Undercover Submission

UNDERCOVER SUBMISSION

Melinda Barron

www.loose-id.com

Warning

This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Undercover Submission

Melinda Barron

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by

Loose Id LLC

870 Market St, Suite 1301

San Francisco CA 94103-2907

www.loose-id.com

Copyright © October 2008 by Melinda Barron

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

ISBN 978-1-59632-785-6

Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Maryam Salim

Cover Artist: April Martinez

Special thanks to Maryam for helping mold the story. I hope you enjoy getting a taste of Cedric, a wonderfully dominant man who just wouldn’t let me forget about him after his short foray in Graceful Mischief. It’s been a lot of fun to visit old friends again.

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This book i for Tia, a wonderful friend who is always there for me. Big hugs! Mel Prologue

Halloween 2007

The English countryside

“You’re going to freeze your ass off out here, literally. At least cover your dick, you’re making mine cold just looking at you.”

Cedric Davenport turned to his friend and costar Toffer Shelley, aka Drake Dawson, who held out a thick robe. Then he looked down at his cock, which lay flaccid against his thigh. He took the robe and shrugged into it. “He’s fine. Worn out, but fine.”

Toffer laughed. “It was a rousing scene, wasn’t it? Thanks for helping me live out a fantasy and pull Grace a little more out of her shell. She’s always worried about her weight.”

“She’s gorgeous.” Cedric’s words were soft, his gaze now fastened on the English countryside before them.

“Thank you. Just don’t forget she’s my wife.”

“No, I didn’t mean it that way.” He turned to see Toffer studying him.

“What’s eating you?”

2 Melinda Barron

“You are,” Cedric replied, a frown marring his handsome features.

“Excuse me?”

“You two, your relationship.”

“Now I’m a little concerned. Was this a bad idea, our ménage? You have designs on my wife?” Cedric almost laughed at the barely controlled anger in Toffer’s voice.

“No, that’s not what I meant. The way she looks at you, and you look at her. The love there. I’ve never had that. Not once. Women flock to me because I’m Cedric Davenport, the big star. They want what they can get out of me, a little fame, some hot sex, expensive toys, and gifts. I want a woman to love me the way Grace loves you. How did you do it?”

“You can’t engineer love, Ced. Grace and I met over the Internet, setting up a party for a mutual friend. I didn’t tell her who I was at first, and when she found out, she wasn’t too happy with me. However, by that time a bond had formed, and we built on it. I couldn’t live without her. She’s not just my wife and my sub, she’s my life.”

“It’s why you defend her when the media attacks her size.”

“If I could get away with it, I’d deck a few of them.” They both chuckled at the idea before Toffer continued, “You’re a good Dom; I can tell from what happened tonight. Find yourself a good subbie.”

“I’ve had a few, except the bond’s never really formed. One of them was only too happy to sell her story to the press: Cedric Davenport flogged me, film at eleven.”

“Makes you leery.”

“Humph, yeah.” Cedric sighed heavily, then turned to Toffer. “You guys know anyone?

Someone who would submit to me, and then not run to make a buck from it?”

“Sorry.” Toffer shook his head. “At least you don’t have to hide your dominant side.”

“Oh yeah, my former publicist loved that, let me tell you. Freaked her out. She screamed about how the general public would look at me now, told me I had to change, that Undercover Submission

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it would scare off moviegoers. I dumped her, quick, because she just wouldn’t let it go. I don’t care who knows I’m a Dom. I’m not changing who I am for anyone.”

“Well, you are an action hero, and I’m sure it just built you up in some people’s eyes and made you a freak in others.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t hurt profits from my movies. Still going strong.” Cedric gathered his dark, shoulder-length hair into a ponytail, then let it fall again. “I’m forty-three years old. I make millions, the public can’t get enough of me, and I can’t find a woman who loves me just for me. Life sucks.”

Toffer stood and clapped a hand on Cedric’s shoulder. “Take heart, my friend.

Someone’s out there for you and you’ll find her. If Grace and I can help, we will. I guarantee it.”

4 Melinda Barron

Hollywood Hills, California

Kennedy Tyson pushed the button on the intercom system outside Grace Shelley’s house and waited. Warm August air filled the car as she waited for a response. She couldn’t believe she was here, about to have dinner with Grace Shelley. The Grace Shelley. The author whose books she’d come to love. She rubbed her sweaty palms together as Grace’s disembodied voice drifted from the speaker.

“Hi, Kennedy. Just follow the path to the house.” The gate rolled open and she drove through, looking in her rearview mirror as it shut behind her. This place was a huge step away from her apartment in Bakersfield. It had taken forever for her to get here, and cost more than a small fortune in gas. It was worth it to have dinner with a writer she admired so much.

The idea still boggled her mind. When she’d attended the book signing last month, she’d never expected to get more than Grace Shelley’s autograph. When the two women had Undercover Submission

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talked about writing, and the process, Grace had asked her to stick around until after the event was over. Then they’d sat in the coffee shop and talked for an hour.

