Wild Submission

by Roxy Sloane

For exclusive giveaways,
and more sign-up for my newsletter:
eepurl.com/S-rWz

Come find me on facebook:
facebook.com/roxysloaneauthor

Let’s tweet:
twitter.com/Roxy_Sloane

Copyright 2014 Roxy Sloane

Cover Design: Louisa Maggio at LM Creations

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

ONE: ISABELLE

TWO: CAM

THREE: ISABELLE

FOUR: CAM

FIVE: ISABELLE

SIX: CAM

SEVEN: ISABELLE

EIGHT: CAM

NINE: ISABELLE

TEN: CAM

ELEVEN: ISABELLE

TWELVE: CAM

THIRTEEN: ISABELLE

FOURTEEN: CAM

PROLOGUE

Submission begins like a seduction. A slow, careful dance to discover what you really need.

Do you hold my gaze or glance away? Will you lean into my touch, or flinch from the connection? Does your mouth fall open in a silent moan when my grip turns rougher; my hands tugging harder in your hair; my whispered demands pushing you to the edge of anything you’ve ever tried before—and beyond?

I see it in your eyes. I can read the secret desire you’ve been hiding. And I know that when I push you back against the wall and slowly force you to your knees, you’ll go willingly, a slave to the passion that’s already making you tremble. Wet. Ready to obey.

Because here with me, you can be free. Free to admit the craving deep inside you, to be controlled. Educated.

Mastered.

Yes, I can tell, you want to submit to my every command. You’ll get on your knees and part those eager lips and please me, every way you can. And in that surrender, I promise, I’ll show you a release like you’ve never felt before.

My control will free us both. It’s the only thing I need in the world, and the one thing that could destroy me. Because now that I’ve tasted a surrender like no other, I can’t go back to how things were before.

Isabelle Ashcroft.

After years of reading women like an open book, she’s the first to confound me. Who is the real Isabelle? The gorgeous ice queen she pretends to be in public? A victim in need of my protection?

Or the temptation I cannot ignore?

Control is everything to me. There’s not a woman in my life I haven’t mastered completely—and she will be no different.

She thinks her submission will be on her terms. Her rules. But she doesn’t know me just yet.

The only rules that matter are mine. My hands caressing her fair skin. My collar around her throat.

My body pushing her to the brink.

She will surrender, and I will keep my precious control. The alternative is unthinkable. Impossible.

Isabelle will be mine.

ONE: ISABELLE

What have I done?

The lights of New York blur outside the windows of Cam’s Maserati as he speeds away from The Underground, his secret club. He hasn’t said a word to me since I walked in and offered myself to him.

Offered to be his sub.

I feel a shiver just remembering how I waited on my knees for him, naked, my head bent and obedient. He had no idea that I followed him there tonight. I can’t believe I was so bold.

Stupid, a voice in my head corrects me, sneering. But I push it away. I’m still clinging to the hope that Cam will take me up on my request. That he’ll introduce me to the world he’s been hiding from me: a world of dark secrets and thrilling possibility.

The world that fills me with fear—and a hot desire.

I meant everything I said to him tonight.

“I want you to show me. What you do here. What you are. Teach me, Cam. How to please you, how to feel pleasure for myself.”

I sneak a look at him. His eyes are fixed to the road, but I can see the tension radiating from under his designer suit. His strong hands grip the steering wheel, his muscular body clenched and angry. It reminds me of the last time he drove me home from the club, the night that started everything. My adopted brother Brent had taken me there with a business friend of his. He’d planned for them to play—with me as their toy. It was only Cam busting into the room that rescued me from Brent’s selfish abuse, and opened my eyes to just how toxic and damaging our relationship had become.

For ten years of my life, Brent had been the center of the world to me. But now I see how he corrupted my childish adoration, manipulated me for his own pleasure and kicks. Since our father disinherited him, he depends on me for his luxury apartment and fancy cars. He thought I was so weak that he could push me around forever, but that night was the end for me.

I’m finally free.

And it’s all thanks to the man beside me in the car; the man ignoring me like I didn’t just offer him everything.

“Cam?” I can’t take the silence anymore. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” Cam’s reply is short and harsh.

“What did I do wrong?”

Instead of answering, Cam wrenches the wheel, turning into the underground parking garage of his luxury apartment building. The car screeches to a stop in the far corner. Cam shuts off the engine, breathing heavily.

“Cam?” I reach over and touch his arm, but he flinches away.

“I won’t discuss this tonight.” He says.

“But—”

“Isabelle, no!”

When he turns back to me, his jaw is clenched, and warning flashes in his blue eyes. “Don’t push me, that’s an order.”

I catch my breath, feeling the thrill of his command. This is the Cam that scares and arouses me, the man who is totally in control of every situation.

My nipples tighten. I feel wet.

“Yes, Master,” I murmur, testing him.

“Don’t call me that!” Cam growls. He shoves the car door open and gets out. I quickly scramble to follow.

“Why not?” My voice echoes after him in the empty parking garage. He stops, his back turned to me. “It’s what you like, isn’t it?”

Cam slowly turns. His fists are clenched at his sides as his eyes rake over me. Everything about him screams power and precision, and it takes my breath away.

“This isn’t a game, Isabelle. You don’t know what you’re offering me.”

“Maybe I do.” I take a step towards him. “Maybe being your sub is the one thing that makes sense to me right now.”

Cam shakes his head. “You’re still confused about Brent—”

“No!” Now I’m the one to angrily cut him off. “This is about you. You’ve showed me a new side of myself. I never knew until I met you. Until I saw your playroom, and realized… I want this.”

