Table of Contents

Title Page

Blurb

Other Books by Ella Sheridan

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Also by Ella Sheridan

About the Author

ONLY FOR THE WEEKEND

If Only 1

Ella Sheridan

Blurb

Jane Jacobs is ready for a change. She’s determined that a history of lackluster relationships and even more lackluster pleasure will end this weekend, when she meets the Dom her best friend has set her up with. Exploring dominance and submission with her blind “date” could answer all her questions—and help her forget the one man she wants to master her.

With his band on hiatus, Vincent O’Connell grabs the chance to visit his sister in Vegas, but she wants a favor more than a family reunion. V.’s not above indulging himself with a willing sub, but when he realizes the sub is his sister’s best friend, Jane, all his instincts scream at him to back out—and fast.

V knows Jane; she’s young, pretty, sweet. Definitely sub material—for someone else. But one look at her on her knees and all the reasons to avoid her disappear. She needs a Dom to guide her, and he needs to indulge himself with just a taste. After all, it's only for the weekend.

Other Books by Ella Sheridan

Secrets To Hide

Dirty Little Secret

Naughty Little Christmas

Just a Little More

If Only

Only for the Weekend

Only for the Night (Coming April 2016)

Southern Nights

Teach Me

Trust Me

Take Me

For all the latest news on Ella’s books, sign up for her monthly newsletter.

Copyright

If Only: Only for the Weekend

Copyright © December 2015 by Ella Sheridan

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Editor: Rory Olsen

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer at Simply Defined Art

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

For the girl who was.

Chapter One

God, it was hot.

The desert wind blasted Jane’s hair back from her face as she walked out of the sliding doors of the Las Vegas airport. Heat soaked through the base of her heels to sear her toes, and she imagined the sudden sweat popping out on her forehead looked nothing like the “glistening” most women claimed they did in the heat. No, she was definitely sweating. And hot. Really hot.

But at least her dress was cool.

The Marilyn Monroe lookalike was intended to give her confidence, and it certainly did that. The halter top left her shoulders bare, the nipped-in waist made her feel incredibly sexy, and the filmy skirt flitted teasingly in the air, reminding her of the scene in The Seven Year Itch where Marilyn stopped over the subway grate. Vegas didn’t have subway grates, but at least if the skirt hit the air in similar fashion, her new lacy underwear wouldn’t leave her embarrassed—much. Since she wasn’t in the habit of showing strangers her underwear, some embarrassment was inevitable, but not the ratty-panties kind.

You’re about to show a guy a lot more than your panties, Jane. Remember that.

The sudden flush in her cheeks had nothing to do with the air temperature. She wasn’t letting it stop her, though. She planned to do a lot in Las Vegas that would have her blushing; she might as well get used to it now.

The sudden sound of crickets chirping came from her purse. Her cell phone. More specifically, Kennedy’s ringtone—inside joke, since when they got together there was never any silence. Her best friend was probably running late, like always. Too many irons in the fire and not enough hands. Jane fished her phone out while she peered around the area. Where were the signs she needed?

“Hello?”

“Are you here?”

Jane grinned. “Just walked out of the airport.”

“Great!”

Jane could hear Kennedy shifting the phone around. Her voice was breathless, like she was hurrying somewhere. Definitely not in a car. A sinking feeling settled in Jane’s stomach. “You’re not out here waiting for me, are you?” she asked.

“You know me very well,” Kennedy said. “We had an unexpected crisis with a VIP event—it’s missing its VIP. But I sent James with the limo. Things should be settled by the time you get here.”

Kennedy had been at the Sovereign Resort and Spa for six months now, assistant manager of event planning. Jane couldn’t be more proud of her, even though it meant Kennedy no longer lived nearby. This was the first chance she’d had to fly out since her friend moved to Nevada.

Kennedy was half mumbling to someone near her and half instructing Jane where to go. Jane squinted at a sign to her left, but the letters blurred into a white blob on a blue background. With a sigh she fumbled her prescription sunglasses out of her purse and onto her nose. The utilitarian frames didn’t go with her fifties dress, more fitting her everyday image—stuffy librarian—but the instant they were on, everything went from fuzzy to crisp and the sign became readable.

“So where do I find the limo?” she asked Kennedy.

A few hushed, impatient words reached her ears, then, “Go to the reserved pickup area.”

The sign in front of her didn’t help, so she glanced around for another farther down. “I qualify for something reserved?” she asked.

“Of course! Now which door did you come out of?”

Jane told her.

“Good. Go left.”

She did, a little laugh escaping. Kennedy knew exactly how directionally—and optically—challenged Jane was. Being talked through the maze that was McCarran International would save her numerous trips backward when she got lost.

Heat waves curled up from the sidewalk despite the overhead canopy protecting it and her from the sun. The crowds, seeming unaffected by the heat, mingled in clumps, blocking her way as they waited for buses to take them to their respective lodging. Her heels added three inches to her height, just enough that she wasn’t swamped and blind in the swarm of people, but it was Kennedy’s directions that led her to reserved pickup without a hitch. Hopefully her friend had been equally successful finding what Jane needed for this visit.

Jane wasn’t sure she wanted to ask. Yes, she’d made this decision on her own—the Big Decision, capital letters—and what Kennedy had offered to do was the linchpin in this being a success, but a part of her hoped Kennedy hadn’t found anyone. After all, if Kennedy didn’t succeed, Jane wouldn’t have to put herself out there, so to speak.

All of me. Everything.

She stepped to one side, out of the flow of traffic, her grip on her phone making her fingers ache.

“Um, Kennedy, did you—”

“No, that won’t work!” Kennedy yelled in her ear. Jane jerked the phone far enough from her face to stare at it, as if the device could explain the problem. It stared silently back at her, but when she returned it to her ear, Kennedy was apologizing. “I’m sorry, Jane, but if I ever want to get away, I have to deal with this. I’ll see you in a few.”

“But—”

The line went dead. Kennedy was gone.

Jane wasn’t sure if that was a relief or not.

Just ahead, a section of the curbs on both sides of the road were labeled RESERVED. Since the area was empty, no limo in sight, Jane took her time, letting the swish of her skirt against her legs and the faint kick of wind soothe her rioting nerves. Lane, her ex, had hated this dress when she picked it out. Of course, he’d hated a lot of things, including what she’d suggested to spice up their mundane sex life, which was why he was her ex. She was twenty-six, not sixty; she shouldn’t have the sex life of a middle-aged woman. She’d suspected for a long time that what she needed couldn’t be had from Lane anyway—or any other man she’d dated, for that matter. They were all too…nice. She didn’t want a nice sex life. Passion, yes. Fire, definitely. To be controlled—at least, she hoped that’s what she needed. Otherwise this was all going to be a complete clusterfuck.

Her thoughts drifted without permission to the one time she’d experienced that fire. The memory stirred more nerves, though, and she shoved it forcefully away.

A black stretch limo turned the corner ahead. As it prowled toward her, Jane’s glasses allowed her to see the white square sign in the front window: JACOBS. That was her. Hitching her overnight case higher on her shoulder, she moved forward and raised a hand to gain the driver’s attention.

Before the vehicle could reach her, a hotel bus zoomed around the bend. Jane was close enough she could see the driver’s eyes go wide at the obstruction directly in front of him. To avoid rear-ending the limo, he whipped into the second lane. The rush of wind from the passing bus caught the hem of her skirt and, just like in The Seven Year Itch, threw the material into the air before Jane could put her hand down to catch it. She knew exactly how unsuccessful she was by the sudden coolness bathing her upper thighs—and the limo driver’s expression as he pulled to a stop at the curb.

A wolf whistle sounded behind her, then another one. Smoothing a hand over her bottom to be sure it was now covered, Jane chanced a look over her shoulder. Several tourists had dropped their bags and stopped their conversations to gawk in her direction. The awful rush of heat up her neck returned, damn it. How was she going to get through a night with a Dom if she couldn’t get down the street without blushing to death?

And then, just for a moment, she saw something that sent the blood in her cheeks back so fast Jane thought she might faint. A man, walking away from her, the details of his body obscured by the sudden glare of sunlight as he moved beyond the covered walkway in front of the airport. All she could make out was that he was tall, his shoulders broad and heavy and—her heart thudded—seemingly familiar, as was the glint of ginger in his hair. She caught a hint of sunglasses and pale skin as he turned to look at something nearby, and then he moved around the end of the building and was gone.

Not from her mind, though. Her heart was beating the inside of her ribs like it wanted to break out and follow the man, which was ridiculous because he couldn’t be who she thought he was. He couldn’t. Kennedy would’ve told her if Vincent was visiting Vegas at the same time. And Jane would’ve stayed home to avoid him, like she’d been doing for the past seven years, ten months, and she-really-needed-to-forget-how-many days.

But he wasn’t here. Weekend Washout, the indie rock band Vincent was a part of, had become a huge success several years ago. Kennedy had bragged just last night that V. was on the road again. Probably a different city every night. A different girl. Not that Jane was thinking about that. Or him. Ever again. Even if he was the reason she’d started on this godforsaken road down exploration lane.

Of course, the road would feel much less bumpy if she didn’t see his ghost around every corner. There was more than one sexy redhead with broad shoulders in the world. She just needed to get over what had happened and get a move on. Her future was waiting.

A throat clearing behind her dragged Jane’s attention back to the present. “Hello, miss. You wouldn’t happen to be Ms. O’Connell’s guest, by chance?”

She turned from staring after her mystery guy to find the driver of the limo standing in front of her, proper black uniform, cap, and all. His accent was even proper English. She didn’t know if it was real, but it was charming, as were his smiling blue eyes. Appreciative blue eyes, even if he was nearer fifty than twenty-five. Apparently her lacy underwear could be relished at any age.

She scrambled to get her thoughts together and held out her hand. “Yes, Jane.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Jane. I am James.”

James, really? She barely held back a home, James!

The chauffeur didn’t seem to notice her sudden amusement, or maybe he was used to it. “Ms. O’Connell described you perfectly.” The man took her hand and actually bowed over it briefly. Did they teach that in chauffeur school, along with the accent and the proper name to use? Everything in Vegas was a show, it seemed. “May I take your bag, miss?”

An enjoyable show. She gave James her sweetest smile and a thank-you.

Her overnight case was summarily stored and Jane escorted to the rear passenger door of the limousine. Before she stepped inside, she couldn’t help one last glance at the spot where the mystery guy had stood. The yearning she’d fought for so many years bubbled up, aching for a single glimpse of his face, his smile, his eyes, but the crowd was empty of anything familiar. The man, so much like Vincent, was gone, leaving her behind just like the real Vincent had.

Jane slid into the seat and adjusted her skirt over her knees. V. might’ve left her behind all those years ago, but this weekend it was her turn—and she intended to do exactly the same. She had a life to live, and she was about to learn exactly how to live it.

Chapter Two

Vincent O’Connell stared into his sister’s wide, sweetly innocent eyes. “You did what?”

“I’ve hired you out.”

“As a drummer?”

“As a Dom.”

He stared a minute longer, opened his mouth, then shut it again. His kid sister had grown into a beautiful woman, but V. knew her too well to fall for the look in her eyes. Of all the harebrained schemes she’d come up with over the years, this beat them all. “I love you,” he finally said, “but I really might strangle you this time.”

Kennedy’s pretty face lit up as she began to laugh. “You should see…the look…your…” She laughed so hard and long that she finally bent, clutching her belly with one hand and V. with the other in an effort not to face-plant. V. resisted the impulse to push her over like he had when he was a snotty teenager and she a giggly five-year-old. He didn’t resist the urge to pull her into a headlock, though, and rub his knuckles on the top of her head.

“Vinny!” she squealed.

Now it was his turn to laugh. No matter how sophisticated she might look, his baby sister was still in there.

Kennedy elbowed him in the gut. “Ow. You’re mean.”

He let go, still chuckling, watching her straighten the long length of auburn hair their Scottish ancestry had blessed her with. Kennedy shot him her infamous death glare and stalked toward the seating area in her suite. Though the furnishings all came with the complimentary suite in the Sovereign as a perk of Kennedy’s position, the decor fit her perfectly—elegant but not fussy. A hint of feminine and a hint of business, judging by the massive desk he could see through the French doors separating the living area from a study. That was Kennedy: work hard; enjoy life. He would be forever grateful she’d taken after him in that area.

Her work was paying off. The level of luxury she was living in wasn’t anything they’d been privy to growing up. Not because their parents hadn’t had the money for it, but because the two of them had pretty much been raised in boarding schools. His parents would check in periodically from whatever corner of the world they were partying in, but it had been V. and Kennedy for as long as either one of them could remember. The ten-year age difference had pushed V. into a psuedo-father position in his parents’ absence, but he’d never regretted the responsibility. He loved his sister, and seeing her blossoming in the career she’d chosen, building a life for herself…nothing could make him happier.

“Okay, Sis.” V. crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Kennedy took a seat on the sofa. “Explain yourself.”

“When you stop looming,” she countered. Satisfaction gleamed in her eyes when he sat next to her, turned so he could see her face.

“Kennedy,” he growled.

“Fine,” she huffed. “I didn’t really hire you out.” She kicked off a heel and tucked that foot underneath her, reminding him of a teenager despite the business suit she wore.