When she’d noticed it was past time to go, Grace handed her a card, with a phone number and e-mail address written on it, asking Kennedy to keep in touch. Not having her own card, Kennedy had written her e-mail address on a piece of paper and given it to her new friend. Then she’d debated on how long she should wait to get into contact. A day would seem too eager. Two days maybe, or three? On the second day, Grace had e-mailed her, asking to meet for coffee at the bookstore.

Even though it was a more than a little bit out of her way, Kennedy had agreed. They’d spent the afternoon discussing writing. After that it became a regular thing. They met once a week, on a Thursday, when Kennedy was off from both of her two jobs. Kennedy never told Grace where she lived, or how long it took her to get to the Hollywood Hills area. She was just thrilled to discuss writing with someone who had been there.

At first, Kennedy had been surprised at the way the relationship developed. After all, she and Grace only had a few things in common: writing and the fact they were both larger women. Where Kennedy still struggled with her writing, Grace had hit it big. Where Kennedy, at age thirty-nine, didn’t have a man in her life, Grace, who was in her mid-thirties, was married to one of the biggest stars in Hollywood. Where Kennedy held down two jobs to make ends meet, Grace had received a hundred thousand dollar advance on her last book.

Two weeks ago, Grace had taken Kennedy’s manuscript, promising to critique it. At their weekly meeting just a few days ago, she’d asked Kennedy to come to the house for dinner. Kennedy had been floored, but she’d managed to accept without making a total fool of herself, or at least she hoped she hadn’t. Grace had smiled sweetly and given her the address.

“Just punch the button on the system when you get there and we’ll buzz you in.” Now, as she piloted her old clunker toward the house, Kennedy’s nerves were once again on edge.

6 Melinda Barron

She topped a hill and looked down at the four-story gleaming white-and-glass house in front of her, and her stomach dropped. This was so far out of her league. A bright red sports car sat in front of the home, and off to the side she could see a garage with four doors. They had four cars, and she had one that she worried would make it to the Hills and back to Bakersfield every week.

Her heart went into overdrive, but she knew she couldn’t back out now. Grace was sweet, and would never mention that the twenty-five dollar bottle of wine Kennedy had brought as a hostess gift was probably not even close to the vintage they were used to drinking. Before she could chicken out and make a U-turn back toward the gate, Drake Dawson and another man appeared on the balcony and waved. Drake, who Grace said liked to be called Toffer, motioned for her to park next to the sports car. She nodded, then turned her attention to the man standing next to him, her eyes widening even more.

Oh. My. God. Cedric Davenport. Her mouth went dry and she tightened her hands on the wheel, wondering how fast she could turn around and speed home. They started down the outside stairs and she eased off the brake and popped the clutch, the car stalling.

Embarrassment flooded her as she started it back up, then coasted down the hill.

She came to a stop just as Toffer reached for the door handle. “Welcome.” He held out a hand to help her from the car and she took it with one hand, reaching for the wine with her other one. She hoped her hand didn’t shake too much. When he’d closed the door behind her, he smiled.

“My mother always said when making introductions you had to make sure to repeat names so people wouldn’t forget, and make sure to introduce each person to the other, so no one feels left out.” He pulled her into his side in a friendly hug. “So with that in mind, Kennedy, I’m Toffer. Kennedy, this is Cedric, and Cedric, this is Kennedy.”

Like I’m going to forget your names. Right. “Hi. Mr. Dawson, um, Shelley. Mr.

Davenport.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and her mouth felt as dry as a desert. Did she just screw things up? She was pretty sure she had.

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“Mr. Shelley? Mr. Davenport? Are our fathers here?” Cedric looked around, then gave her a sheepish grin. “It’s Toffer and Cedric.”

“Cedric.” She laughed nervously, then handed the bottle to Toffer. “Toffer, just a small gift to say thanks.”

“Great. We have a bottle of this very same wine in the fridge right now. Maybe we can open them both and get sloshed tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Cedric said. He motioned to Toffer, then leaned toward her as if imparting a secret. “You have to watch this guy, though. He’ll try to keep all the booze for himself.”

“I’ll share with Kennedy and Grace. You’re on your own, though, smart-ass. There’s a liquor store down the road. If you hurry, you might make it back before dinner comes out of the oven. If not, hit the burger joint next to the liquor store.”

“Screw you. Remember, I’m the one who brought the bottle of wine in the refrigerator.” Surprise registered in Kennedy. They’d brought the same bottle of wine? That was weird.

“I love this vineyard,” Cedric said. “I shot a movie up there. They sent a bottle to my room one night and I was hooked. Now I buy it by the case at the first of the season.

Delicious.”

Kennedy silently thanked the liquor store clerk who’d recommended the wine when she’d asked for something good, but not too expensive.

“Cheapskate,” Toffer said. “You brought a bottle of wine from your own cellar?”