Pleasure and power. Submission and control. They were just words to me until I discovered Cam’s secret life as a Dom. Now, it’s all I can think about.

“This is my choice,” I vow, taking another step toward him. I’m closer now, close enough to see the lust in his eyes, and how close he is to the edge. “This is what I want. I’ve spent my life pleasing other people, and now I want to please myself.”

“Do you even hear what you’re saying?” Cam tries to be dismissive. “You want to please yourself by becoming my sub?”

“Yes.” I stand my ground. “That’s what you told me about the scene, isn’t it? That I would find freedom in surrender. That submitting to you would show me a pleasure I’d never known before.”

“I wasn’t talking about you,” Cam scowls. “I meant other women. Women who have experience in this world. Who know the rules.”

“So teach me. Show me. Give me that experience.”

I close the final few paces between us, and stare boldly into his eyes. The old Isabelle would have turned and fled in humiliation by now, having her advance rejected. But I won’t be so easily pushed around.

For once, I’m going to fight for what I want.

Cam inhales a ragged breath. “You aren’t ready.”

“That’s my decision to make,” I counter.

“It’s unprofessional,” he tries to argue. “Your father—”

“Is dead,” I finish. “He was your mentor, but that has nothing to do with what’s happening between us.”

“And what’s that?” Cam asks, still trying to keep the upper hand.

I reach out and place both hands on his chest. I can feel the muscles beneath his crisp shirt. I slide them slowly lower.

“This,” I whisper, not breaking eye contact. “Can’t you feel it?”

Cam stares back. The electricity between us is pulsing, dangerously hot. My fingertips stroke over the ridge of his abs, coming to rest on the tip of his belt.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” I murmur, wetting my lips. He’s close to breaking point, I can feel it. I just need to push him over the edge, and make him see how good this could be. How right. “Tell me what you need, Master.”

I push too far. Cam jerks away at the word, breaking the spell.

“Stop!” he barks angrily. “If this is going to work, you will obey me.” I follow him to the elevator and get in quickly when it appears.

The ride up to the penthouse is tense. He won’t talk to me, won’t even look in my direction.

The doors open. “Go to bed, Isabelle,” he orders me roughly. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“But—”

I stare at the man before me, the one I want to dedicate myself to. The doors slide shut behind me and all I can do is wonder, holding on to a small flicker of hope.

Does this mean he’s considering it?

TWO: CAM

I arrive at my penthouse floor and swiftly head to my master bedroom suite.

The minute I’m alone, I spin around and slam my fist into the mirrored wall of my walk-in closet.

Fuck!

The glass shatters beneath my knuckles, but I don’t feel the pain. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the splintered glass. I’m wild-eyed and furious.

Totally out of control.

The reality shocks me back to myself. I reel back, breathing fast. My hand is bleeding now, glass broken on the floor. I couldn’t even look at her in the elevator; I wanted her so much I didn’t trust myself to even glance in her direction.

I lock the door behind me and go to the bathroom, taking down my first aid kit. I run cold water over the wound, then bandage it tightly, focusing completely on the task to block out the memory of Isabelle back at the club.

Her gorgeous body, naked and waiting for me. Her lips parted in submission, her eyes begging me for the control I long to demand.

She would be the perfect sub.

The thing most men don’t realize is that the best subs aren’t meek, passive women. A girl who agrees with every word and leaps to your command from the start is no challenge at all. Surrender given so freely is no prize to me.

No, the best subs are fighters. Women who cling to their control even as they submit, struggling for the upper hand until the delicious moment that you break them completely: show them the true sweetness of their surrender.

And Isabelle…she would fight me every step of the way. I can see it in her bold proposition, the glint of defiance in her eyes even as she bent her head and called me ‘Master.’

My blood boils, remembering the soft moan of the word on her lips. I want to hear it screamed out loud, begged and whimpered as I school her with my whips, my chains.

My cock.

From down the hallway, I hear the front door close. She’s here. Her footsteps tap lightly on the floor, approaching my bedroom. They pause by the door.

Silence.

I can picture her there, her hand raised to knock. Her body straining at the silk of that sinful dress, her mouth wet and ready to pleasure me.

All I want is her, and I vow: if she asks again, if she knocks, then to hell with everything.

I’ll throw the door open and fuck her right there in the hall. Claim her body, thrust deep between those satiny thighs, pin her wrists to the floor, spreading her legs with my knee, tease and tantalize her until she’s screaming.

My cock stiffens at the thought. I tense, ready.

But the footsteps slowly retreat. A door closes. The apartment is still.

I exhale with a growl, reaching to give myself the release she’s just denied. I pump hard and fast, imagining her lips sliding around me, those blue eyes gazing up as I thrust deep into her mouth.

I come with a groan. Fuck, this is what she’s done to me, driven me so crazy I can’t see straight: jerking off in the bathroom like some green kid. She needs to be taught a lesson. She needs to know who’s in control.

I pull myself back together, my resolve already set.

She wants to be my sub and learn everything about this dark world of control and desire? I’ll give her what she wants—but on my terms. No disobedience, no more pushing my buttons and forcing my hand.

I’ve been holding back, worried about her emotions and history with Brent. But if she is certain, I won’t stand in her way.

I take what I want. And I want her.

THREE: ISABELLE

I wake to the sound of clinking dishes and the whir of the coffee maker. Stretching out in the luxurious bed, the super-soft sheets feel like heaven on my warm, naked skin. The only thing that could make this better was if Cam were here beside me.

Cam.

I sit up, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning. He didn’t reject my request completely: he said we’d talk about it today.

That means the answer might be ‘yes.’