“Good. I’m not a stud for hire.” He might have an active sex life, but he didn’t sleep with women for money. He didn’t have to; all most women needed to know was that he was a drummer and they’d fall at his feet, whether his band was successful or not. Weekend Washout never lacked for groupies, not that he slept with them. He wasn’t a freshman musician with more testosterone than sense anymore.

He raised a demanding eyebrow at his sister.

If she noticed, Kennedy didn’t show it. Instead she dropped her gaze to her lap and pulled a stray string off her skirt. “Actually…” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

He refrained from yelling—just barely. That hadn’t done him much good at the door, and it wouldn’t get him anywhere now. His voice was rougher than he’d like, though, when he said, “Explain.”

Straightening her shoulders, Kennedy met his gaze. “I got a call from Jane last week.”

V.’s gut tightened. “Jane?”

“Yes, Jane,” she said impatiently. “My best friend, Jane? You are so hopeless.”

“I hope not, considering you brought me here to do you a favor. I know which Jane you’re talking about.” As if he could ever forget. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his eyes, hoping to hide exactly how much he remembered from his too-observant sis. “Get on with it.”

“She’s been…unhappy with her current relationship for a while. Actually, she hasn’t been happy with her last couple of boyfriends, but I didn’t really understand why until she called to tell me she and Lane had broken up.” Kennedy’s mouth twisted into something not quite a smile, not quite a frown. “We got to talking about what, specifically, was the problem—”

V. put his hand up to ward off the rest. Jane’s relationships were the last thing he wanted to discuss. The history between him and Jane—history his sister knew absolutely nothing about, he was pretty sure—might be water under the bridge, but that didn’t mean he wanted to think about her with anyone else.

Kennedy wouldn’t be denied, though. “No, Vinny, this is important. See, we were talking, and I started to realize that some of their…compatibility issues are because Jane is…uh…submissive.”

Fuck. Now he was starting to get the picture. His fingers began a steady beat on his thigh as he struggled to bring his racing thoughts under control. “And you want me to talk to her about BDSM.”

There weren’t many secrets between him and his sister. When she’d read 50 Shades and started questioning things, he’d openly discussed his natural need to dominate and what that might look like in a hypothetical relationship. Though ultimately not drawn to the D/s dynamic herself, Kennedy was well educated enough to recognize the tendency in her best friend.

“Not exactly.”

“Then what exactly?” He couldn’t keep a bit of bite out of his words.

Kennedy took a deep breath as if steeling herself against something. Not a good sign. His gut tightened again.

“Jane actually asked about hiring an…escort that could dominate her.”

He thought the top of his head might just fly off. “She didn’t. You didn’t,” he growled.

“No, idiot,” she insisted, her words as loud as his were low, “I didn’t.” She stared into his eyes, but she wasn’t really seeing him, he could tell. “She wants to learn but doesn’t know anyone in the lifestyle. She didn’t know what to look for if she went to a club, and didn’t feel safe with a stranger.”

V. wasn’t quite ready to give an inch. The thought of Jane with a stranger—okay, with anyone, but especially a stranger—made him feel like his blood was boiling in his veins. “She wouldn’t know an escort either.”

“But I would.” Kennedy shrugged. “That was it. She thought, this being Vegas, that I might’ve met someone in the lifestyle that she could trust. A personal recommendation, so to speak.”

“You told her no, obviously.”

This time her stare connected, but she didn’t speak. She just waited, her determination ticking like a clock between them, until the truth finally smacked him between the eyes.

“You’re hiring me?”

“She’s my best friend, Vinny. I’m not gonna hand her over to have sex with just anybody!”

“And you’re not handing her over to have sex with me either.” Frustration drove him to his feet to pace across the room until the floor-to-ceiling windows stopped him. If only Kennedy knew. Jane would probably prefer to castrate him, even now, eight years later. She certainly wouldn’t want to be vulnerable to him, not the way a sub was vulnerable with their Dom. Even considering it was an enormous mistake. He scrambled for anything that might deter her.

“Jane’s just a kid.” Ten years his junior, like Kennedy was.

“She’s not a kid. She’s my age, and I have sex all the time.”

He shot his sister a withering look. “Now stop that shit right now.”

Kennedy’s eyebrow cocked up. “The sex?”

“Telling me about it.” He shuddered. “It may or may not happen, but I do not need to know.”

Kennedy’s smirk was salt in the wound. “My brother the perv is freaked out by his baby sister’s vanilla sex life.”

“Yes. Very.”

It took a moment, but eventually he was able to join the slightest smile with Kennedy’s laughter. His sister’s amusement eased some of the tension stringing his body tight, enough that he could return to the couch. Kennedy patted his leg when he sat beside her.

“She’s always had a bit of a crush on you, ya know.”

He kept his sigh inside. Damn right, he knew. What Kennedy and especially Jane didn’t know was that the feeling had always been mutual. Which spelled certain disaster if he gave in to what his sister wanted.

He didn’t say it aloud; instead he deflected. “Jane isn’t a one-night-stand kind of girl.” He knew that much—all too well.

“She’s not looking for forever, just a quickie intro to BDSM.” She tilted her head, seeming to consider her words. An impish grin tugged at her lips. “Well, not a quickie, really, but you get the idea.”

His frown probably made him seem like a stuffy old geezer, but what the hell… “Yeah, I get it.” All too well. Perversely, the assumption that he was available to be used for the night bothered him. “Thanks, Sis. I’m good enough to stud out but not good enough for more than one night?”

He mentally kicked his own ass. Why was he even arguing about this? He didn’t want more than one night. He’d always said so, a fact Kennedy quickly reminded him of.

“‘Commitment takes time,’” she quoted.

He’d said those three words so many times, and never regretted them. His band had been all the commitment he had room for besides Kennedy. It had always been true, but now Weekend Washout was on hiatus for who knew how long—at least until Chad came back from gallivanting around Europe with his latest lover. V. and Hank were exploring possible projects, true, but even then he had way too much time on his hands.

But not time for a commitment, V. You’re not commitment material. If you were, you’d have taken Jane up on her offer eight years ago, whether she was eighteen or not.

No… Okay, maybe. He really didn’t know. He’d like to think he was a better man than to take advantage of an eighteen-year-old girl’s infatuation, but this was Jane they were talking about. And whether it was eight years ago or now, the thought of having her for far longer than a single night reverberated in his chest with more force than the echo of his bass drum.

“What if she finds out? What happens then?”

“I guess that depends on how good you are.”

He cursed. Fluently.

“Vinny.” Kennedy closed her eyes, probably praying for patience, but when she opened them again, determination shone through. “Jane is a sweet person who’s just trying to find her way through this.” She sat forward. “You’re my brother. I trust you, and most of all, I trust you with her. Please, just… Please help her.”

V. thought about her words for a long moment, thought about his first faltering forays into a nonvanilla sex life, how much easier it would’ve been if he’d had a guiding hand. He considered the pleading in Kennedy’s eyes, and the fact that she might hand him his balls if he said no. And finally, he let himself picture Jane, the pretty eighteen-year-old he’d rejected and the quietly beautiful woman he’d seen in Kennedy’s frequent pictures. Could he really let Jane make herself vulnerable that way with anyone else? Could he turn his back knowing she wouldn’t be safe? Because she would continue to explore; that much he knew. He wouldn’t have been able to stop his own search, safety or not. Jane needed to find her answers, but no way in hell could he allow her to do it alone.

His sigh was pure capitulation. Kennedy heard it and smiled.

“All right,” he told her, “I’ll do it—but on one condition.” He thought about that a moment. “Two, actually.”

Kennedy’s triumph dimmed a bit. “Okay.”

“Anonymity. I don’t want her knowing who I am. No, Kenn,” he said firmly before she could interrupt. “This could affect your friendship later. She could feel awkward, avoiding you if she thinks I’ll be there.” He normally had no issue with having sex with a woman he’d just met, if they both knew the score, but not Kennedy’s best friend. It wasn’t the only reason for the caveat, but it was a good one. The other… Well, Jane would never knowingly let him near her, much less trust him if she knew he was the one with her, not after what had happened between them. “Anonymity is a must.”

Emotion warred in Kennedy’s eyes, but she finally gave in. “You’re the right person for this job,” she said and sighed. “I guess what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. She’d never see any other guy I picked again, right?”

“Right.” He said the word she wanted to hear even though he didn’t think it was necessarily true. If they hit it off, Jane would probably see another Dom again. Not him, though. She wouldn’t see him the first time if she knew.

Kennedy reluctantly nodded. “And?”

He squared his shoulders. “And no sex.”

“But—”

V. shook his head. “I can teach her what she needs to know without it. Hell, some subs get more of a release from the submission than they do an orgasm.” For him D/s was all about the sex, but that wasn’t the case across the board. “Jane is vulnerable, and I won’t take advantage of that. I can’t.”

“So…you won’t touch her at all?”

“Oh, I’ll touch her.” A lot, probably. More than was good for his sanity. “But no full-on sex.”

Kennedy agreed, but the uncertainty wrinkling the corners of her eyes said what she wouldn’t say aloud. No sex meant Jane’s fantasy might go unfulfilled. But he’d rather give her something and leave them both unscarred than indulge himself in something he’d dreamed about for longer than had been appropriate and hurt Jane in the process. If Kennedy knew the whole story, she wouldn’t have any doubts.

All V. had doubts about was his ability not to go too far. This was Jane, after all. The woman he’d fantasized about dominating since she was eighteen years old.

Heaven help him.

Chapter Three

Kennedy’s office felt like a six-by-six cell, every drop of air sucked out by her friend’s words. “Anonymous?”

As if she could read Jane’s sudden burst of insecurity in that one word, Kennedy bent, taking her hand despite the fact that she was standing and Jane had sunk into the cushioned chair in front of Kennedy’s desk. The deep luxury of the seat didn’t help cushion the blow, however, nor did Kennedy’s touch. Every doubt Jane had about this adventure, this decision had come roaring back to life at the knowledge that the man she was about to meet, in a very intimate way, didn’t want his identity known.

Why? Was it because he was an escort? Sure, Jane wasn’t paying him—this was supposed to be a favor to Kennedy—but maybe anonymity was how he normally did things. She hoped this was how he normally did things, because there was only one other reason she could think of that would explain keeping his identity secret.

He didn’t want Jane in particular to know who he was.

“You…um…you showed him the pictures?”

She’d insisted on it. She hadn’t wanted a man “volunteering” to play with her—that’s what they called it, right? Play?—if he wasn’t at least attracted to her. No, she wasn’t looking for a relationship, but neither did she want to be someone’s pity fuck.

And okay, yes, she had considered seeing him again if they were both interested. Didn’t every woman? That made her human, not needy.

“Of course I showed him.” Kennedy knelt beside Jane’s chair. Her grip on Jane’s hand tightened the slightest bit. “This is not about you, Jane. He’s seen you. He definitely wants you.” A grin spread across her face, assuring Jane that, about this at least, she was being completely open. “You are not the issue. He is. This is just how he does things.”

An underlying something in Kennedy’s tone prickled at the back of Jane’s mind. Her friend was being honest, but she wasn’t a hundred percent happy about this setup. Jane wasn’t either, but what choice did she really have?

Not much. She’d just traveled three hundred miles for a date—or, apparently, a one-night stand.

That didn’t mean she could shake off the need for reassurance. “But you know him, right?” she asked.

Kennedy released Jane’s hand and went back to leaning her hip against the edge of her desk. “Absolutely. I know him very well, in fact.”

“You haven’t slept with him, have you?”

The horror on Kennedy’s face would’ve made Jane laugh under any other circumstances. “God, no! You think I’d set you up with someone I’d seen naked?”

Circumstances or not, that did elicit a chuckle. “No, I guess not.”

“You guess not,” Kennedy muttered. “Good grief. Of course not. And besides,” Kennedy said smugly, “you know I don’t swing that way.”

No, Kennedy was definitely more vanilla than anything. She preferred her sex straightforward and uncomplicated. Many times over the past few months, Jane had wished she was more like that. Lane had harassed her no end about her lack of orgasms whenever they were together, as if the fact that she wasn’t getting off with him made her abnormal. Of course, needing something more than “normal” was, technically, abnormal; she’d finally decided to accept it instead of shying away from the knowledge, but insecurities like that didn’t disappear overnight.

Trying to inject a little lightness into the conversation—and her thoughts—she teased, “Are you calling me kinky?”

Kennedy laughed as she straightened to round her desk. “Own it, girlfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Own it. Like the Marilyn Monroe dress. Why was wearing what made her feel sexy any different than doing what excited her sexually?

It isn’t; you know that. Just be patient with yourself.

And with the situation. She was getting what she came for, and seeing the guy’s face, knowing his name hadn’t been part of the rules. Had she thought they went without saying? Yes. But they weren’t what truly mattered. What mattered was that he could show her what D/s was like, in a safe environment.

Time to get this show on the road. She rubbed her hands down her thighs. “So what do I need to do now?”

Kennedy picked up a sheaf of papers sitting atop the blotter. “You fill these out.”

“These?” Taking the papers from her friend, she glanced at the bolded heading on the top page. Submissive’s Contract.

