn just for him. Same with the pants. The white shirt was a stark
contrast against the jacket and the honey brown color of his skin. The only
thing a decade had done was add  a sprinkling of silver hairs glinting at his
temples, just enough to make him look sexy and distinguished.

“Katherine Deatrich was a one-of-a-kind woman.” He turned,
facing me. “Why are you selling the house?”

“I can’t afford the mortgage payments or the upkeep, and
it’s too big. I live alone...unless you count my cat.”

“I see.” He reached up, caught a curl that had flopped over
my face and tucked it behind my ear. For some reason, the intimate touch sent
me careening back into that old place, back into the childhood crush. Our gazes
tangled, and my heart did a little hop in my chest. “I can’t get over how much
you’ve changed.”

“Kids do that,” I said, holding my breath.

“They do. How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

He shook his head. “Damn. Where’s the time gone?”

Still feeling a little wobbly, I shrugged. “I couldn’t say.”
I motioned to the bedroom. “Erm, the master bath is a nice size.”

“Oh, yes. The house.” He glanced around, almost as if he’d
forgotten where he was. “I’ll take it. What are you asking?”

My insides did a flip flop. Could it be I’d just sold the
house? Or was he just playing with me? “Three forty-nine, nine. That’s the
balance of the mortgage. I’m not making a penny from the sale.”

“No agent?”

“No, I didn’t want to have to pay another five to ten
percent out of pocket. The closing costs alone are going to kill me.”

“I’ll have my attorney draw up the papers and schedule the
closing with the title company.”

This couldn’t have gone any better. It was honestly too good
to be true, which made me a little nervous. Thankfully, my best friend was an
attorney. She’d offered to handle the closing for me pro bono. “I already have
someone.”

“Fine.” He reached in his inside jacket pocket, pulled out a
card. “I’ll be expecting a call then.”

“Do you need time to secure financing?” I asked. My
fingertips brushed his as I took the card from him.

“No, I’ll be paying cash.”

Cash. I couldn’t imagine paying three hundred fifty thousand
dollars cash for anything. “Wonderful! We’ll be seeing each other soon, then.”

“Soon.” He took my hand again, and little buzzing electrical
charges seemed to zap between us. I couldn’t believe it. After all this time,
ten years, there was still something there. I wondered if he felt it too.
“Goodbye, Bristol. It was a nice surprise, running into you today.”

* * * * *

Three weeks later, I slid a cashier’s check into my purse.

Jill congratulated me with a sparkly-faced grin. “How are
you feeling, now that the house is officially gone?”

“Relieved.” An understatement.

“Excellent. Want to go celebrate?” she asked, smoothing a
few stray away amber hued hairs that had slipped out of her slick bun. “I have
a few loose ends to wrap up, but I can be ready to go in about an hour.”

“Sure. Okay. I guess...” I said, following her from the
building. “I could go run a few errands while I wait.”

“Cool. See you soon.” She tossed her briefcase into her sparkly
new Subaru, and climbed in. I threw her a wave before unlocking the door to my
trusty old Toyota. As I was pulling it open, a car pulled up behind mine and
parked. Out of habit, I glanced at it.

The door opened and a man stepped out.

A man I recognized.

Oh God, please tell me he isn’t having buyer’s remorse
already.

I smiled, though it probably wasn’t one of my brightest.

“I was hoping I’d catch you,” he said as he strolled toward
me.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” He leaned against my car’s
trunk, and immediately I regretted not having washed the car in weeks. Those
impeccable black pants weren’t going to look so impeccable in a minute. “I was
wondering if you’d like to go to dinner?”

“When?”

“Tonight? Now?”

“Oh, I...”
Have plans. But what the hell?
“I think
that’ll be okay. But I need to make a call first.”

“Sure. You can do that while we’re driving.” He reached
around me, pushing my car door closed. My nerves buzzed at his nearness. Wow,
was there some serious chemistry there.

I hit the button on my key fob, locking the doors and
followed him to his car. Nice car. Black. Sleek. BMW. And it smelled really
nice inside. Like leather and expensive cologne and man. He got the engine
purring while I buckled in. And within moments, we were backing out of the
parking spot.