I pull on some yoga pants and a fitted T-shirt. There’s a weird flutter of excitement in my stomach. I’m not used to feeling like this: nervous and excited about a man.

You’re not used to feeling much of anything at all.

I walk through the hallways, into the kitchen. Cam looks up from behind the counter. “Good morning,” he says smoothly. His eyes trail over my body, and I feel a flash of pride. My body is tight and toned after years of diet and workouts, and the Lycra yoga pants show off every lean curve.

“Good morning,” I reply, smiling. I pour myself a glass of juice from the fresh-squeezed pitcher on the table—giving him a view of my ass as I turn away. I smile to myself. He’s made a show so far of pushing me away, but Cam can’t hide the desire in his eyes. Or the passion that heated our kisses. There’s no way that a man who doesn’t want me could make me respond like that.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks smoothly.

“Fine, thanks.” I perch on a stool and watch him flip pancakes expertly on the griddle. Everything he does is with effortless precision, and I can’t wait to feel those hands on me.

“Any plans for the day?” Cam asks casually.

He’s still pretending like this is any other morning, so I play along. “I thought I’d catch an early yoga class, maybe meet a friend for lunch.”

I take a strawberry from the bowl on the counter. I bite down on the sweet, juicy fruit and murmur with pleasure. Something flickers in Cam’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, licking my lips. “Should I have asked permission first?”

He slides some pancakes onto a plate and tops them with a few spoonfuls of fresh berries from the bowl.

“Sit down and eat before you go.” His voice is curt. Clearly, he’s not in a teasing mood.

My confidence wavers. What if I read him wrong last night, and he doesn’t want to introduce me to his world?

I take a seat and avoid his gaze as Cam fills his own plate and sits down across from me. He eats slowly, slicing his pancakes and spearing each bite. The tension builds, and I’m dying to say something, but I hold back, waiting until finally he puts down his fork and catches my eye.

“You want to be a part of my world, and I’m ready to share it with you,” he says slowly. “But we need to have a serious talk first.”

I’m ready to jump out of my chair with anticipation, but I force myself to stay cool. “I’m listening,” I say, pushing my untouched plate away.

Cam meets my eyes. “What you suggested last night, being my sub. It’s not something I take lightly.”

“Me either,” I say quickly. He silences me with a look.

“The relationship between a Dom and his sub is built on trust. It’s the most powerfully intimate experience two people can have. And it works because the sub agrees to give up complete control to the Dom. She knows that she’s giving the gift of herself to her Master. In turn, her Master agrees to take care of her, from the littlest detail to the most important decisions. It’s his job to keep her safe, happy and well cared for. Does that make sense?”

I pause. I’ve only been focused on the sexual part of the relationship: wondering if he’ll spank me, blindfold me, cuff me to his bed, bind my legs open so he can see my most private part. Will he drip hot wax over my body? Would I like it if he did? I keep thinking of the upstairs playroom stocked with toys, the decadent sex club, and Cam towering over me, paddle in hand. But now I realize, it’s so much more.

I nod.

“If you’re serious about becoming my sub, then you need to understand the rules.”

“What kind of rules?” I ask.

Cam clears his throat. “One. You submit to me in all ways by following my commands. Two. You don’t question me, unless I give you permission to do so. Three. You trust me. We trust each other. That means you won’t hold back. I’ll ask everything of you, I expect you to give it freely. Not because I tell you to, but because you want to.”

Cam leans over the table, his fierce gaze holding mine.

“You’ll be safe with me. Even if you’re scared or in pain, you have to know that I’ll never push you past what you can handle. But you can handle a lot more than you think you can, and as your Master, I’ll take you and make you mine.”

I stare at him, my heart pounding. This is getting real fast. “Ok…” I stammer. “I can do that.”

Cam senses my nerves. “Look, Isabelle. This isn’t just about what we do at the club or in the bedroom. It’s a full time commitment. The terms of our arrangement are in force 24-7. It doesn’t end just because you don’t feel like doing what I tell you at a particular moment.”

I swallow.

“Now, eat your breakfast while it’s hot.” Cam’s request is casual. I shake my head.

“I’m not hungry. I’ll just grab something later.”

His eyes flare. “You just broke rule number one. If you disobey me, I have to punish you.”

I gasp. We just went from zero to sixty in about five seconds flat. For a moment, I think Cam’s just teasing me, but there’s a predatory animal glint in his gaze that tells me he’s deadly serious.

“How would you punish me?” I whisper. Suddenly I realize I don’t know anything about this world that he inhabits.

“It depends on the severity of your disobedience,” Cam explains. “Some Doms use spanking, flogging or restraints.”

I flinch, remembering Brent trying to beat me back at the club.

Cam continues. “I might deny you pleasure or release. If you’d committed a major infraction, your punishment could last days or longer until you’d earned back your privileges.”

“But you’d hurt me?” I ask, still thinking about it.

Cam softens. “Not like that. Not like him.”

I flush. Am I really so transparent?

“We’d work out a list of limits together,” he continues. “So nothing would be a surprise. It’s all about trust,” he repeats. “And if you’re not willing to put that trust in me, we should stop right now.”

Conflicting emotions race through me. I want this desperately, but at the same time, I’m intimidated. I’ve spent my life trying to keep control when everything felt like it was slipping from my power. Giving it up willingly to anyone is really scary.

Cam has already seen through my glamorous façade, seen more of me than anyone in the world. What happens when it all falls away? What happens when he sees the secrets I’ve been hiding for so long?

“I’ll understand if you change your mind,” Cam says. “This isn’t for everyone. Especially someone like you,” he adds.

I tense. He doesn’t think I can handle it. That I’m just some silly girl who doesn’t know what she wants.