“What’s this?” As if she didn’t know. But something about holding the contract in her hand, physical proof of what she was about to do, made reality sink its claws in deep. She was about to have a D/s scene with someone she didn’t know, had never met. She was actually going through with it.

Kennedy stated the obvious, sans sarcasm, thank goodness. “It’s a contract.”

“Right.” She flipped through the pages briefly before coming back to the first page. “And where’s his?”

“He doesn’t need one. You do.”

“Oh.” She zeroed in on the first paragraph, reconsidered, and looked back up. “Why?”

Kennedy folded her hands primly on the desk. “Because,” she said, mimicking the tone Jane used with elementary-school children during the library’s story time, “the sub is the one in control. You set the limits; you determine what is and is not allowed. That’s why you have a safe word.”

“But what about the Dom’s limits?”

Kennedy dropped the schoolteacher act and shrugged. “No idea. I only know what he told me. I guess if you ask for something he feels he can’t do, he’ll let you know.”

Jane shuffled through the myriad BDSM information she’d gathered in her head while researching the past couple of months. “Because a Dom’s job is to give the sub what she needs. The sub’s job is to let go and submit.”

“Sounds about right to me,” Kennedy said. “Now get to work.”

Jane took her time reading, comparing what was on the paper to what she’d read about “safe, sane, and consensual.” The wording was detailed, clear, and fit with the few examples she’d seen online. Only when she got to the end of the contract and the lists that made up the final pages did she stop. “Uh, Kennedy?”

Her friend turned from the computer screen where she’d been working and focused on Jane. “What, hon?”

Jane held up the contract, pages splayed so that Kennedy could see her problem. “I don’t even know what some of this stuff is.”

Kennedy giggled, the sound reminiscent of their teen sleepover days. “I thought you were the kinky one.”

“Apparently not as kinky as I thought.”

Kennedy scooted her rolling chair over, took the pages, and glanced through them. The woman didn’t even blush, which told Jane just how much off-the-wall stuff her friend had been exposed to during her months in Sin City. “These are inclusive lists, not exclusive—you’re supposed to mark what you’re interested in rather than what you refuse to do.” She looked from the contract to Jane and back again. “Maybe mark things you both understand and are interested in?”

“But what—” Jane bit her lip. “God, this is hard.”

“At least you hope it is,” Kennedy joked.

Jane rolled her eyes. “What if he thinks I’m…boring?” She had already agreed to bare her body to a stranger. Baring her desires…?

She recognized the ridiculousness of the fear the moment it crystallized in her brain. BDSM was, after all, kink, and he already knew she desired to submit. Telling him she was or was not willing to use nipple clamps or have anal sex wasn’t all that different.

Maybe she had way too many insecurities for this. Or not enough balls.

Kennedy opened her mouth to speak, most likely to reassure her, but Jane brushed it away. “No, never mind. That’s silly. I’m being silly.” She took back the contract and began checking her preferences—the ones she knew, anyway.

Kennedy’s hand atop hers stopped the frantic rush to get this over with. Jane glanced up, meeting her friend’s understanding gaze.

“It’s not silly.” She squeezed Jane’s suddenly cold fingers. “Look, my friend has a lot of experience at this, okay? He knows what he’s doing, or I wouldn’t let him anywhere near you. This is just to explore. The contract states that everything stops if you feel you can’t go through with it. Your safe words are chosen. He knows this is your first time in a D/s dynamic. No surprises, and no thinking you’re boring. Get that outta your head. Besides”—she nodded at the papers—“that stuff right there is enough to wrap your head around.”

Jane glanced down. Her pen hovered over the words ménage M/M/F. “It certainly is, isn’t it?”

Kennedy’s light chuckle blended with Jane’s more hesitant one. She tapped the paperwork. “Get that done so you can get ready. My friend’s already here, and you don’t want to be late.”

Jane glanced at the clock. No, she didn’t want to risk being late, and five o’clock was fast approaching. She didn’t want to risk punishment—not yet, anyway—so she got back to work.

Chapter Four

The quiet snick of the door opening quickened his heartbeat. He knew what Jane saw as she walked in—a dark, still room, a single recessed light illuminating the space before a large seating area. Shadowed corners. Emptiness. She knew she was meeting him here, but not that he was already waiting in the room.

He took the time to look her over, holding back the breath that threatened to escape too loudly as he did so. She was as lovely as he remembered. Shoulder-length blonde hair curled around her head, making his fingers twitch with the need to twine the soft strands around them. Her eyes were dark in the dim light, a contrast to those flirty curls and a reflection of the seriousness of her soul. Full pink lips trembled with nerves, as did the hands currently clasped tightly together in front of her. Anticipation swelled in his chest. He would soothe those nerves, but not yet; sometimes a little fear could go a long way with a sub.

Lovely wasn’t the word to describe her body. Sexy, definitely. Earth-shattering. His heart beat triple time in his throat as his gaze moved over her. A tight-fitting white button-down, top buttons open to reveal the upper swell of her round breasts. A short, curves-skimming black skirt. As she turned to close the door behind her, he glimpsed a thin band of lace through a small slit up the back. Only the briefest hint, but blood pooled in his groin immediately at the sight of her stockings, the old-fashioned kind that attached to garters and a garter belt. So like Jane—shy and yet intensely provocative, all at once. He couldn’t fucking wait to see those pale thighs framed by the sexiest garment a woman could ever put on her body.

With a stern reminder to his anatomy that sex wasn’t in the cards, at least not for him—a reminder his body laughed at—he shifted his weight, bringing him barely into the edge of the light. “Jane.”

He kept his voice low, but still she startled. The trembling in her hands increased. She tugged her full bottom lip between her teeth in a way that made him want to bite as well, but not yet. He waited, instead, forcing control so that she could look her fill.

Her gaze took in his half mask first, a piece of soft black fabric covering the top half of his face and head, leaving everything but his eyes and jaw and ears a mystery. Even most of his hair was covered, and what could be seen at the back of his head hopefully didn’t shine too brilliantly red in the shadowed room. She measured the width of his shoulders, his height. Her nostrils flared as if trying to breathe him in, to determine who he was, whether or not she was safe, by scent alone.

She didn’t speak. Good.

“Come in,” he told her.

A hesitant “Yes, Sir” accompanied her steps farther into the light. The yellow glow lit a fire in her hair as she tucked her chin, dropping her gaze to the vicinity of his boots. The Dom in him purred its approval.

“Kneel for me, Jane.”

There was no hesitation this time. With a feminine grace rare in a first-time sub, she sank to her knees. Head still bowed, knees parted just enough to show off the lace atop her stockings, hands at the small of her back.

His gut clenched. She’d been practicing. For him.

Logically he knew it hadn’t been for him personally. She didn’t know the masked Dom before her was the man she’d propositioned as a teenager. She only knew the mask hid a Dom. But telling himself that didn’t stop the flare of possession and satisfaction burning its way through his chest.

Ignoring the dangerous emotions inside him, he walked forward, his steps heavy, deliberate. No leather for him except the boots. He’d chosen black button-fly jeans and a black silk shirt. The fabric cupped him, slid along his skin as he moved, and he imagined it was Jane’s hands on him, molding along his cock, brushing his pierced nipples. He barely held back a groan as he circled Jane’s kneeling body.

She turned her head the slightest amount, probably trying to keep him in sight. He laid a single finger along her jawline. “Eyes down.”

Jane shivered as she obeyed. Oh yes, definitely submissive.

He circled her again, this time allowing his finger to trace her lips, her cheekbone, the delicate curve of her ear. As he moved behind her, he delved into her curls, indulging himself in their soft texture before fisting the thick mass and tugging her head back. Jane kept her eyes lowered, but she couldn’t keep her breath from catching, and as he looked down her body, he could see the tight tips of her breasts forced against the fabric of her shirt.

“You’ve read and signed the contract.” A statement. He knew she had; he’d read every line. But he wanted the acknowledgment between them—and to hear her voice.

A moment’s quiet, then, “Yes, Sir.”

That word on her lips… He bent over her, letting her feel his size, his heat, his power. “And you are certain you wish to proceed, sub?”

No pause. “Yes, Sir. I wish to proceed.”

He stood, trailing his fingers through her hair, showing his pleasure at her response. “And what is your safe word?”

Her voice quivered as she responded. “Weekend, Sir.”

Weekend. The word hit him like a two-by-four to the head. A reference to his band, Weekend Washout, or a reminder that she was only his for the weekend?

She’s not yours, dickhead. You’re an experiment, nothing more.

But would he be if she knew who he was?

If she knew who you were, you’d be out on your ass.

He couldn’t forget that. Jane must never find out the identity of her first Dom. And he… Well, he could never forget her. At least he would have this.

He moved away, taking a position between Jane and the light. His shadow covered her. “‘Weekend’ it is. If you feel overwhelmed, need to pause or talk or just catch your breath, you will use ‘yellow.’ Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

That breathy voice, ripe with arousal and fear, threw gasoline on the fire of his lust, threatening to burn out of control. He needed to shut that part of himself down, needed to focus completely on his sub. But just like his body had warned him earlier, he couldn’t. All he could give her was every piece of him—lust, dominance…everything.

“Then stand.”

Without a word Jane rocked back onto her heels and came to her feet. Regret ached in his shaft as the hem of her skirt once more covered the delicate bands of lace circling her thighs, but he was about to see so much more.

“Undress for me, sub.”

Chapter Five

It wasn’t the abrupt strip she’d expected, but it was a command. The tone of his voice and the firm line of his mouth, which she barely dared to glimpse, told her that. Still she blinked, the word what? hovering behind her lips. She refused to let it free. She knew each command was for her to obey. And unlike those women in BDSM romance novels who gave voice to the first thing that entered their minds, she wouldn’t. She would do this right.

“Yes, Sir.”

It was like watching herself in a dream. Her arms lifted, hands searching for and finding the buttons along the front of her dress shirt, though she didn’t remember consciously sending the message for them to do so. Maybe the adrenaline and anxiety had disconnected her somehow. All she knew was the slide of the small circles through each hole, the flaps of fabric slowly beginning to gape over her bare skin, and then the lowering of her arms so that the shirt could slide from her body. The soft cotton caught for a moment on the tips of her breasts, the sensation sending a zing to her core, before gravity pulled it to the floor, baring her to her Dom’s eyes. That’s how she would think of him, as her Dom. She might only have him for a couple of days, she might not have his name, but she had him. And if he wasn’t the Dom she wanted, if brilliant green eyes and red-brown hair flitted through her mind? Well, beggars couldn’t be too picky, could they?

Firming her resolve, she searched for and found the zipper of her skirt at the small of her back. Undoing it lifted her breasts, pushed them toward him, the filmy lace bra she wore doing very little to keep her secrets hidden. She couldn’t tell if his gaze shifted to take in the sight; he was too far from the light. But she imagined it did as she gave her skirt a light push toward the ground.

She didn’t have to imagine his swift intake of breath.

The lace bra-and-panty set was black, like her garter belt and stockings. They made her feel feminine, pretty, not just plain Jane but sexy. Her heart thumped at the knowledge that this stranger was seeing her almost naked. Her only clues to his reactions were his mouth and jaw, voice and breathing. She held her breath, more nervous than she’d expected, and reached behind her for the clasp of her bra.

“Stop.”

Her hands dropped back to her sides. The temptation to roll her eyes was strong—really, if she’d had any doubts about her submissive nature, the automatic response to his every command would lay each one of them to rest.

“Very good, Jane.”

She preferred sub for some reason but held her tongue. Her Dom circled her once, just like before, and though she couldn’t see them well, she could feel the heat of his eyes on her. Touching her. Tracing her body with nothing more than his gaze. The fierce need to please him surprised her. She didn’t know this man. This wasn’t a relationship—this was play. A scene. He wasn’t more than a momentary partner. He wasn’t—

She forced Vincent’s image away. Stay here and now, Jane. Focus. Vincent isn’t yours. He didn’t want you, remember?

“Now what was that thought?” her Dom murmured. The heat of his body seared her naked back. One big hand cupped hers, balled into a fist at her side. Jane consciously relaxed it.

“Nothing, Sir.” It was a lie, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know everything she was thinking.

His grip tightened before he released her hand. “Don’t lie to me, sub.”

A sharp smack seared the bare skin of her lower butt cheek.

Shock jolted through her. And heat. She’d known—hoped—that spanking would turn her on, but God… She hadn’t expected anything like that.

“What was that thought?”

She hadn’t expected his commands to turn her on either. She was still tempted to lie, but she chose not to. What was the point of doing this if she didn’t give it her all?

“I was…thinking of someone else.”

She could hear the note of sadness in the words. Would he hear it? Would he refuse to continue? An intense longing to go through with this, to experience all she could, here, in this room, with this Dom, flooded through her.

When he didn’t respond, she dared to speak. “I was surprised at how much I wanted to please you even though…”

“You don’t know me,” he finished when she couldn’t.

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

Instead of retreating, he stepped into her. For the first time she felt his body fully against hers, his wide chest cradling her back, the firm line of his erection at the base of her spine. His hands skimmed her arms before coming to rest at her wrists, holding her captive. Her heartbeat sped up. Could he could feel her pulse racing beneath his fingertips?

