Your To Take - Connaghers 03 (20 page)

Ownership comes with a price. Make sure you’re prepared to
pay it.

Owned

© 2012 S.L. Carpenter

Friends with benefits? Eric and Lauren are definitely that.
A Friday night, a hotel, and a night of hot, satisfying sex. That’s it.
Recently, though, Eric finds himself wanting more. More time, more fun, more
Lauren.

Trouble is, she’s all tied up in her career, totally
uninterested in getting tied down. How will she react when he musters up the
guts to ask her for what he really wants: her to be completely his for one
weekend. To let him
own
her, body and soul.

Lauren is sure Eric is just overthinking their strictly
casual relationship. Still, the thought of doing exactly what he wants,
whenever and
wherever
he wants, intrigues her. What’s not to like about
letting go, handing everything over to a man she trusts in every way?

Their getaway is more sensual, more daring, more perfect
than either of them anticipated. Until that most feared of emotions raises its
head and takes aim at their hearts.

Warning: Contains references to ownership, domination and
complete submission; extra panties may be required, along with ice. This is not
a book about training your pets, so treats and squeaky toys are not necessary,
unless you’re into that...

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Owned:

She walked into the room and saw Eric opening up a small, black
box. “Hey, what…?”

“Shhh. Set that stuff down and I want you to stand right
there.” He pointed to the entryway where there was a full-length mirror.

She moved like he asked and stood motionless. “Okay, so now
what?”

He reached out to her. Lauren smiled and took his hand.
Turning it over, he dropped a single dice and closed her hand around it. “Roll
it.” And he motioned to the small stand beside them.

It ricocheted a second. “Four. What’s that mean?”

Eric picked up the dice and rolled a three. He shrugged then
walked back to the little black box he had.

Lauren was confused and curious about the little quirkiness
Eric was showing her. She watched him fumbling in the box and saw him pull out
a long piece of black fabric. He had a wicked smile as he walked over to her
holding the cloth. Grabbing her shoulders, he turned her body to face the
mirror. She grinned at her reflection but felt a little awkward. “You know…”

“Shhh, I’ll do the talking.” Eric’s demeanor had changed and
his voice was a bit deeper and more direct.

Lauren looked into the mirror and watched Eric behind her.
He raised the black cloth and blindfolded her. Chills ran up her spine and she
became instantly aroused. This must be what he meant by being
owned
.

Speaking just above a whisper, Eric began. His hot breath blew
against her neck as he pressed against her back. “From this moment on. You
belong to me. You’ll do what I ask, without question, without hesitation.”

His words cut through her. He acted different, spoke
different. This was a much darker side. As each second passed the heat between
her legs rose and her heart pounded faster. Fear, excitement and exhilaration,
all building up at once.

Eric grabbed her breasts from behind and continued to
whisper in her ear. “These are mine.” He unbuttoned her blouse slowly at first
then ripped the buttons loose, exposing her skin.

She jerked from the violent rip of the fabric. A burst of
cold air swept over her hot flesh. She did what he said and kept quiet, hanging
on his every word. Each second seemed an eternity filled with want for him.

Eric slid his rough hands over her skin and down her stomach.
He kissed the slope of her neck and unfastened the clasp on the side of her
skirt, loosening it just enough for his hand to slide under and find her heat.
She groaned when he cupped her wet pussy, rubbing between the folds of her
slippery slit with his finger.

Her body quivered and tensed at his touch. Eric sucked on
her neck and licked up behind her ear, nibbling on her lobe. He continued toying
with her pussy, stirring the passion within her.

“This belongs to me now. When I ask to see your pussy,
you’ll show it to me. If I want to touch it, I will. If I want to eat you, I’ll
eat you. And when I want to fuck you, I’ll fuck you hard and as long as I can
stand it until my appetite for you is sated.”

As Eric spoke he squeezed her pussy and bit the nape of her
neck, and his last words caused her to wobble. She wanted him, now, and reached
back to stroke his hardened cock that poked her in the small of the back. Her
hand brushed against his shaft through his pants while he licked the soft skin
below her earlobe.