I’m determined to prove him wrong. I meet Cam’s gaze with fierce determination. “I can handle it. I want this, Cam.”

He stares back, and something shifts in his expression. He gets up and goes to his briefcase, pulling some papers out and setting them on the table in front of me. “Fine. Read this over and take the day to think about it.”

My frustration builds. More delays?

“What is it?” I ask, pulling the papers closer.

“A contract. This just outlines the basic agreement. We’ll fine tune it as you discover what you like, and what your hard limits are.”

“Sexy,” I mutter, disappointed. I didn’t expect him to be so clinical about this.

I see a quirk of amusement on his lips, then Cam gives me a stern look. “There are risks here, for both of us. Having a contract ensures there’s nothing hidden.”

And no way this can be used against him, I realize, scanning the pages. There’s a confidentiality clause, and all kinds of legal jargon too. It means that if this goes wrong, for whatever reason, then we’re both protected against a lawsuit.

I can’t imagine what would lead to that point, but I understand, too. Cam has a reputation in the business world. If it got out that he enjoyed this kind of thing, it could ruin his career.

I sign with a scrawl.

“You didn’t read it properly.” Cam looks angry.

“I trust you,” I say simply. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

He stares again, and then his lips slowly stretch in a devastating smile. “You realize what that means, don’t you?”

I shake my head, my pulse beating faster. He’s looking at me like I’m a juicy steak he wants to devour.

“You’re mine now.” Suddenly, he pulls me against him, wrapping a solid arm around my waist. He kisses me hard, so intense. I feel myself get wet. Is he going to fuck me now?

Cam releases me, then leans to whisper, low in my ear. “And tonight, I’ll show you what that means.”

He’s already picking up his briefcase and walking out, leaving me alone with nothing but my desire and the contract.

What have I gotten myself into?

FOUR: CAM

The office is already buzzing with activity when I arrive. Set in a midtown skyscraper, Ashcroft Industries towers over the city, and has dozens of departments overseeing our interests here in the States and abroad. Charles Ashcroft and his partner built the company from nothing to one of the biggest transportation companies in the country; now that he’s dead, it’s down to me as acting CEO to guide the company and advise his daughter, Keely, on operations.

“Good morning, Mr. McCullough.” My secretary, Jeannie, rises from her desk outside my corner office. “Everything OK?”

“Yes,” I frown. “Why?”

“You’re late,” Jeannie says, sounding confused. “Was there a meeting I missed in the book?”

“No,” I reply. “I just… took some time at the gym.”

“Oh. Well, text me if you plan on changing your morning schedule,” she says, part scolding. “I had coffee waiting, but now it’s gone cold.”

“Sorry, Jeannie.” I smile. A sixty-something woman with four kids all grown, Jeannie has been with the company for years, and is always trying to mother me with vitamin supplements and fresh fruit. “It won’t be a regular thing.”

She nods, pulling out her tablet computer. “You have the new marketing review at ten, foreign financing at eleven, then a conference call with the LA office at three.”

“And the team—?”

“Is waiting for you in the conference room,” she finishes efficiently. “Anything else?”

“Coffee would be great, thanks. I promise, I won’t let this one go cold.”

Jeannie tuts, but she heads for the kitchen area all the same. I grab some files from my office and head for my first meeting of the day. With any luck, I’ll be able to put Isabelle from my thoughts entirely and focus on work.

She’s already occupied too much of my mind. Running late is out of character for me: a good boss should be the first in the door in the morning, and the last out at night. It’s the only way to lead by example; I’ve seen too many Wall Street jackasses laze around spending shareholder money and expecting everyone else to pick up the slack.

Ashcroft trusted me with this company, and I won’t let him down.

The morning passes without incident. I deal with status reports from my department heads, discuss the quarterly earnings report, and consult with a team about a potential new acquisition. By the time the last person leaves my office and I get a moment of peace, it’s noon.

“Hold my calls,” I tell Jeannie through the intercom. “Give me ten minutes.”

I walk to the windows and take a deep breath. The view is magnificent: I can see the city spread out in front of me, all the way to Central Park and the river.

I’m a long way from home.

I think briefly of the small Scottish village I grew up in. There were barely five hundred people, living on the edge of a loch in the Highlands. It’s remote, wild and rugged, but for a young man, it felt more like a prison. I counted down the days until I turned sixteen and struck out on my own, moving to Glasgow and working in the mailroom of a shipping company while I took night classes and learned everything I could about business and economics.

My big break came when Ashcroft Industries bought out the company. Ashcroft himself visited to tour our operation, and I was assigned to drive him around. I was supposed to be an errand boy, the lowest on the ladder, but Ashcroft liked to chat about his plans for the company and future expansion. He wanted to hear my ideas, he said that the people on the ground floor knew things that the corporate bosses never even thought about. When it came time for him to head back to the States, he offered me a job to come with him, to learn from him and work my way up.

I’ve never looked back.

And now, here I am: acting head of a Fortune 500 company, with everything I could want in life.

Everything, including her.

The views melt away, and all I can see is Isabelle. Waiting on her knees, naked and trembling with anticipation for my touch. God, it was my wildest fantasy come to life. No matter what she thinks or what she’s done, she’s an innocent. And nothing is sweeter to me than teaching an innocent the dark pleasures they hide inside.

The things I’ll teach her…

I can picture it now, showing her every toy and instrument in my playroom. She’ll be spread for me, bent over my spanking bench. Her long, creamy thighs flexing with pleasure as I trail my leather crop over that gorgeous ass. I can hear the whimpered frenzy of her desire already. I’ll mark that flesh with stripes of red, brand her with my mark. And then, then I’ll show her the pleasure that matches every beat of pain.