“Trust is built,” he said softly, “but your body knows what it needs.”

And he was so right. The feel of him surrounding her made her weak in the knees. The musky mingled scent of his cologne and male skin filled her senses, and she was only vaguely surprised at the flood of arousal that rose to overtake her nerves. When his hands left her wrists to cup her breasts, she couldn’t stop her head from falling back. It fit perfectly in the hollow of his shoulder.

“Don’t be afraid.” His breath warmed her shoulder, collarbone, throat. “I won’t hurt you.” And then he chuckled, the sound rumbling through him and into her. “At least, not in any ways you don’t want me to.”

Chapter Six

His handprint on her ass was the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever seen. As a rock musician and a Dom, he had a lot of experience with sexy fucking things, but this topped his list. The light was low, but her fair skin marked easily, it seemed. He’d have to remember that.

He moved around her again, brushing his body against hers, testing her boundaries, learning her, letting her learn him. Her heart thudded so hard he could see it, feel it as he ran a fingertip down the side of her neck. The peaks of her nipples still stood out against the lace of her demibra. A mixture of nerves and excitement, arousal and that oh-so-important touch of anxiety. She was more than ready to begin.

So was he.

He didn’t remove his clothes. The dynamic between a clothed Dom and a naked sub was different, electric. He loved it, at least until his cock couldn’t take the constriction any more. He could go a long time before reaching that point, though.

Positioning himself in front of her, he flicked a finger against the satin ribbon nestled in the valley between Jane’s breasts, the only tie connecting the two minuscule cups. “Remove this.”

The deep breath she sucked in strained the fabric to the breaking point, but that was her only hesitation. He watched, silent, as Jane reached behind her for the clasp of the bra. An arm in front of her held the cups in place as she slowly slid first one, then the other strap down her arms. Teasing him. Complying but still making him wait. Still trying to retain control. She’d learn better.

Her arm finally lowered, taking the flimsy lace construction with it. V. traced the creamy mounds with his gaze, then his fingers. Her breasts were perfect. Smooth skin cupped just the right amount of fullness to barely overflow his palms. Large pinkish-brown nipples poked painfully into the air, shouting her arousal. He slid down to one straining tip, grasped it between thumb and forefinger, and pinched, carefully increasing the pressure until the skin around Jane’s eyes tightened and a whimper escaped; then he increased a little more.

“Disobedience means punishment, Jane.”

“I didn’t—”

He added the slightest twist. Jane gasped, stepped back, but his relentless grip brought her up short. “Yes, you did,” he said, then released her.

Jane cried out as the blood flooded back into her nipple, a flash of searing pain in such a tender spot. He knew exactly how it felt.

“Tell me why I punished you.”

“I…” She swallowed, the sound loud between them. “I made you wait.”

He fingered the opposite nipple, ignoring her wary flinch. “There is no more control here, sub, except your safe word. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He leaned forward to place a soft brush of his lips across her mouth. A reward, the first truly intimate touch between them. A tug on the waistband of her panties accompanied his, “Now these.”

She didn’t hesitate this time, and she didn’t drop her eyes. She stared deep into his as she slid the fabric over her garter belt, her hips. The panties were around her ankles in seconds, but he couldn’t see them; all he could see was the flush creeping up Jane’s cheeks, the sudden dilating of her pupils. This time his kiss wasn’t a brush—it was as much of a demand as his words. He opened her lips and slid his tongue inside, tasting the sweetness of her mouth and the even sweeter tentative slide of her tongue against his. He swallowed her moan of pleasure before he stepped back.

The neatly trimmed triangle of hair at her core pleased him—she’d carefully prepared herself for him. He pointed toward her panties. “Give them to me.”

Jane bent to retrieve them. V. walked around her, his view changing from her full breasts dangling down to the full globes of her ass. The pink perfection of her slit was visible, the glistening wetness shining along it evidence of how turned on she truly was, nerves or not. She stood, offering in hand. He took the scrap of lace and brought it to his nose, inhaling the musky scent of sweat and sweet arousal as he moved to where he could meet her gaze. She dropped her pretty eyes, her blush fiery enough to see even in the dimmest room. He savored it as much as the scent of her panties.

Slipping the fabric into his pocket, he told her, “You smell good, sub.” He bent close to nuzzle her ear. “Very good.”

Jane shivered, and when he pulled back, relief and pleasure mingled in her eyes. The pleasure suited her, lighting up her features and relaxing the tension that had gripped her before.

That’s it, sub; let go.

“Come with me.” Without waiting for her to respond, he turned to lead her deeper into the suite. In the bedroom, a large area next to the windows was occupied by a single chair, the kind that normally sat around a dining table. Tonight the lowly piece of furniture took center stage before the thick drape of curtains protecting them from prying eyes. The risk of playing where they might be seen was something he might experiment with another time, but tonight was for easing Jane into the lifestyle, not throwing her into the deep end headfirst.

“Come and sit, sub.”

Jane moved into the room, her body gleaming in the low light. The dark garter belt and thigh-high stockings and halo of blonde hair gave her the look of a siren walking toward her victim, not the other way around. He prayed he had the strength to resist her heady call.

The closer she came to the chair, the more her brow furrowed, but she didn’t question him, just sat primly on the seat, legs closed, hands folded on her lap, chin tilted down to hide her gaze. It didn’t matter; her body language told him all he needed to know. He grinned, the sadistic edge of his dominance rising. His little sub was about to be very uncomfortable indeed.

He knelt before the chair. Jane frowned.

V. rubbed his thumb along the curve of her bottom lip. “What was that thought?”

“You shouldn’t kneel before me.”

He brought their mouths almost together, but not quite. “Why not?” he whispered against her skin. Jane’s eyes went vague, her body leaning into his, seeking his kiss. He allowed it, briefly, then dragged his lips along her jaw and down the sweet line of her throat. “I get the best view here.” The last word was said against her nipple. Jane jumped when he curled his tongue around it. V. indulged himself, sucking the taut flesh into his mouth, feeling her shiver and strain toward him. Tingles shot down his spine.

When he retreated, letting his teeth slide along the sensitive peak, a whimper escaped despite Jane’s closed-tight lips.

“I do what I want, Jane, and so do you. Not what you think I should do, not what some idealized Dominant might do. What I want to do. And right now I want you to open your legs.”

Skin whispered against cloth as Jane parted her thighs. When she paused, he gripped her knees and pushed, lining her legs up with the legs of the chair. A warm wash of aroused woman hit his nose despite Jane’s distinct squeak. He hid his grin by reaching for the first of the straps he’d arranged nearby.

One for each ankle, tied to the front chair legs. Straps at the front seat corners captured Jane’s knees, guaranteeing she couldn’t attempt to close her legs. Because of her shorter height and the depth of the chair, the position forced her away from the seat back. She sat upright, completely rigid, prim and proper, clasped hands blocking his view of her most intimate places.

Not for long.

V. placed his palm flat against her sternum and pushed. “Back.”

The barest hint of resistant tightened her muscles before Jane gave in and tilted back. The position rolled her pelvis under, and with her legs forced open, every inch of her wet, beautiful pussy was bared to him.

“Mmm, perfect.”

He stood to fasten a tie around each upper arm. With the final strap, Jane’s breath became a pant. She tensed against the restraints, testing her ability to move. Fear and arousal warred in her eyes. V. tilted her chin up until the back of her head settled against the padded chair back and even her expression couldn’t be hidden.

Jane swallowed hard. The rough pattern of her breathing saturated the air.

“Shh,” he murmured, rubbing her bottom lip with his thumb. “Easy.”

“I don’t— I don’t know—”

“Don’t know what, sub?”

She tugged her head to one side, trying to hide.

“No, don’t look away. Answer me.” He pushed his fingers through her hair, first on one side, then the other, forcing her head back to the front. The fact that she kept her eyes open deserved a reward, but first he wanted her words. “What is it?” he asked, voice a low croon.

“I—” She closed her eyes, swallowed, then opened them again. “I don’t know if I can do this, not with a stranger.”

He massaged her neck, continuing to hold her facing him. “Have sex?”

The slightest shake denied his question. After a moment she managed, “Be this…bare.”

If the sex wasn’t the problem, then he didn’t think she meant physically bare. Sometimes that was the easy part. “Because you have to surrender?”

“Because…you can see…everything.” Jane squirmed in his hold. “Because I’m not touching you and there’s nothing to distract you from watching me while you…”

All the things vanilla sex provided easily. In D/s play, if done right, there was nowhere to hide. “That’s the beauty of it, Jane. Total submission.”

“But—”

He silenced her with a look. “No, sub. You can take whatever I give out. Know how I know that?” he asked.

She couldn’t shake her head, though she tried. “No.”

“Because of this.” He dropped a hand to her splayed legs and ran a finger through the slick evidence of just how much she was enjoying what he did to her. He held it up for her to see. “You can take it, everything I give you. Even when it feels like too much, you’ll love every minute.”

Chapter Seven

She wondered for a moment if they were still talking about emotions. She’d felt his erection earlier, so she knew that statement could apply either way. Asking was out of the question, though. There was already more innuendo floating through the air than she could ever comprehend when her head was clear, much less now.

Really the question she needed to ask wasn’t for him; it was for herself. Would she submit, or would she keep holding back? She’d read enough to know beating the resistance out of her was an option if she allowed it, but she didn’t want to force this. She wanted to give in. If only she could tell what he wanted. Being this needy all alone was terrifying, like waiting on the edge of a cliff to see if the fall would hurt or a parachute would miraculously appear.

“Can—” She bit down hard on her lip, forcing back the question. One didn’t question the Dom.

But apparently this wasn’t a normal Dom. “Ask,” he commanded.

“Can you…remove the mask?”

He sat back. Jane felt tears burn her eyes. She was blowing it; she knew it.

“Why?”

She rolled his tone around in her mind. No anger. She dared to answer. “I need to see you, see your reaction. I need…”

He cupped her cheek, his touch gentle, understanding. “You need to know you’re not alone in this.”

She nodded. If that made her a bad sub, then maybe she wasn’t as submissive as she’d thought. She’d never survive deprivation or humiliation play with her soul intact. She needed the reassurance of his reactions.

He nudged his hips against her inner thigh. “Does this not tell you all you need to know?”

He was hard. He’d been hard earlier too, in the other room watching her undress. Was it enough?

No, because she couldn’t see it at will; she could only feel it when he allowed her to. Rather than voice the thought, she shook her head.

He continued to hold her cheek, his thumb stroking the soft spot just below the corner of her mouth. His indecision was evident in the hesitation at the beginning of each stroke. He was close enough she could see the glitter of his eyes, the conflict. The resolve when it came.

He stood. Jane braced herself for everything to stop, for him to leave, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead he slowly stripped off his shirt.

What lay underneath took her breath away. A line of crisp, new-looking tattoos marched from midneck down one side of a thick, muscular chest. Silver piercings glittered in each dark nipple. He was…beautiful. And when one hand went to his groin and cupped the erection evident there, it was beautiful too.

“Bodies don’t lie,” he said, stroking himself casually. “If you have any doubts about whether I am enjoying this, sub, all you have to do is look.”

Considering how tight his jeans were, that was certainly true. Her mouth watered at the sight.

“Will this work?” he asked.

She hesitated, not because it wouldn’t but because she wanted so much more. She wanted to see the face that went with that magnificent body—and the firm will dominating her.

“Honesty, sub. You don’t want me to punish you.”

An image flashed behind her eyes—her Dom spanking her, his hand on her bare bottom.

A laugh, low and satisfied, escaped him. “What was that thought?”

“I…” She cleared her throat, resisting the urge to squirm on the seat cushion. “I…don’t think punishment is quite the threat you think it is.”

Did you really admit that out loud?

His laugh grew louder. “Agreed. Although”—he leaned in until his smiling lips brushed her ear—“I can make it work either way. That’s what a good Dom does.”

She resisted the urge to tilt her head, gain more of his touch. “How?”

“Think about it, Jane. What would be worse than pain?”

She couldn’t think with his husky voice so close. Her eyelids closed as she waited, savoring his nearness.

“How about pleasure?” he asked.

“Pleasure can’t be more punishment than pain.”

“Are you sure?” Wet heat traced the rim of her ear, then enveloped her earlobe. He sucked lightly before releasing her. Jane shivered. “What about pleasure that doesn’t come to a pinnacle? Have you ever been held at the edge, sub, taken only so far and no farther, with no hope of release?”

She shook her head. A whimper escaped despite her effort to hold it back.

“Maybe I’ll show you.” With a final lick, he eased back. One hand cupped her breast. Jane hissed at his touch. It was too much and not enough all at once. “Right now.”

He took her nipple between his fingers and rolled it. Jane’s head, too heavy for her to hold up, fell back, and her eyes closed in bliss. She loved having her nipples played with, always wished she could get more of just that during sex. Her Dom seemed to enjoy her breasts as much as she enjoyed having him pay attention to them. When he squeezed both nipples at once, she couldn’t stop the arching of her back, the whine of need that escaped.

And then he was gone.