This wasn’t fair.

Eric pulled away and began walking around her. Unable to see
where he was, she could only feel his gaze on her. He peeled the torn fabric of
the blouse off her then unfastened her bra and let it fall.

“Damn, Lauren, you are a fucking sexy bitch. I can’t wait to
get my cock inside you.”

He mumbled under his breath, “Fuck, I love your tight little
nipples,” and brushed his fingertips over them. His other hand swept over her
rounded ass and he took a breath in. “Man, I can’t wait to fuck that sweet ass.
Going to massage, kiss and bury my cock into that ass hard and deep.”

The darkness only added to the excitement. His words were
sexy and naughty. He kept telling her how hot she was and how badly he wanted
to fuck her. Only he didn’t do it. All he did was peel away pieces of her
clothing as she stood, blind to everything.

Her panties stuck to her wet folds of flesh, her pussy
burning with passion and want. The hot, slick juices trickled along her inner
thighs from excitement and ache.
Dear God, release me
.

Every deal has a loophole.

Restraining the Receptionist

© 2011 Juniper Bell

…the Receptionist, Book 2

Dana Arthur’s new job with the firm of Cowell & Dirk is
going well. Translation: the occasionally kinky ménage with her two bosses,
Ethan and Simon, has been several months of politically incorrect bliss.

Except the relationship feels unbalanced. While Ethan is the
undisputed master, the partners’ iron-clad agreement stipulates that Simon must
be present as she performs her “duties”. And she senses there’s a subtle,
powerful tug-of-war developing for more than just her body.

Simon had agreed to share the firm’s fiery, sensually daring
receptionist…to a point. With Simon out of town, Ethan plans a feast of erotic
temptations designed to have Dana begging him to break the deal. He didn’t
realize his heart would be a casualty.

Once she surrenders to his wicked demands, Dana realizes
there’s no going back. It’s time for a three-way renegotiation…this time, all
or nothing.

Warning:
NSFW!! Do Not Try This at Your Job.
Contains highly inappropriate workplace behavior including m/f/m, m/m, bondage,
creative use of office space and a high-stakes trip to Atlantic City.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Restraining the Receptionist:

My unpredictable number one boss showed up in a new mood the
next day. I’d never seen him light-hearted before. Now that I had an idea about
his history, not a big surprise. But that’s exactly how he seemed when he
breezed into the office. He wore casual clothes, blue jeans and a light blue
open-collared shirt that made his eyes look like summer without the smog.

“I’ve got no pesky clients today, luv,” he told me, without
pausing by my desk to check my outfit, which he usually did. “I’d like you to
order us a picnic lunch.”

“Huh?”

“Picnic. You have those in America, right? Or are they
banned in the great state of New York?”

“We have them, but you can’t even spread out a blanket
without kicking aside a stray used needle or two.” As soon as I said it I remembered
the heroin. “I…I’m sorry,” I stammered.

But my thoughtless reference didn’t make him miss a beat. “A
little local color will add to the experience, I’m sure. Handle the details and
we’ll go around noon.”

Did a picnic violate the terms of our deal? Ethan and I
would be doing something outside of work, just the two of us, something
intimate. Almost like a date. But he hadn’t suggested anything physical. It was
lunch. We both had to eat, right? It seemed perfectly harmless.

Since I was working from the company petty cash fund, I called
up the neighborhood yuppie café where they served giant organic sandwiches. On
my budget, I would have gone for a Subway footlong. But Ethan would no doubt
demand something better.

We held our picnic on a concrete bench in a sweltering park
a few blocks away from the office. Dog walkers and stroller-pushers, listless
from the heat, wandered by now and then, but otherwise we were alone. The humid
heat pressed on us like a steam iron. My hair stuck to my cheeks as I bit into
my upscale sandwich.

Ethan didn’t comment on the slabs of free-range chicken that
had probably been hand-raised and read bedtime stories before being slaughtered
and inserted into a sandwich. He did remove the unruly mound of bean sprouts
and toss it to a nearby pigeon. The pigeon pecked at the stuff, clucked
scornfully and waddled the other direction.