My cock stiffens. Fuck, I can’t wait. I want to wrap my hand with that silky blonde hair and use it like reins, tug her head back as I fuck her from behind. No mercy, no release, just hard deep thrusts until she’s quivering around my cock.

My intercom buzzes, shattering the scene. Fuck.

“Mr. McCullough?” It’s Jeannie.

“Yes?” I bark.

“Miss Ashcroft is waiting on your three PM.”

It takes me a second to realize she means Keely, and not Isabelle. “I’ll be right there,” I snap, releasing the button.

I clench my fists, willing my body back under control.

This is your second strike.

Showing up late was the first mistake. Now, I’m distracted, ready to jerk off again in the middle of my damn office.

Where the hell is my control now?

I’m not usually like this. When I take on a new sub, it’s like a business arrangement. We state our terms, and come to a mutually beneficial settlement. I pick women who know the deal. No emotion, no messy desires spilling over into my everyday life. I keep my worlds separate for a reason, and the result is always satisfying.

But Isabelle…

She has a way of getting under my skin. Already, she’s blurring the boundaries between my professional and personal lives. And not just because I knew her from before. I cannot stop thinking about her. I’ll just have to be extra careful to keep my walls up and maintain the limits between us—just like with any other sub.

Except she’s nothing like any of the others.

* * *

I stay late at work to make up for my morning laxness: it’s after nine PM by the time I unlock the penthouse door and walk inside.

Isabelle appears in the hallway. “You’re back,” she says, something like relief on her beautiful face. “I didn’t know…” she trails off.

I should have called. “Were you waiting long?”

“No,” she says quickly. “I just didn’t know if you’d gone out for dinner, or…”

“I often work late,” I explain, moving to the kitchen and putting my briefcase down. “But you shouldn’t worry about me. In the future I’ll let you know my schedule”

I look around, noticing that there are takeout containers on the counter, and a table set for two.

“You were waiting.” I realize.

Isabelle flushes. “It doesn’t matter,” she says, looking away.

Damn, this is the kind of thing I didn’t want to deal with: the emotions that come from a real relationship. I’ve never lived with a woman before. My time has always been my own.

“It was a nice thought,” I tell her gently. And it is. I get a sudden flash of coming home to this every night: Isabelle waiting, her freshly-washed hair still tousled and damp, ready to serve me however I saw fit.

She stands in front of me now, and I can see the nervous anticipation on her face.

I feel a surge of power.

She’s offered herself to me. She’s mine now—whether she realizes it fully or not. I could hoist her up onto the kitchen island right now and shove those thighs apart; drive deep into the slick clench of her pussy,, grinding up to hit her G-spot just right as I pin her body down and ride her until she breaks.

“Cam?” Her voice snaps me back to reality. I look over, and have to hide a smile.

The poor girl is terrified.

“Let me guess,” I murmur, moving closer. “You’ve spent all day wondering what this arrangement will entail. That pretty little brain of yours has run riot, hasn’t it?”

Isabelle flushes again, but when I reach out to stroke her cheek, she relaxes, just a little.

“Maybe,” she admits.

I grin. “Did you think I would chain you up and paddle you? Lead you around with a collar on?”

Isabelle laughs nervously.

“Relax,” I tell her, feeling protective. “Tonight is about getting to know each other.”

Because only once I start to strip away her perfect façade will I be able to truly dominate this woman.

I draw her closer and kiss her softly on the lips. She shivers and nuzzles into me, her body fitting perfectly against my side.

We’re wearing too many clothes.

“It’s been a long day,” I tell her, smiling. “We’re going to take a shower.”

I take her hand and lead her through the apartment, all the way to my master suite. I spared no expense with the decorating of this property, and my bathroom is a sanctuary now. Glossy black Italian marble tiles line the walls, and there’s a deep sunken Jacuzzi tub and walk-in shower with a long bench: for relaxing under the tumble of water…or for less relaxing activities.

I push a few buttons and hot water cascades from the rain shower spray heads mounted in the ceiling.

“Take off your clothes,” I tell her in a low order.

Isabelle slowly meets my eyes and peels off her T-shirt and jeans, revealing a matching lacy lingerie set.

God, she’s a masterpiece. High, full breasts, a flat stomach, and those long legs that are just begging to be wrapped around my waist as I shove her back against the wall. She holds my gaze as she runs her hands down her thighs, peeling off her lacy thong. This is better than Christmas. I could eat her up right now, she looks so good.

I strip off my clothes, erotic tension charging the air between us. My cock springs free, already hard, and I see Isabelle’s eyes widen in appreciation.

“Go ahead,” I say, gesturing to the steaming spray. “Ladies first.”

She twists her hair up and steps into the shower. The water hits her body, running in rivulets between her breasts and down over her thighs.

I could watch her forever, but there’s a more important plan tonight.

I join her and pull the door closed. Now we’re alone with nothing but the thrum of water and hot, wet skin.

I move closer.

Isabelle’s breath quickens. She wets her lips, and reaches toward me, but I grab her hands and pin them to her sides.

“No,” I say softly. “There’ll be plenty of time to touch me later. Believe me, I have plans for these hands. But now I want to discover your body. What you need, how your body feels. Tonight, it’s all about you.”

Isabelle goes still. I wonder if anyone’s shown this body the worship it deserves. If any man has even taken the time to explore every inch of her, touching and teasing her soft skin until she’s so aroused she can’t take it anymore.

Her asshole ex didn’t, that’s for sure. Men like him only take. They never give.

“Relax,” I order her. “Close your eyes, and just feel.”