“I hope you enjoy the house,” I said as I fished in my purse
for my phone. “It really is a wonderful old building. With some TLC, it could
be spectacular.”

“I have big plans for the place.” He smiled as he steered
the car through the parking lot. “I hope you’ll come see it when the renovations
are finished.” At the driveway, he hit his turn signal, waiting for a break in
traffic.

“I’d love to. I’m just glad the house has gone to someone
who could see its full potential.”

“That’s one thing I’ve always been good at--seeing the full
potential of things...and people.” He turned his attention to me. “But in your
case, I vastly underestimated you. I knew you’d grow up to be a beautiful
woman. But I had no idea you’d be so stunning.”

My cheeks warmed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Turning his focus back on the road, Shane
hit the gas and we zoomed out onto the clogged street.

“You know--this is embarrassing, and I don’t know why I’m
telling you, but what the hell?--I had a crush on you when I was a kid.”

His grin was charming and genuine. “Really?”

“Really.”

“But I was an
old
man.”

“Older but not old. And charming. And nice. And you talked
to me like I was an adult.”

We pulled up to a light, and he glanced at me. “You were
always mature for your age.”

“Being the only child of my mother, it would be impossible
for me to be otherwise.”

He chuckled. The light turned green, and once again, we were
humming along, zigging and zagging through traffic. “I could see that. The
truth was, I respected you.”

“Respected?” A twelve year old? That surprised me.

“And now that we’ve reconnected, I respect you even more.”
He turned the car into a parking lot. Maggiano’s. I’d eaten there before. “Is
this okay?”

“Absolutely.”

He parked and we headed inside. We shared a plate of spinach
dip and drank wine and exchanged compliments. He told me about the wife he’d
lost while he’d been living in Spain (Spain!), and the children he’d never had.
The joys of his life and regrets. And I told him about losing Mom, finishing
school, and the bumpy start to my career. The chemistry kept building and
building with each minute we spent together. By the time our stomachs were full
and our wine glasses empty, I was hoping I’d get a kiss, a real one with hands
grasping and tongues twining.

Shane Trant was a hundred times more the man than my
juvenile mind could have comprehended. He was intelligent, successful,
charming. And he emanated a certain male power, charisma, confidence. I was
mesmerized. And a little nervous, too.

At the end of the meal, he paid the bill then led me back to
the car, placing a hand on the small of my back. That touch was so distracting
I almost went the wrong way when we stepped outside. In fact, I started walking
around the wrong side of the building, and he grabbed my shoulders to stop me
and turned me back around, facing him.

My gaze jerked up, to his face.

He was looking down at me, eyes glimmering.

“The dinner was delicious, thank you,” I said, staring at
his mouth. Could it be any more perfect?
Kiss me, please. Kiss me now.

He licked his lips. His head tipped. A muscle on his jaw
clenched. “You are something else.”

“Tell me more. I never tire of compliments.”

His laughter seemed to vibrate through my whole body. One of
his hands cupped my cheek. I flattened my hand on his and held my breath. The
moment was magical, and I wanted it to last a lifetime. Erotic energy was
arcing through the still night air, leaping from his big, hard body to mine,
zinging along my nerves, igniting little blazes everywhere.

But then he said, “I think I’d better take you back to your
car now.”

You could kiss me first
. “I’m in no hurry to go
home.”

“Hmmmm.” The hand that was holding my cheek wandered south a
little, fingers curling around my neck. It was a strange way to hold me, a
strange place. But it excited me, thrilled me. “You don’t know me. Maybe it’s
better you keep it that way.”

“What do you mean? Of course I know you. I’ve known you for
years.”

“But not really.”

I didn’t understand. Was he hiding something? Was he not the
man I thought? What I saw was a sexy man, a widower, an old friend, and  a
successful businessman who had turned his father’s one-man operation into a
multi-billion dollar corporation. I also saw a man who could make my blood
simmer with just a look. “What do you mean by that? Are you dangerous?”

“You might say that.” His hold on my neck tightened a tiny
bit. It was just enough for me to notice, make me shiver a little, but not
enough to make me really scared.

“Dangerous, how?”

BOOK: Shades of Pleasure: Five Stories of Domination and Submission
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