She wanted him back, wanted her neglected nipples between his talented fingers again, but when she opened her eyes, all she saw was his naked back as he walked across the room. The thick lines of muscle along his spine rippled as he moved, bent, a beautiful tiger prowling his kingdom. He retrieved something from a black bag in the corner. When he turned back to her, she saw that it was a small, soft-looking object with black straps. Only when he moved closer did her brain register what it was: a vibrator, the kind that would sit against her clit.

Her body clamped down as she imagined it strapped to her.

Her Dom’s smile was wicked as he came back into the light. “Ready?”

Her response was more squeak than assent. His grin widened.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Kneeling before her again, he eased the straps under her thighs, looping them around and fastening them tight enough that she couldn’t escape the pillowed bullet they forced against her slit. In fact, shifting only rolled her hips up more, compressing the fleshy part of the device and pushing the vibrator tighter against her clit. The sensation brought a groan to her lips—and it wasn’t even turned on yet.

“Good girl,” her Dom said.

She heard a click, and the bullet started a gentle humming at her core. Her eyes flew open.

Her Dom was holding a remote. “Handy, huh?”

She groaned again.

“Now,” he said, standing up, “the point is not to orgasm, Jane. Don’t chase it. If you do…well”—he smoothed a hand along one sensitive inner thigh—“I can’t reach your ass, but that doesn’t mean I can’t punish you.”

And that wouldn’t make it easier, she was sure. If a slap to her butt turned her on, she imagined one to her thigh might do even more. The sudden instinct to lift toward his hand, to open herself to the harsh sting, confirmed her fears.

Lost in the erotic images filling her mind, Jane didn’t realize her Dom was delving in his pocket until the jangle of a chain drew her back. Silver flashed in the light. The pincher-like devices at each end grabbed her attention.

Nipple clamps.

Without thought, she pushed her breasts toward him. The edge of the bullet scraped along her clit. A pre-orgasmic spasm rippled through her.

“No no no no…” The words were rhythmic, breathless—hers. God. They’d just started and she was losing it. “Please.”

His bare skin brushed her tight nipples when he leaned close. His mouth opened on hers, his tongue demanding entrance. Wet heat consumed her, the faint taste of mint and something all him overwhelming her senses. Only a sharp pinch on her nipple dragged her away.

She glanced down. His fingers hovered over a clothespin gripping her hard nipple. She watched as a fingertip settled on the protruding tip, pressed, circled. Pleasure exploded in her breast. “God, yes!”

The sensation disappeared, leaving behind a throbbing ache that did nothing to lessen her need.

“Again, sub.”

The warning came right before a distinct pinch at her opposite breast. In the back of her mind, she wondered why he hadn’t prepared her like she’d read was necessary, but then, with the vibrator and his mouth consuming her, she had the feeling her nipples had been plenty hard without any further preparation on his part. And then he rubbed the clamped tip again and everything but that glorious pleasure-pain ran screaming from her mind.

Her body clenched down hard. Panic had her searching for her Dom’s eyes.

“Please,” she panted up at him. Her hips rolled without her permission, stroking the bullet against her clit. “Please, help me.”

One big hand settled on her lower belly, pressing back, forcing her clit away from where it wanted to be. Bringing her down from the high. “Breathe, sub,” he demanded.

“I c-can’t.” She strained against his hold, needing release, needing permission. “Please.”

He only pressed harder. Her stomach clenched beneath his hand. “Breathe.”

“I—” She shook her head.

He kissed away the rest of her excuses. When her lips relaxed, opened to his invasion, he pulled back just enough to speak. “I wouldn’t ask something of you that I know is impossible, Jane. You can do this. Let me show you how high you can go.” Another kiss, this one light as air. “Now breathe.”

She did. She dragged in a mouthful of air, still tasting him on her tongue, still clinging to his gaze. Then she did it again. And again. The approving light in his eyes guided her, challenged her, until finally her body relaxed and she could breathe normally once more. His crooning “such a good sub” was all the reward she needed, but she wanted more, so much more. The sudden tingle of tears at the back of her throat surprised her. The “please” that escaped this time had nothing to do with orgasm, or even physical need.

“Please what?” he asked.

“Please…” But what she wanted, she couldn’t express. It wasn’t in the cards. “Please…again.”

He grinned. When he leaned back, she looked down his body. His nipples, so beautifully decorated, stood hard and proud from his chest, and farther down, the outline of his cock shoved demandingly against his tight jeans. He wanted this too. She closed her eyes in relief and let go of her last worries.

A hot, wet tongue swiped across her distended nipples, first one, then the other. Each touch brought a throb to the clamped tips, a zap of pleasure to her core. He surrounded one areole, clamp and nipple and all, and sucked her, his rhythm matching the steady pulse of the vibrator against her body. She stared at the ceiling, breathing in and out, just feeling the desire in his lips, his tongue against her aching nipple, the sudden crowding of his body when she arched toward him. He covered her, with his mouth, with his naked chest, with his heavy thighs inside her own. All awareness of time and urgency melted away and she was lost in him, just like she’d dreamed she would be. Just like she’d always imagined.

Until the kick of the bullet picked up. Until his palm covered her mound and forced it closer, harder against her. Until he leaned back with a final lick and looked into her eyes. “Here we go, Jane. Let it come.”

And then he removed a clamp.

White-hot pain shot through her breast. Her Dom ground the vibrator against her clit, and Jane’s orgasm detonated in her core, in her belly, in her frantic wail. She didn’t feel the second clamp’s release, didn’t know when he took her in his mouth and soothed the pain. All she knew was the waves of climax consuming her. When she came to however long later, it was to the limp rag-doll feel of her muscles and the gentle suction of her Dom nursing at her abused breast.

“There she is,” he said into her skin as she stirred. Jane locked on to the words, to his gaze when he raised his head. Was he pleased? That was her first thought, and how messed up was that? But she wanted him to be pleased, and the satisfaction she could see in his eyes despite the mask assured her he was. She grinned at him.

“Pretty happy with that, are you?” he teased.

She had to clear her throat before she could get words out. “Yes, Sir.”

He gave her a once-over, then nodded. “Good.”

He stood to release the straps around her arms, and she couldn’t avoid the evidence of his continued arousal right in front of her. “Sir?”

He smoothed her biceps before moving to the opposite arm. “Yes?”

“What about you?”

She didn’t miss the hesitation at her question, the slightest hitch in his fingers before the strap released and he massaged the muscle beneath.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her, kneeling to release her leg.

Not the answer she wanted, nor the one she’d expected. Her fogged brain couldn’t work out a response, though, so she merely watched while he finished releasing her and then undid the vibrator from around her thighs.

Grasping her hands, he eased her to her feet. “To the bathroom with you.”

She glanced up, confused. Her Dom had a small smile on his face, but the strain around the edges was evident. “Sir?”

He turned her toward the restroom. “Off with you. Drink some water, pee, and then come straight back here.”

This must be aftercare, but it wasn’t what she’d expected. “And then?”

His hands, rough and warm, smoothed down her arms, over her garters, to grip her butt cheeks. “And then you get your reward, sub. And I get mine.”

Chapter Eight

He’d never had a woman react so beautifully, so easily to his touch. When her senses had finally been overwhelmed, she’d let go of that performance mentality and slipped into sub mode, giving him the submission he desired from her, the submission he knew she both wanted and needed.

And now he wanted to do it all over again.

Sending her to clean up alone wasn’t his usual style, but it had been necessary. If he’d gone with her, cuddled and coddled her¸ cleaned that drenched pussy for her, he wouldn’t have left that room until she was pinned on his cock and he’d driven them both past madness and into oblivion. His body had throbbed angrily at his denial for the past half hour, and at this point his balls were so blue he felt bowlegged. He hurt, and damn it, good aftercare or not, he couldn’t risk going with her into the bathroom. He needed to breathe, and only being away from her made that possible.

His pain had eased marginally when Jane returned, but his balls could go fuck themselves if their denial earned the tired peace glowing on her face. Anticipation kicked up as she moved shyly toward him. She still wore her garter belt, the silky hose silhouetting the curves of her legs, black heels giving her a bit of height and sway as she crossed the room. Kennedy had told him years ago that Jane had nicknamed herself Plain Jane, but there was nothing plain about this woman, whether she knew it or not. Even in the aftermath of climax, half-dressed and with all artifice stripped away, she was a siren.

And that ass was calling him—quite possibly to his destruction.

He held out a hand. “Come.”

She didn’t hesitate. Taking his hand, she followed him to the king-size bed that dominated the wall opposite the room’s windows. He sat on the edge, feet planted, and patted his thighs. “Down.”

A frown wrinkled her brow. “How?”

He grasped the elbow closest to him and tugged. “Lie down over my lap.”

The sudden flush of her cheeks told him she’d figured out what was coming. And just like he’d anticipated, she wanted it. So did he. Her bare ass under his palm, her body at his mercy, her pleasure and pain his to give? Nothing could be more perfect. If he couldn’t have her on his cock, he damn well would have her on his lap.

She wasn’t as graceful at this as she was at kneeling, but that made her even more beautiful. She couldn’t practice this, had never given it to another man. This was his and his alone. The bend of her hips centered over one leg, and her upper body draped over the other. He adjusted her until her ass was in the air, the thin stripes of her garters cutting into the round cheeks, as round and perfect as her breasts, which were now molded against the outside of his opposite thigh. Soft. Warm. Giving. He settled a hand behind one knee and smoothed it up her leg, savoring the texture of silk, lace, skin, and soft flesh.

Jane pushed up into his touch. He rewarded her by gripping a handful of ass.

“This will hurt, sub.”

“I know, Sir.” Her response was breathy, back to that fear-exhilaration mix. He wanted to reach down, grasp a dangling breast, and play with the nipple, but he knew her tender tips needed a break. For now. He’d please himself with her breasts later.

If there is a later. This night won’t last forever.

He shut down the thought and unclipped Jane’s garters one at a time. Her creamy skin warmed beneath the circles he rubbed into it, turning pink under his ministrations. Jane was moaning beneath him, a position far too close to simulating sex for his peace of mind, but he forced himself to focus on her and not his angry cock.

Small taps starting at the top of her stockings, traveling up over one cheek and down the other side. Over and over he circled, gradually increasing the intensity. Jane’s moans turned to groans, but she didn’t kick, didn’t protest. When he thought she was sufficiently warmed up, he paused for a kiss to one hot mound.

“Ready, sub?”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

Slap.

The impact rippled over her flesh, the jiggle making his mouth water. Jane startled, then melted back down over his thigh.

Slap.

Slap.

He set up a steady rhythm, light enough that he could take his time, hard enough to make Jane feel the burn. Every few strikes, he stopped to rub a couple of fingers over her exposed slit. She was wet, and the harder he struck, the wetter she got. When his fingertips fell just over the center of her thighs, catching those vulnerable folds with a light tap, she bent hard at the waist, begging with her body for more, harder. It wasn’t long before she cried out with words too, and he was breathing heavy and landing a firm pat on her pussy just to hear her breathy grunts and pleas.

Every impact drove Jane’s hip against his straining cock. Suddenly V. realized he was adding a push after every slap, driving her harder against him, pleasuring himself as he pleasured her. He shouldn’t, he knew, but he couldn’t stop. He ached to be inside her, ached to satiate himself in the hot, wet, tight confines of her body, but he’d promised himself he wouldn’t.

And coming all over yourself is a better way to show how in control you are, right?

He groaned at the thought—and at the tingling that centered at the base of his spine. Fuck, he needed release—but not like this. Not like this.

He allowed himself one last slap, except he didn’t pull this one. No, he landed it right on Jane’s exposed core. She bowed her back up against his restraining hand. The shriek she let out was high and surprised—not a cry of pain, but of climax. He pushed two fingers between her labia and relished the moisture coating her sex, how her body clenched around his fingertips. Jane bent harder, straining back, trying to further the penetration. No restraint, no control, just mindless need. Exactly where he wanted her.

When he flipped her over and settled her on the bed, her arms fell limp at her sides, her legs splayed. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, trembling on every harsh exhale. So beautiful. He indulged himself, taking her bottom lip between his teeth, letting her breath bathe him in sweet heat, letting her come back to him in her own time.

When her eyes opened, he stopped waiting. He settled his mouth on hers.

Slid his tongue inside.

When Jane sucked gently, a babe comforting herself with his body, the orgasm crouching at the back of his mind surged forward. Only a hard hand clamped around the base of his cock held it back. His balls throbbed like a son of a bitch, his eyes watering at the pain.

V. broke the kiss, trying to breathe, trying to maintain control. He rocked back on his heels—and found himself hovering over Jane’s breasts. The nipples had gone soft with her orgasm, but as his breath hit one, it stiffened. He licked it, and it stretched taut, begging him for more. He sucked it into his mouth, and Jane bucked beneath him, her hands gripping his head and dragging him closer. He let go.

“Hands down, sub. Lay them beside your ears.”

Jane hesitated. He knew she was trying to process, trying to bring her brain back online, but when she took too long, he nipped the bud with his teeth. Her hands fell limply to the bed.

He grunted his approval and sucked the turgid nipple back into his mouth. Plastering the stiff point to the roof of his mouth, he drew hard, and the sound of Jane’s mewling cry, like a needy kitten, drove his own desire higher. He couldn’t take her deep enough, get enough of the feel of her creamy skin against his face, the pebbly texture of her areole on his tongue. He drank her in like a starving man, and when it was a choice between breathing and keeping hold of her, he held on until his lungs screamed for mercy.