She obediently lets her eyes fall shut. Slowly, her breathing settles, and I can see her sink into the sensual bliss of the shower jets.

I reach for the detachable shower head and slowly tease the stream of water down Isabelle’s body.

I start at her shoulders and the top of her gorgeous breasts. Using the spray of water, I brush her nipples until I see them pert and ready to be sucked. I continue down her chest, her stomach, and stop at the top of her pussy. I adjust the pressure on the showerhead so that it’s harder. I know she wants my hands on her, and fuck, I want to touch her all over, but the anticipation will be worth the release. I will relish the feel of her skin, trembling under my hands. But until then I will tease her.

I use the water to massage her in slow, deliberate strokes, directing the pounding pressure against that delicious mound. She moans.

I turn her around and lean her against me so I can get between her legs with the handheld. I slide my hand in between her legs, spreading them apart. I put the shower head at her pussy and move it back and forth, the spray tickling her clit and lips.

She rests her head against my shoulder as I slide it back and forth, getting her ready for me. I can feel her body stiffen now with a new kind of tension, and when I glance down, I see her nipples pebble tight with desire.

I hold back, resisting the urge to bend her over and fuck her now, teasing her with the head of my cock, bending her over and pounding into her. . She’s so slippery and damp, I know she’s needy there, too. Wet and tight and ready for me.

I put the shower head back with one hand and pull Isabelle back to me, tracing slow circles over her stomach and hips with my fingertips. “Tell me about yourself,” I murmur, slowing down the pace of my strokes. “What was your life like, before you were adopted by Ashcroft?”

Isabelle’s whole body goes rigid with tension. But as her Dom, I need to know her mind as well as her body.

I drop a gentle kiss on the back of her neck, encouraging her to trust me with her body and her secrets. Sliding my hands lower, I tease at the apex of her thighs, swirling my fingertips in the slim strip of hair. She’s still tense, so I move one hand to her breast, toying lightly with her peaked nipple.

Isabelle stifles a moan.

“Tell me,” I order her softly, as my fingers dip deeper between her thighs. I find the swollen nub of her clit, and gently circle.

She shudders. “I was adopted when I was thirteen. Before that, I lived with foster parents and in a group home.”

“What about your birth parents?”

Isabelle hesitates. I stop stroking.

“I never knew my dad,” she says quietly. “My mom was an addict. She got busted too many times. They took me away from her when I was just a kid.”

I feel a surge of anger, but I fight to keep it hidden. She’s opening up more to me than ever before. This is all part of her initiation, to belonging to me.

“Do you remember her at all?” I ask, whispering in her ear.

Isabelle shakes her head. “Not really. I don’t even have any pictures.” She pauses, and her voice is quiet and wistful. “Maybe it’s better that way.”

“How did you come to be adopted by Charles and his wife?” I ask. I don’t want to push her too hard, too soon, but I have a burning desire to know the truth. I can tell she’s uncomfortable revealing so much about herself, so I make sure to keep my touch light and soothing, distracting her from the ugliness of the story she’s telling.

“I was bounced around different foster families and group homes for years. Some of them were OK, but the others...” Isabelle pauses, and I feel her body tense again with the memories. She shakes her head. “Then I got lucky, I guess. I was in a group home when a social worker came one day. Said there was a couple, looking to adopt. I guess they’d seen my photo on the website. Even back then, I was pretty,” she adds, with a note of self-loathing in her voice. “They came to meet me, and that was it. They took me home with them the same day.”

“How did you feel about it?” I ask.

She shrugs. “They were good people. And I was lucky, I know. The money, the houses… They gave me everything money could buy.”

There’s a lot she’s not saying. I realize that the Ashcroft I knew: so ruthlessly ambitious, always working, on trips abroad and in the office, wouldn’t have been a perfect father. I probably saw more of him in the past eight years than she did.

I turn Isabelle to face me, and catch the flash of lonely vulnerability on her face. That’s why I kept her back to me this whole time—so she’d be as open as possible. I want to scoop her up in my arms and make love to her. Drive out all that sadness and isolation. Make her feel adored and treasured.

“Lie down on the bench,” I tell her softly. Isabelle lets out a breath of relief. She clearly thinks our conversation is over, but it’s only on pause for now.

She follows my command, draping her perfect body on the low, wide platform.

“Spread your legs for me,” I continue. She flushes, self-conscious, but she does it all the same.

I take a razor from the shelf and kneel down in front of her.

“I said I’m going to get to know every part of you,” I tell her. “Look at that gorgeous pussy.” I smooth a handful of foam between her thighs.

Isabelle wriggles.

“Be still,” I order her. She stops moving. I push her thighs further apart. Her pussy lips part gently, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of her swollen clit.

I slowly draw the razor down over her mound. I rinse and repeat until she’s cleanly shaven and bare. Then I lower my head and drop a light kiss on the smooth skin.

She shivers, arching her hips up against me. I can’t resist trailing my tongue lower, until it’s dancing over her clit.

Isabelle lets out a breathy moan.

God, she sounds so good. I lick lower, tasting her sweet, fresh taste. She parts her thighs wider, a silent invitation to take everything my body is straining to claim.

But I pull back. I get to my feet, and offer her a hand to help her up. She’s a little unsteady, swaying against me as I lead her out of the shower and wrap her in a soft robe. I take her out to the bedroom, and gently set her down in the middle of my huge king bed.

She lays there, her eyes bright with desire, her lips parted with anticipation.

I take three steps back, and sit down in the chair at the foot of the bed.

“Now, Isabelle, you’re going to do everything I say.”

“Yes,” she nods eagerly.

“Yes what?” I demand.

“Yes, Master,” she quickly corrects herself.