I couldn’t help giggling at Ethan’s wounded expression. “I
wouldn’t take it personally,” I told him. “He’s a New York pigeon. He’s used to
eating dog crap.”

He chuckled. “Have you lived here your whole life, Dana?”

The sheer ordinariness of the question unnerved me. “Well,
except for that semester abroad in Paris, and the year I spent in Fiji with the
Peace Corps. I’m joking,” I added, when he didn’t laugh.

“Oh. Well, I’m certainly familiar with your sense of humor,
but I confess I don’t understand the joke. You could have done those things.”

I let out a spurt of laughter that startled the pigeon. “I
had other things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Like dodge my father’s fists after a drinking binge.”

“Ah.” Ethan didn’t show sympathy or disapproval or anything
else. He chewed on his stack of multi-grain goodness. “And your mother?”

“No clue. My father always said she ran away, but for all I
know he has her body dismembered in a freezer somewhere.”

That earned me a sharp taste of Blue Fury.

“I’m kidding. I have a dark sense of humor. My father’s not
that bad. And my stepmother would have gone for poison instead.”

A crack of laughter from Ethan. “You really are something,
you know that? You fascinate me.”

I filled my mouth with sandwich so I didn’t have to answer
that. I was very much afraid the fascination was mutual. We settled into a
munching, digesting kind of silence. He had one ankle crossed over the opposite
knee, and occasionally his bent leg would brush against mine. Every time it
happened, a little jolt of awareness zinged straight to my groin. Did he know it
was happening? Was he doing it deliberately?

“Your knee keeps touching me.”

“Does it?” He didn’t move away.

“That’s against the rules.”

“So sorry.” But he didn’t look sorry. He looked entirely
unconcerned, even though he moved his knee away. “One of these days we must
write these rules down. For instance, is all physical contact forbidden while
Simon is away, or only that of a sexual nature?”

Lord, why did he have to say “sexual” with that spark in his
eyes and that slant of his eyebrow? It wasn’t fair, damn it.

“Another example. I’ve been longing to tell you how
delicious you look today and how the shadow of your nipples through the fabric
of your blouse keeps drawing my eyes. But is verbal praise also off-limits,
since I’d be unable to keep it G-rated, I’m afraid?”

“You can’t see my nipples through my blouse!” I looked down
to make sure.

“Oh, yes, I can. I know what they’re doing right now.
They’re just beginning to stir to life. You’re probably feeling a pleasant
prickling as they become engorged. I’ve realized something about you, you know.
The sound of my voice has a powerful effect on you.”

So right he was. I tried to block out his voice. Might as
well try to stop the Hudson River.

“In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I could bring you to
orgasm just with my voice. I wouldn’t have to touch you at all. All I’d have to
do is tell you what I wanted to do to you. I’d tell you how much I want to bend
you over this bench and take you in the open air. Or how much I’d like to tie
you to that birch tree over there, open your blouse and bring you to orgasm
with my fist up your cunt. Sure, someone might see. For instance, those three
fellows playing Frisbee over there. It’s entirely possible they’d start to
notice when I tied your hands behind the tree and ripped off your blouse. Maybe
they’d even come running to your rescue.”

His gravelly voice hypnotized me so I could practically
picture the scene. My body melted into a shivery puddle of craving.

“And then, of course, I’d have no choice but to invite them
to join us, either as witnesses or participants. They look like red-blooded,
able-bodied, clean-cut gentlemen, nothing to fear. I’d have to convince them
you were willing. More than willing. Eager. I’d have to show them how wet you
already were, just from having your breasts exposed. You like being exposed,
don’t you?”

“Stop,” I murmured. This was going into an area we’d never
touched. Other men had had no place in our games so far.

As soon as I told him to stop, he did. And as soon as he
did, I wanted him to start again. After all, what was the harm? He was going
there in imagination only.

“Well…” I cleared my throat. “Would you let them touch my
breasts?”

“I’d give them a chance, see how they behaved. Not just
anyone gets to touch my Dana. Our Dana, I should say.”