As he turned his head to draw air, the scruff of his beard brushed Jane’s wet nipple.

“Please,” she whined, but her hands stayed beside her head, now gripping fistfuls of sheet. He rewarded her with the scrub of his beard over her sensitive tip, once, twice, again. And then he switched sides to start all over.

“God, I can’t wait to clamp these again,” he whispered roughly when he finally released her. He stared, savoring the evidence of his dominance, his control over his beautiful sub. Her nipples were bright red, stabbing the air, as strong a cue to the overwhelming level of her desire as the restless way her legs were shifting beneath him. And yet her hands still gripped the bed, her knuckles white with strain.

“Please,” she begged him, eyes shut tight against her own need. “Please, Sir, take me. I can’t do this much longer. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Everything inside him went still. When Jane stirred again, lifting her hips toward him, he brought a hand down to cover her mound. “You don’t have to do that, Jane.”

Her eyes opened. Tears shimmered as she shook her head, spilling her curls out over the bloodred sheet like diamonds. “Do what?”

“Give yourself to me.” He turned his hand and hooked two fingers down, pressing her closed lips over her clit. “I know this is an experiment for you. You don’t have to let me penetrate you for both of us to be pleasured.”

“But…” She froze beneath him. “You mean…”

He waited, searching her eyes in the shadows, but when she didn’t continue, he asked, “What? Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Her thighs clenched around his hand, squeezing until his bones ground together. Jane turned her head to the side, classic avoidance, insecurity. It took another minute for her to speak. “You…don’t want me?”

More than you will ever fucking know, sweetheart. But words weren’t going to convince her. Instead he stood up. Using the hand between her legs for leverage, he pried her limbs apart. Jane fought, a single sharp jerk away, but quieted when he laid a rough slap on her inner thigh. V. pushed his hips into the space he’d created.

“We already established that I want you, sub.” He ground his erection against her. The damp heat of her desire soaked through his jeans easily. “This isn’t about what I want. It’s about what you’re willing to do without knowing who I am. So I’ll ask one last time before I lose my ever-loving mind—are you sure?”

Jane turned her head to stare into his eyes, stark need laid bare. Spreading her arms and legs wide open, willingly this time, she whispered, “I’m absolutely sure, Sir.”

His muttered “hallelujah” was lost in the rustle of sheets and creaking of the bed as he scrambled away. He retrieved a condom from his wallet on the bedside table, unzipped and sheathed himself, and hurried back to Jane’s willing, luscious body.

Cupping her ass in his hands, he commanded, “Look at me, Jane. Don’t stop looking.” He needed her eyes on him. He might fucking explode at the intimacy of it, but he needed it nonetheless.

And he was right. The minute those searing eyes focused on him, he felt cum surging up his shaft. Breathing deep, he forced a tight rein over himself, notched the head of his cock into the moist center of her body, and pushed his way in until he couldn’t cram another millimeter into her sweet depths.

Jane’s eyes went wide, then soft. When he gave a single nudge on the off chance he could fit more, she grunted quietly. A wash of wet heat inside her had his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Sir.”

Opening his eyes, V. moved so that his hands were planted on either side of her shoulders. “Yes, sub.”

The final word was more growl than distinguishable letters as Jane clamped down on his cock. “May I…”

He waited, panting. Sweat rolled down his spine.

Jane licked her lips. “I want to touch you.”

“I’d love nothing more than your hands on me.”

Her fingers were as unsteady as his heartbeat as she reached for him, but they both went still when her palms met his bare skin.

Her touch was magic, a sweet seduction urging him closer, to get more of her hands on his body. But moving closer slid his hips up, and his cock moved deeper. Jane’s eyes rounded even more, her knees rose, and V.’s balls drew up tight as her body rippled around him.

“Hold on. Not yet,” he warned her. He wasn’t ready for her to come, and he sure as hell didn’t want to come himself and have this all over with mere minutes after he finally got inside her.

“I—”

He pulled back, the ridge of his cock scraping along her internal walls. Jane’s nails dug into his pecs.

“Sir, I can’t wait.”

“Yes, you can,” he growled. Jane’s shiver shook her breasts, the tips dancing in a way that sucked every molecule of moisture from his mouth. He took one between his teeth and nibbled.

“No, I can’t!”

Her shriek told him exactly how close to falling over the edge she was. He gave the nipple a reluctant lick and sat up onto his knees, pulling Jane’s hips forward to meet him. The position took the pressure off her clit and moved her breasts out of his reach—but not out of his sight.

“All right, sub, here we go.” He set a harsh rhythm, needing to soak himself in the feeling of her surrounding him, needing to lose himself, drown himself in her. He had no idea what the future held, whether Jane would want him when they went back to LA and reality, whether she’d even want him when the sun rose. At this moment he didn’t care. All he knew was he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to own every inch of her.

“Cup your breasts, sub. Present them to me.”

She did as he asked. The sight of her, body stretched out before him, breasts displayed in those delicate hands, all to please him, shot his need even higher. He’d never been this hot, this hard in his life. Only his clenched teeth and a will of iron held back his release, a litany of not yet, not yet, not yet ringing in his head to the rhythm of his thrusts. Jane’s soft cries of need and desperation played a sweet accompaniment that drove him a little bit closer to madness with every passing second.

He gripped the tops of her silken thighs and pulled, fucking himself with her body, angling his hips down so he hit her clit. Jane howled like he’d zapped her with a live wire—which he probably had. Lord knew his cock felt the same.

“That’s it. That’s it,” he told her. And thrust again. “Come for me, Jane.” Thrust. Thrust. “Come for me now; let go”—thrust—“and come”—thrust—“now, Jane.”

He ground down against her clit, circled his cock deep inside, and Jane went off like a rocket on the Fourth of July. The first strong seizure clamped down on his shaft, squeezing the pleasure and the cum out of him whether he wanted it to or not. His shout mingled with hers, filling his ears and overwhelming his senses until minutes later, when he came to, finding himself curled around Jane’s body beneath him, his face tucked into her neck, the racing of her pulse playing out against his tingling lips.

He didn’t want to get up. Not to take care of the condom, not to give Jane some breathing room. Not for anything. He wanted to stay here forever, cradled by her body, sustained by her heartbeat and the knowledge that this woman, no matter what had happened in their past, was meant to be his. He loved her. He needed her. He sure as hell wanted her—forever.

But forever would be some other Dom’s privilege, wouldn’t it?

As if in answer to his question, Jane stirred. Her fingernails dug into his biceps, pulling him closer, molding every inch of her even tighter to his body, reminding him of how perfectly they fit together. And how much it didn’t matter. Because he had to tell her the truth. He had no choice now, not after what he’d done.

And when the mask came off, when she realized who he was, he might just lose her forever.

Chapter Nine

The hot water stung as it pelted her skin, seeking out all those places where her Dom had left his mark behind. And not just on her too-tender rear. She’d known he was built big, standing well over her five-foot-three frame, but the reality of all that muscle and bone pounding against her, losing control, was something else again. Not to mention the girth of his… Her cheeks burned hotter than the spraying water. To say she wasn’t used to that kind of endowment was an understatement. She felt hollowed out, empty in a way she’d never experienced after sex. It was at once delicious and had her craving more with a ferocity that surprised her.

Which was why she hurried. Much as she’d like to soak her aching muscles, to give in to the lethargy her climax—or climaxes—had spread through her body, she wanted her Dom more. She didn’t want to waste even a second.

She didn’t know how many more she might have.

A fluffy white towel wicked up every drop decorating her skin. Jane wrapped one around her body and secured the end with a tuck before running her fingers through her wet, tangled hair. A quick glance in the steam-obscured mirror and she was headed for the bedroom.

Her Dom stood at the window, the curtain drawn back to reveal the brilliance of Las Vegas at night. The tattoo on his neck just peeked around the edge, but otherwise his back was bare. Breathtaking. She wanted to run her fingers down the thick lines of muscle, press her palm to the hollow at the base of his spine. Were they still playing? Did she need to ask permission, or could she indulge herself without fear?

He didn’t turn as she approached. Her heart thumped in her throat, threatening to cut off her air, but she swallowed it down and settled a hand in the shallow indent just below his corded neck. So warm, almost hot. She remembered that in the frenzy of his lovemaking, how his skin had scorched her from the inside out. The memory shivered along her nerves as she ran her hand slowly down his spine. Was it her imagination or did he press back just a bit, seeking out her touch?

“Jane.”

She went still, her mouth suddenly dry. “Yes, Sir?”

“We need to talk.”

Not good. Not good, not good, not good. Tears prickled the backs of her eyes. “Okay.”

Without waiting she turned away from him. The instant contact ended, her body cried out, craving his touch all over again. She ran her fingers beneath her eyes as she moved into the living room, quick and furtive, praying he couldn’t see in the dim light. By the time she settled on the edge of the couch, her eyes were dry and her hands were still, one open and relaxed on her lap, one holding her towel secure.

If this was good-bye, she’d meet it with dignity. Not a pity fuck, remember?

He didn’t look her way. The curtains in this room were still closed. When he reached for the swath of fabric blocking out the night, she couldn’t hold back a small murmur of protest. Bad enough that he would see her reaction to whatever he had to say; she couldn’t bear the exposure of open curtains. It didn’t matter that no one could see inside, this many floors up. She needed the privacy.

As if sensing her reaction, her Dom turned away from the curtains without opening them. She couldn’t read his face with that damn mask, without more light, but she could read the stiffness of his body as he turned back to her, and it made her cringe. Her gaze dropped to her lap without permission. The silence in the room expanded until she thought she would never breathe again.

“Jane, I never intended… I hadn’t planned to…”

Yeah, cringing. Of course he hadn’t meant to make love to her. She’d begged him to, hadn’t she?

The sound of footsteps on carpet signaled his approach. She raised a hand to hold him off. “No, it’s okay. It’s not…I don’t expect anything. Really.”

“No, it’s not okay,” he said. Anger rumbled through the words; she just couldn’t figure out why. “It’s not okay because I never intended to take you, not without you knowing who I am. But I—”

God, she was going to cry. She didn’t want to cry; this was humiliating enough. Scraping together a tiny smile, she forced herself to meet his eyes. “It’s okay. I understand.” She stood, hand still gripped tight around the knotted towel above her chest. “I’ll gather my things and go.”

“The hell you will,” he growled. Jane startled as he charged toward her. His grip on her arms tore her hand away, taking the towel with it.

And now she was naked. A hot flood of embarrassment swept her body. Can this get any worse?

“I’m not saying I want you to leave. I’m not saying I regret fucking you, for Christ’s sake!”

She flinched at the word fuck but didn’t go anywhere. His grip wouldn’t allow it. “Then what are you saying?”

He closed his eyes, and she could’ve sworn he was praying for patience. She was praying for clothes. She doubted either one of their prayers would be answered anytime soon.

And then his gaze was branding her once again. “I’m saying I wanted to fuck you. I want to do it again, over and over and over again until neither one of us can walk and we can’t even think about leaving this room. But I can’t, not until I tell you the truth.”

“The truth?”

He let go of her then, only one arm. She watched, morbidly fascinated, as he reached for the mask that had hidden him from her all night. Watched as his fingers hooked in the edge and slowly lifted. Watched as familiar eyes, familiar hair, an oh-so-familiar face was revealed.

“Vincent?” Kennedy’s brother. Rock star. Girlhood crush. The man she’d wanted since the first time they’d met.

It took a moment for everything to click, for each and every touch, look, word they’d shared in the past few hours to reconnect with the reality of the man who’d done them. A man she knew. A man she’d shared the most humiliating experience of her life with, and yet had never been able to forget. She’d suspected all these years that she loved him, but now, staring into those green, green eyes, she knew for certain.

She loved him…and the knowledge brought with it more pain than it was humanly possible to bear.

Suddenly she wasn’t just naked before him—she was defenseless, raw and exposed, as if he’d stripped her emotions and not just her body. Every square inch of her felt scalded with shame. The humiliation of her teenage self, so naive and needy, and the realization that the person she’d trusted with her most intimate secrets had lied about wanting her, was lying even now, mixed to form an explosive combination that detonated beneath her skin. And he saw all of it. He knew her now, inside and out, and there was nowhere to hide.

Her hands tightened into fists at the realization, and then her stunned mind rolled into action and she was fighting his grip, fighting to free herself from him, from the pain rolling through her. She didn’t even realize she was speaking until her voice cracked with the strain. “Let me go! Let me go, V.!”

Pain shot through her arms as his grip tightened to the breaking point. She would never be free, never escape the scouring of her soul, and that made her fight all the harder. And then his voice, deep and commanding, hit her like a brick.

“Be still, sub.”

That word on V.’s lips— Jane’s body stilled at his demand. She stood, trembling, and it wasn’t entirely from hurt; it was the need to hide how much she wanted to melt into a puddle at the mere idea of Vincent O’Connell claiming her as his submissive.

She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t meet his eyes. But she could hear him breathe, smell his unique scent, and it burned like salt in her wounds. She clamped her eyes shut.

V. released one arm. His fingers brushed her cheek. It was wet.

She turned her head away.