I reward her with a smile.

“Good. Now I want to see you touch yourself. I’m going to watch you come.”

FIVE: ISABELLE

I freeze, staring at Cam with a nervous excitement. He’s lounging back in his chair, but his body looks tense and poised for action.

“That was an order,” he tells me with a steely note. “Touch yourself, Isabelle.”

My stomach twists.

No one’s ever watched me before. Then again, Brent was never concerned with my pleasure. He only cared about his satisfaction, not mine.

I take a deep breath. It seems so intimate, so vulnerable.

You can do this.

I’m not really sure what he wants me to do, but I’ve seen enough porn to have an idea. Brent loved to make me watch; he said I could learn a thing or two from the girls on-screen.

Now, I bat my eyelashes at Cam and start squeezing my breasts like the girls in the movies. “Mmm,” I moan loudly, stroking down between my legs. I’m tender and turned on from that amazing shower, but I’m way too self-conscious right now to feel anything but awkward. Still, I fake it as best I can.

“Oh,” I breathe, “that feels so good.”

“Does it?” Cam’s voice comes, amused.

I open my eyes. He’s looking at me, but he doesn’t seem impressed.

My heart sinks. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” I ask, confused.

He shakes his head. “I told you, this is about your pleasure. What you want. You don’t have to fake anything with me.”

Cam rises to his feet and moves towards the closet, flinging open the door. My pulse kicks. What could be in there? A moment later he emerges with a crescent-shaped black box and sets it on the floor beside the bed. There’s a remote control in one of his hands and I’m burning with curiosity now, but I know better than to ask questions.

He lays on the bed beside me and runs a hand softly over my naked side. I shudder from the heat of his touch.

“Stand up,” he commands, pulling me slowly off the bed. I do as he says, still wondering what he has planned for me. . “I want the real you. I want to know how you come when you’re alone. When no one’s watching.”

His voice caresses me, his deep Scottish accent low and sexy as hell.

“Now sit.”

I settle onto the arched box, and as my thighs press against the sides, I feel a ridged texture underneath my freshly shaven pussy. My heart quickens.

“This is a Sybian machine. It vibrates for your pleasure, but I control the speed. I’m going to blindfold you and watch you ride it.”

A rush of anticipation swoops through me as he ties a soft cloth over my eyes and I feel the start of a slow vibration beneath me.

“Think about how it felt in the shower just now. My hands sliding over those pert breasts, how you got wet just feeling my touch.”

God, this is hot. He murmurs encouragement as I relax onto the vibrating box and stroke my nipples. Soft. Slow.

“Can you feel it?” Cam continues. “How hard your nipples are. How your skin puckers, begging to be touched?”

I slowly squeeze and roll my nipples into stiff peaks. A moan escapes my lips, and I hear an answering growl from Cam. So close, I can feel the heat from his body, smell his clean, fresh, masculine scent. The vibration gets more powerful between my thighs.

“Now, lower,” Cam orders. “Show me how you like it.”

My cheeks flush hot. My heart races as I obey his thrilling order.

And then I move both hands lower, gripping tight to the machine between my thighs, grinding my clit against the powerful throb of the soft silicone.

Yes.

I moan again, louder, loving the feel of the machine pulsing against me just right, right where I need it most. My clit is swollen, throbbing, and now I find my rhythm, circling my hips in swift, sure strokes.

I can feel myself losing control. It’s too much. “Cam,” I gasp.

I feel hands on my waist as Cam lifts me back onto the bed and away from the machine. He knew it was too intense. He pushes my thighs back. Baring me to him.

With the blindfold on, I can’t see what he’s about to do. All I know is, after riding the machine for him, I’m close. Too close. The tension in my body is tighter than it’s ever been.

He’s still holding my thighs apart, his breath hot against my exposed, damp skin.

He’s watching me. He’s seeing everything.

I can’t wait any longer.

But I don’t dare move.

“Isabelle.” I snap to attention. “Touch yourself.”

I slide my hand down to stroke at my soft, bare pussy. I arch up against my hand and slowly, push one finger into my wetness.

“Ohh.” The intensity of my groan shocks me. Reality rushes in and my hand freezes. What am I doing?

“Shhh.” Cam’s voice is calm. He covers my hand with his own. “Don’t stop, I’m right here.” He tugs off the blindfold and I see him kneeling between my legs.

I swallow hard, staring into his eyes. They’re fierce, burning with lust. Slowly, he moves his fingers against mine, guiding my hand back to my clit and wet, aching pussy.

“You like it slow, my sweet?” Cam murmurs in my ear. He guides my strokes, his large hand covering my own. Pressing my fingers deeper inside me. Pushing my palm to grind against my clit.

It feels incredible. I buck up against the pressure, already hurtling to the edge but wanting so much more.

“Tell me what you need,” Cam commands me.

I whimper, not able to speak the words aloud.

“Tell me,” he says again, and then his hand stops moving.

“You,” I moan desperately. “Please, Cam. I need you inside me.”

He answers by plunging two fingers deep into my slick pussy.

Fuck!

I thrust against him, out of my mind with the pleasure. He drives again, grinding his palm against my clit and curling his fingers, finger-fucking me with relentless precision. I cry out, writhing with need.

“Now come for me, Isabelle. Let it all go.”

His permission opens something inside me.

I cry out as the climax rips through me, the most intense orgasm of my life. It leaves me gasping in a haze of pleasure. When I finally turn my head and open my eyes, Cam is gazing down at me.

“Did you enjoy that?” he asks, stroking my cheek.

I nod. Enjoyment is an understatement.

“Good.” Cam smiles—but it’s a smile laced with something powerful that makes my stomach flip.