Vincent stepped into her body, and somehow it felt like he covered her nakedness. As if he was the shield protecting her from everything around her, even inside her. She couldn’t let herself fall into that trap, but when she stepped back, he simply followed.

“Jane—”

“Please let me go.”

His fingers hooked under her chin, forcing it up, forcing her to face him. But she wouldn’t give him her eyes.

His voice dropped an octave. “Look at me, sub.”

That got her attention. “I’m not your sub,” she bit out. “Now let go.” But her eyes had already met his, and she couldn’t look away.

God, they were so green. Why did he have to be so beautiful? If he wasn’t, if he’d been someone else, anyone else, she could’ve forgotten him years ago.

Maybe.

She wasn’t sure what V. saw in her eyes. Even without the mask, he wasn’t easy to read, never had been. But she didn’t think he was angry. She also didn’t think he would be complying with her request.

V. studied her for a long moment, then said, “You know that isn’t how this works, Jane. You have a safe word for a reason.”

Her jaw dropped open. Did he think they were still playing?

Did it matter? She opened her mouth, ignoring the squeeze of longing in her chest, the word weekend on the tip of her tongue.

V. got his words in first.

“And you know that if you use your safe word, everything stops. Everything.” He traced the line of her throat, settling a finger in the hollow of her collarbone. “Or you can talk with me reasonably and then decide.”

Every scrap of awareness in her centered on his touch at her throat. How gentle he was. How her breasts were not that far from his hand. She couldn’t think about anything else, and that was the problem. V.’s effect on her was electric, always had been, even when she was only watching him from afar. Maybe she should’ve known he was her Dom all along, because no one else had ever felt this way. She couldn’t disconnect it, and she couldn’t flip a switch and turn it off at the end of the weekend. She would never be able to detach herself, but V…?

“You don’t want me.”

His lips went tight, his eyes narrow. “Haven’t we already had this conversation?”

She barely refrained from snorting. “No.”

“Okay, Ms. Stubborn.” He nodded toward the bedroom. “Did that feel like I didn’t want you?”

A flush rose to her cheeks. “That’s just sex.”

“Damn good sex,” he muttered.

The flush got hotter.

“I’m not a machine,” he told her. “I can’t just turn it on and off, not that. Nothing has ever been like that. It was you, Jane, us, not just sex.”

“Not just a fuck?”

“No.”

He stared into her eyes, letting her see him, letting her delve deep. Or was he? He’d already fooled her once.

“You didn’t want me before.” When they were younger, she meant. He’d rejected her, but even worse, he hadn’t tried to see her again when she was older.

“I sure as hell did.” His hand cupped the side of her neck, covering her from spine to voice box. She wanted to lean into that touch, that heat. “We both know why I couldn’t say yes that first time. There was no other choice.”

“And…” She couldn’t force the word out.

“After?” he finished for her. She nodded.

V.’s grip tightened the slightest bit, then eased. “After, I didn’t want to risk what you and Kennedy had. I didn’t want to be just an exploration for you and have her be angry when it ended, or even worse, the other way around. I wasn’t about to ruin the best thing in both of your lives for a maybe.”

The words hurt—a maybe—but she couldn’t deny their validity. She’d been young, untried. He’d been building a career. Who knew what their relationship would’ve evolved into. But agreeing with him didn’t make the hurt go away.

She glanced down, and the realization that she was standing here naked hit her once more. She needed to dress. She needed to think, to… “I—”

For once, he didn’t push. He waited.

“I need to think about this.” When I’m not nude.

“You want to run away.”

“Yes,” she said. “But I’m not going to. I just…need space.”

He stared for long minutes more. Finally his hands left her skin. “You’ll go to Kennedy?”

She nodded as she turned away. Even across the room, she could feel his touch shackling her.

“Jane.”

She stopped at the door to the bedroom but didn’t look back.

“Don’t leave without seeing me again.”

An answer rose to her lips, but she bit it back. When she returned to the living room a few minutes later, it was empty.

Chapter Ten

The bite of scrambled eggs turned to rubber on Jane’s tongue. She forced them down with a swallow but refused to try again.

“Jane, talk to me.”

Balancing her fork on the edge of her plate, she met Kennedy’s earnest gaze head-on. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say anything, damn it.” Kennedy’s frustration bled through every word. “I know you’re angry. I know you’re struggling, but you don’t have to figure it out for yourself. That’s what I’m here for, to help you.”

“I’m not so sure I can handle more help, Kennedy.”

Her friend swore, the colorful string of words spicing the air. And then she went silent. Jane’s heart ached. She was the one who was hurt, but Kennedy was her best friend. And she’d meant well.

She’d meant well, but it still hurt like hell.

“The truth is, I don’t know whether to smack you or…” She trailed off, because that wasn’t all she didn’t know. The end of that sentence, for instance, escaped her, so Jane let it hang.

“Kiss me?” Kennedy’s cheeky grin flashed like the neon lights they looked down on from her balcony. Somehow the sight pried the crack inside Jane’s heart open even wider. She glanced away, pretending an absorption with the view that she didn’t truly feel.

Not that Kennedy was the least bit fooled. “Was what we did so bad, Jane? What I did?” Because, of course, she’d already explained how she’d had to drag V. into this. As if Jane needed to think about him being forced to have sex with her.

He wasn’t forced and you know it. You felt it, whether you want to admit it or not.

Kenn wasn’t listening in on Jane’s thoughts, though. “Did you really think I would ask a friend to sleep with you? I love you; you’re the only sister I’ve ever wanted. I’m not handing you over to someone I don’t know inside and out.”

And that’s what was eating Jane alive. “You knew what I did, what…” She closed her eyes as remembered shame washed over her. “You knew he rejected me before.”

“I did. I wasn’t stupid enough to think that was his final answer, though.” She took Jane’s hands, holding on tight when Jane tried to pull away. “Vinny’s protective of me—and you, silly. He wouldn’t risk hurting either one of us if he thought that was a possibility. He needed a push”—she squeezed down the slightest bit, waiting for Jane to meet her eyes—“and so did you.”

“I don’t think—”

“And there’s your problem,” Kennedy interrupted. “You need to stop thinking and start feeling. Was it good? For both of you?”

Kennedy had to know the answer to that. She already knew they’d gone all the way, so to speak. Still Jane blushed, hesitated. “Uh…yes, it was.” Three times yes.

“Well, there ya go.”

Jane stared into her friend’s eyes, wondering if it was really that easy. Could it be? Was she just manufacturing problems because she was afraid to take a chance? She thought back to those last moments on the bed, V.’s mouth twisted into a sensual grimace as he emptied himself inside her, the way he’d collapsed on top of her like she’d wrung him out to dry. The sweet feel of him over her, his face tucked into her neck. How right it had been. Even when they’d argued, he’d seemed to sense how uncomfortable she was, how exposed she felt. He’d stepped into her, covered her…protected her.

Classic Vincent. That was why she loved him.

She’d set out on this path to find her true self, find out what worked for her sexually but also who she really was as a person. Where she fit. She fit with V.; she knew it now. She could never have imagined exactly how well they fit.

Was it enough? Could she forget the past, forgive herself? There was nothing to forgive for V.—he’d done the right thing all those years ago. And she…well, eight years ago she’d taken a risk she hadn’t thought through at the time. This risk, now? Had she thought it through enough?

The last twenty-four hours flashed through her mind on fast-forward. She’d definitely thought it through.

“Kenn—”

A knock from inside the suite reached them through the open balcony doors. Jane’s muscles went rigid.

Kennedy speared her with a look. “Don’t move.”

“But—”

Her friend stood, leaning on her hands across the table. “You are not a mouse. A mouse couldn’t have come out here, taken her sexuality into her own hands, owned up to what she wanted, normal or not. Don’t act like one now.” She straightened and moved inside the suite, swinging back around the frame to wink at Jane. “Besides, Vinny doesn’t need a mouse. Give him hell.” Then she was gone, leaving Jane wondering what the heck she’d say when V. walked through that door and expected an answer.

She didn’t want to wait to find out. “Give him hell,” Kennedy had said. When Jane went from hurt to anger, that had been her plan. Now, though? She was finally ready to admit she didn’t want hell—she wanted heaven, and she’d found it in Vincent’s arms. If there was hell to endure, she’d do it so she could find her way back to that feeling of perfection she’d experienced with him.

No more fighting herself. No more fighting him.

She laid her crumpled napkin on her barely touched plate and stood from the table. Approaching the sliding glass doors, she could hear the hushed tones of brother and sister in the living room, tones that came to an abrupt halt when she stepped into the suite.

“Vincent.”

She forced herself to look at him, to not back down. Now that she understood where the instinct to lower her gaze came from, it didn’t seem weak, but neither did she want to submit in this moment. In the bedroom, fine, but here, now? Meeting him on equal footing was more important, at least until she saw where they stood.

“Jane.”

His face was tight. Angry? She glanced down his body. Fists squeezed together at his sides. Muscles rigid. But he was rocking forward on his feet as if he needed to move.

He’s holding himself back. At the realization, something tight and painful eased inside her chest. She walked closer, searching his eyes.

“Jane, do you want—”

“Sis,” V. interrupted.

Jane noticed Kennedy didn’t look at her brother, just held Jane’s stare. “Yeah?”

“Go away.”

One side of her friend’s mouth—the side V. couldn’t see—lifted in a smirk. “I’m not the sub here, Vinny.”

“But I’m the Dom,” he told her, a mix of demand and teasing lacing his words.

Kennedy squeezed Jane’s shoulder on her way back out to the balcony. “Then I’ll leave you to your sub.”

Silence settled between them once Kennedy left. Jane felt awkward, trapped in indecision, not because she didn’t know what she wanted, but because she wasn’t sure how to get it.

V. took the lead, as always. Not by coming toward her but by going to his knees. “Jane.”

She rushed forward, panic bubbling in her chest. “No no no, you can’t—”

He chuckled as he grabbed her waving hands out of the air. “I can do whatever I want. I’m the Dom, remember?”

His hands were warm, certain. Exactly what she needed. “I could never forget that.” It’s who I need you to be.

V. dug into the soft spots between her thumbs and forefingers, rubbing the tension away. “And what about the rest? The past. The deception. Can you forget that?”

She stared at their hands. “I think…”

But words failed her, that elusive answer that would lead them away from for now and toward forever.

V. tugged until Jane joined him on the floor. One hand cupped her cheek, and his thumb worked its magic on her jawline instead of her hand. “Tell me, Jane,” he said, his whisper urgent, almost needy. “I love you. Tell me what you need to believe me.”

Those three little words—I love you—took her breath away. She’d never believed she would hear them, not from his lips, but there they were. And just like that, she knew exactly what to do. Finding the courage to say it aloud, though?

She gripped his hand, borrowing the strength she needed from him. “I need to touch you—without the mask. I need to see…everything.” She needed to see the truth in his eyes, in his face, nothing hidden like it had been last night. No masks, for either of them.

V. held his hands out to his sides, opening himself without letting go of her. “I’m all yours.”

There was that panic, right back in her chest. “Uh…”

V. grabbed her, pulling her into him and taking her kiss like she needed him to. His desire burned through her, settling hot and bright in her lower belly. By the time he let go, she felt dazed.

“Kenn—” she called, mere inches from Vincent’s mouth.

Her friend was at the balcony door in an instant. “Yeah?”

“I think I’ll check in later.”

Kennedy didn’t spare Jane’s feelings; she laughed outright. Funny, but Jane didn’t really mind.

“Well,” Kenn said, “you know how to find me.”

“We do,” V. answered for them, his eyes hot and heavy on Jane.

“Later,” Jane echoed.

“Much,” he muttered against her lips. Kennedy’s laugh surrounded them as he kissed her again.

Chapter Eleven

V. hadn’t been sure she’d come with him. If there was one thing he knew about Jane, she wasn’t a pushover. Submissive, yes, but that wasn’t the same. She had a backbone. Thank God she hadn’t used it to deny him.

He held the door open for her to follow him into their suite. She’d been quiet on the walk over. Thinking. About him saying I love you? He’d meant it, had felt the certainty in his gut as the words left his mouth. No big explosions for him, just the slow morphing of sexual interest and caring into this all-encompassing need to have her in his life. He loved her. He knew it, and now so did she. She’d say it too, someday.

Today, if he had anything to say about it.

He’d been thinking too—about what was going to happen next, about being as bare to Jane as she’d been to him last night. A Dom wasn’t required to reveal as much, to be vulnerable in the way a sub was, to get what he wanted from D/s play. He was forced to control everything from his sub to his own body’s reactions; there wasn’t a lot of room left for baring his soul. Here, with Jane, that was exactly what he intended to do.

And speaking of…

He crossed the room as the door clicked shut. When he reached the curtains, he grabbed one side and yanked, filling the room with sunlight.

Jane’s gasp echoed behind him. “What—”

He repeated his actions on the other side before turning back to her. “You wanted to see everything, right?”

While Jane gaped, he stripped.

She didn’t look away; she watched, soaking in every detail of his body as it was revealed. She’d seen his chest last night, the piercings, his shoulders and back. From the waist down, it was all new, and the more he revealed, the more excited he got. From the way Jane shifted, pressed her hands into her belly, she was the same. By the time he got to his boxer briefs, his cock was aimed at her like an arrow. Jane’s pretty blush when he reached for the waistband made him feel ten feet tall.

The briefs were pushed down, his arousal a blatant demand from his body to hers. Jane licked her lips. Surely he’d explode any minute—but not without Jane along for the ride.

Completely naked, he crossed the room to where she stood, letting her look her fill just like he had last night. “May I?” he asked, gesturing toward her T-shirt. She was wearing some of Kennedy’s old clothes—he recognized the Hard Rock LA logo from their younger days, though the shirt was a bit worn and stretched across Jane’s generous breasts in a way he’d never noticed with his sister.

“Please.”

That one word, breathless and full of hunger. This moment was nothing like Jane stripping out of her sexy-secretary outfit last night. No, it was infinitely more satisfying. Revealing Jane as she truly was, not made up and “prepped” and presenting a role she thought would satisfy him. He might be the one baring himself, but Jane was just as vulnerable. The rightness of it hit him in the gut as he reached for the hem of the tee.

His knuckles brushed the bare skin of her belly, and as the shirt rose, he grazed them along, feeling her, learning her all over again. Jane’s skin was so soft he wanted to rub his face against it, mark her with his scent and the scratch of his stubble and the bite of his teeth. The rise and fall of her chest accelerated as he neared her breasts, but he didn’t pause, just took the shirt straight over her head. Anything sexual, she would initiate. Whatever she needed, he would give, no matter how much his instincts screamed at him to get her under his control or, hell, just under him. Whatever he could get.

The same lace demibra she’d worn last night cupped her breasts. He left it alone—he didn’t have the kind of discipline necessary to remove it without playing with those oh-so-responsive nipples. Instead he dropped to one knee and started on the buttons of her cutoffs.

She wasn’t wearing panties. He squeezed his eyelids shut at the realization, struggling to keep control, but he wasn’t made of stone. He leaned forward, pushed his nose against her mound, and took a deep breath. Aroused woman. Warm skin. Jane’s own unique scent and a hint of perfume from the soap she’d used in the shower. Christ, he wanted her.

Not yet.

A smile escaped. That was the same thing he’d told himself last night when he’d been inside her. When Jane’s hot, wet body had been squeezing him tight. He felt his balls draw up, the desire to put himself out of his misery filling him until he shook with it.

Not yet. Not yet.

Sitting back on his ankles, he forced his greedy hands to his thighs. When he looked up into Jane’s lowered gaze, the way she devoured his nakedness shot a surge of blood to his already aching cock.

Still she didn’t move. What was she waiting for?

“Touch me, Jane.” Love me.

She started at his back. Her fingers whispered across his shoulders, exploring the hills and valleys, lingering over the freckles that decorated his pale Scottish skin, trailing through his hair where it brushed his neck. He wanted more. Harder. His head fell forward, and he arched into her searching hands. The curse he uttered under his breath brought the faintest giggle to Jane’s lips.

Lips she used to follow the trail her fingers had already taken.

“Tease,” he whispered into the still air.

Jane circled around in front of him. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

“I’ll show you payback, sub.” Pushing forward, he sought her lips, her touch, anything that would ease the strain in his rigid cock, the screaming need for her to take him into her hands. Jane only backed away, but she took him with her, urging him to his feet.

He noticed her missing bra on the way up. A heavy groan escaped as his lips grazed the inner curve of one breast. Jane gulped in air, but she didn’t retreat.

“Jane…Jesus.” His breath was ragged as he struggled to get air, but he kept his gaze on hers. He didn’t close his eyes. He did as she asked—let her see everything, exactly how she was ripping him apart. “I love you.”

Something soft entered Jane’s expression, and then she leaned up on tiptoe and brushed his parted lips with hers. A reward, like the one he’d given her last night. Unable to hold back at the taste of her, V. angled his head and took her kiss without permission, upping the pressure, opening her lips, pushing his tongue inside. Hot. Wet. She moaned around him.

The kiss seemed never ending, but it wasn’t enough for long. When her fingers found the silver rings in his nipples and tugged, he threw his head back, his hungry cry filling the room. Jane sucked one into her mouth, and his hunger plunged into desperation.

“That’s it, Jane. Take me in. Suck me. Fuck!”

She switched sides, and he couldn’t keep from gripping her head, encouraging her to get closer, take more. He fought not to take over, not to demand, but the pleasure surging through him, striking his balls, urging his hips forward to brush the tip of his cock against her soft belly, unraveled his control thread by thread.

“Jane,” he groaned when she released him. Her lips, wet and swollen, slid across his skin to the line that bisected his abs. And followed it down.

Christ, he was going to lose his mind.

She was on her knees before him. She was supposed to be the one in charge, the one deciding how this went, but a satisfied smile played along her lips as she knelt. That look… He balled his hands into fists, told his cock in no uncertain terms to wait—anything for that look to continue. Anything.

The only thing he couldn’t control was his eyes. When Jane met them, she also cupped his heavy erection, and V. knew she read his demand in his stare: Comply. Obey. Put your goddamn mouth on me and suck me into oblivion.

He sure as hell read her acceptance in those pretty blue eyes. And then her gaze shifted to his cock and his gut clenched with the depth of his need. She trailed a single fingertip along the underside of his shaft. “So beautiful.”

When she licked her lips, his cock jerked, his muscles clenching with the need to orgasm. Jane’s smile returned.

“Jane.”

Her smile flickered. She shivered. That growl in his voice, the one that said he was on the very edge of his control—he could tell from the sudden tightening of her nipples how much she loved it.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Lick.”

She did.

Shit.

No more playing around. Jane opened her mouth and slid his cock onto her tongue. Closed. Sucked. V.’s eyes rolled back in his head.

“Jane. Jane. Jane!” Her name became a chant, a talisman he clung to in order to keep his climax at bay with every thrust. In and out, in and out, Jane’s tongue swirling along his sensitive head, her throat gloving him when he pushed deep. He forced his gaze to stay connected with hers, forced himself to show her every inch of pleasure, every tingle signaling imminent explosion, every throbbing heartbeat in his chest and in his screaming erection. When he knew one more second would bring the end for him, he demanded release with a wordless shout.

Jane sucked harder.

Waves of ecstasy rolled through him. Spurt after spurt emptied into the wet cavern of Jane’s mouth, every swallow extending his orgasm until his knees went weak and he hit the floor beside her. Eyes closed, he reached for her, dragging her warm body over to blanket his as he struggled to surface from the swan dive that had taken him under.

“Goddamn, woman, you—”

Yeah, not the time to try to form words.

It was Jane’s mouth on his neck that finally brought him around. Suction, just like he’d felt on his nipples, on his cock. Marking him—she was marking him as hers. He groaned and rolled them over, finally getting her exactly where he wanted her.

Underneath him.

Blood immediately began to pool once more in his groin.

Jane’s open eyes met his the second his eyelids lifted. Satisfaction and desperate need swirled together in the blue depths. He settled his forehead against hers.

“Pleased with yourself?”

Her grin was all the answer he needed.

“Hmm. So does this mean you forgive me?” he asked with a tap to the still-tingling spot on his neck.

“Yes,” she whispered against his mouth. “I love you, Vincent. I always have. I couldn’t get over you, though Lord knows I tried, but you were always there, in the back of my mind, tempting me toward something more.”

He dug his hands beneath her, forcing her closer to his body, melding every inch of them together. Jane sighed her pleasure as he took her kiss.

Long moments later he forced himself to rise from her body.

Uncertainty flickered across her face. “What now?”

“Now,” he said, striding over to his clothes, “it’s your turn.”

She glanced at his cock on the return trip. “I don’t think I’m going alone.”

“Nope.” He stopped at her feet and nudged the inside of one leg. “Open for me, sub.”

Jane blushed as she settled onto her back, naked, and opened her legs to reveal her core. The sight settled in his gut, forcing his cock up, and he unrolled the condom he’d retrieved over it, then moved to his knees between Jane’s thighs.

He took a moment just to look at her, to let the certainty that she was his, finally, after eight god-awful years, solidify inside him. “Mine,” he growled as he moved to crouch over her on all fours. “Not just my sub,” he murmured. His lips met hers, and she opened immediately, inviting him in. He slid his tongue and cock inside her at the same time, swallowing her gasp, savoring the tight heat of her channel spasming around him. “All mine.”

He sat back, adjusting Jane’s hips up his thighs until he could thrust easily. “Be still, sub,” he warned.

Jane struggled to meet his eyes, desire taking over as a whispered litany of “I love you” escaped her lips. Was there ever anything more beautiful than Jane in the throes of pleasure? He pulled back, pressed in, and she quivered around him as she struggled to obey, to stay still.

No, nothing as beautiful as this, ever.

He set a rhythm, in and out. Jane’s thighs shook with the strain of holding herself immobile, and her clit stood out, red and swollen, begging for his touch. Watching her closely, he pulled back, and on the next thrust, flicked her clit with a fingertip.

Jane arched at the pain. “V.!” Then, a pant or two later, “Please! Again.”

He did it again. Her body spasmed around his with every thrust, every pop against her clit, every breath, it seemed, until he wondered how the hell he could hold out long enough for her to come. She was sopping wet, crying, begging for him to give her relief, but still he held out, taking her higher, higher, almost to the breaking point.

Jane gripped her thighs and pulled, curling herself up until she stared him straight in the eye. “V., please.”

“I know.” He tilted his hips and brought their pelvic bones together, mashing her clit between them. “I know what you need.”

She sagged back, relief through her expression. “I-I—” She swallowed hard. “I always knew…”

Another slam, and Jane seemed to lose her train of thought.

“Knew what, love?”

Her dazed eyes met his. “I always knew…you were exactly what I needed.”

“Exactly,” he growled as he ground against her clit and felt her orgasm detonate around him, pulling him under. “Always.”

∞

Did you enjoy ONLY FOR THE WEEKEND? If so, you can leave a review here. And thank you!

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Also by Ella Sheridan

Want to read the book that first introduced Vincent and Weekend Washout? Here it is!

NAUGHTY LITTLE CHRISTMAS

Secrets To Hide 2

Harley Fisher’s life changed forever when her twin sister gave birth to a baby one month before she died. This Christmas, Harley wants her adopted daughter to have the very best gift possible: her real father. Determined to discover if Damien Adams is worthy of being a part of the baby’s life, Harley forces her way into a job as the manager-in-training for his new nightclub, Thrice. Damien is blunt, challenging, and sexy as all get-out. Desiring him is wrong, but when he touches her, it’s oh so right.

Damien needs a manager for Thrice so he can return to overseeing all three of his clubs. Harley’s too young, too hip, too damn tempting—and perfect for the job. Wanting her violates every rule he’s laid out for his life, but even the strongest convictions can falter under the mistletoe.

Harley’s keeping one hell of a secret. When Damien finds out, will Harley and his daughter be the best Christmas gift he’s ever received, or will her secrets leave them with nothing more lasting than a naughty little Christmas this year?

∞

And the first book in the Secrets To Hide series…

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET

Secrets To Hide 1

Cailin Gray transferred to the new Atlanta branch of her company to work for the senior vice president, Alex Brannigan. But before her job begins, she allows the anonymity of the big city to lure her into a night of dancing—and the arms of a mystery lover hotter than anything this country girl could imagine. When she wakes alone, his absence hurts more than she thought it would, but not nearly as much as walking into the office Monday morning and discovering her lover is her new, married boss.

Alex has one goal: help his best friend, Sara Beth, keep her inheritance. Their plan included a marriage of convenience—check—taking over the vice president’s position—check—and keeping the platonic state of their relationship secret until their position of power is solidified. That last takes time, but the resulting solitude weighs heavily. Until Cailin. He told himself a single night would have to be enough, but fate had other plans. Now he must choose between keeping his dirty little secret and fulfilling his promise to Sara Beth, or finding the strength to free them all from the secrets that bind them.

∞

JUST A LITTLE MORE

Secrets To Hide 3

Angel is determined to find herself again. Brad is determined to wake her up—to life without fear, and a love that heals the deepest wounds.

∞

And don’t miss Ella’s romantic suspense trilogy, SOUTHERN NIGHTS, including:

TEACH ME

Southern Nights 1

Jess’s ex wants her back, but Conlan can teach her to protect herself. Too bad she can’t protect her heart.

TRUST ME

Southern Nights 2

Hiding kept Maddie safe, but her search for justice will expose her once more. She has no choice but to trust Jack—and pray they both come out alive.

TAKE ME

Southern Nights 3

One twin left when she needed him most. To find her son, she’ll need them both, but loving them could cost her everything.

∞

“Ms. Sheridan writes suspense that grabs you and won’t let go.”

~ Pat from Tea and Book

About the Author

Ella Sheridan grew up in the Deep South, where books provided adventures, friends, and her first taste of romance. Now she writes her own romantic adventures, with plenty of hot alpha men and the women who love and challenge them. With a day job, a husband, two active teenagers, and two not so active cats, Ella is always busy, but getting the voices in her head down on paper is a top priority. Connect with Ella at:

Ella’s Website

Facebook

Twitter (@AuthorESheridan)

Amazon Author Page

E-mail (ellasheridan.writer@gmail.com)

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