“That orgasm was my gift to you, Isabelle, and I promise, this is just the beginning.”

SIX: CAM

I walk out of the room before I take her right now, just pin those slim wrists to the bed and slam my cock into her slick cunt the way she begged.

“I need you inside me.”

Fuck, I deserve a medal right now. But my rules are sacrosanct. No sex with my subs until I have total control. And Isabelle is only just beginning her journey.

And beginning to test my willpower to the limits.

I climb the stairs to my atrium, looking to find some clarity and peace. The room is on the top floor of the townhouse, a glass-walled playroom with views of the city lights and carefully positioned greenery to shield my activities from watchful eyes.

I pour a drink and pace the small room, feeling like a caged beast.

Nothing about tonight is going like it should. I should be in charge—of my sub, the situation and my own emotions—but I’m not. I can’t stop the feelings of possessive emotion that rear up whenever I’m around this woman. I thought that entering into the agreement with her would help keep those feelings contained. Create a familiar framework that would stop me from losing control.

What was I thinking? Isabelle’s not like any other woman I’ve dominated before. Whether I want to admit it or not, she’s different, special.

The rules exist to protect us both; that’s why there’s a contract. And already, I’m breaking them. Usually, I keep myself totally detached from my sub’s history or life story and simply focus on giving her pleasure, but being with Isabelle tonight, watching her eyes darken with passion and excitement as she touched herself… All I wanted was to know more. Experience more. I want to get inside her, understand her, and discover every little thing that’s hidden behind her perfect façade.

I could tell myself it’s part of the game, but that would be a lie. This is way more than just my usual desire. It’s a restless hunger that won’t be satisfied.

I sip my scotch and think about what she shared with me tonight, the brief details of her tragic life. She acts to the world as if she’s just another beautiful, frivolous girl, but the truth is, she’s been through more than I could ever imagine.

Still, she’s hiding something from me. And I will discover it all. Stripping back her defenses one by one until she gives me everything. And I’ll give her in return, total freedom.

The anticipation curls through me like a drug. Isabelle will submit, and I will know it all. Every inch of her skin, every moan of pleasure. Every dark secret in her past.

Her surrender will be absolute.

SEVEN: ISABELLE

I wake the next morning back in the guest suite. After waiting for Cam in his bed for a half hour, I realized, the lesson was over. He runs so hot and cold, it’s hard to know what’s coming next, but that’s thrilling too. He’s unpredictable. Impossible to control.

I stretch lazily and yawn. I haven’t felt this good in years. The morning sun is pale through the windows, and the whole world feels brand new. I shiver with bliss at the memory of his hands on me. Inside me. Nobody has ever focused so completely giving me pleasure, or been so attuned to what I want and need.

But Cam was holding back, I could tell. His touch was maddeningly gentle, driving me out of my mind with need. I don’t want him to be careful. I want him to take me hard and fast, I want to feel him slamming into me with all the power I know is stored in that lean, muscular body.

I hope he will. And soon.

I hop out of bed and quickly freshen up. I pull on a silky, sexy robe and pad down the hall in search of the man himself.

“Cam?”

I enter the kitchen, expecting to find him there like every other morning so far. But the room is empty.

“Cam?” I call again, but there’s no reply.

He’s gone.

My heart cracks a little. I like our mornings together, talking over breakfast. It feels like a routine, like I belong here, but clearly, Cam doesn’t agree.

Then I see a vase of roses on the kitchen table, and a note with my name.

Isabelle,

You were beautiful last night. Thank you for sharing yourself with me. I look forward to tonight’s lesson.

Cam

I hug the note to my chest, beaming. I don’t know how I’m going to wait until tonight. I hear my phone ringing from the next room. It’s my friend Olivia.

“Oh, thank God!” she exclaims, sounding frazzled. “I forgot to pick up the cupcakes for later, could you stop by the bakery on your way?”

It takes me a moment to remember: today I’m supposed to meet with my friends to help organize an upcoming charity function. “Of course!” I exclaim, feeling guilty I’d forgotten. I was supposed to host, but Olivia has stepped in to help me out. “Just text me the details, I’m on my way.”

“You’re an angel!”

Olivia hangs up and I swing into action. Jeans and a casual T-shirt may be my preferred outfits when I’m lounging around the house, but if I’m going to take my usual place in the society clique, I need to be at the top of my game. I select a cream designer dress from the wardrobe Cam ordered me, and add hand-tooled Italian leather boots and a huge pair of sunglasses.

When I look in the mirror, I see my old self again. Isabelle Ashcroft, heiress and party girl. But it’s feeling more and more like a mask these days: hiding the true self I’m so scared to reveal.

What if Cam sees me for who I really am?

I feel a chill, but I shake off the thought. I head downstairs and hail a cab, stopping by Magnolia Bakery to pick up a box of cupcakes before arriving at Olivia’s apartment on the Upper East Side.

“Miss Ashcroft.” The doorman tips his cap as he holds open the heavy glass doors. I nod back, struck with how many doors that name has opened for me.

I didn’t lie to Cam last night, but I didn’t tell him the whole truth either. I glossed over my childhood, because I swore I was putting that life behind me, once and for all. From the day Ashcroft and his wife took me home with them, I was determined to belong in their wealthy, privileged world. I was young, but I learned everything I could about manners and etiquette, mimicking the people around me and researching online and in books until you’d never guess I grew up poor, eating boxed mac and cheese—on the good days.

They wouldn’t regret choosing me. They wouldn’t wish they could give me back.

Now, I’m a part of this world. Most of my friends don’t even know I was adopted, and those who do, barely remember. I’ve fooled them all with my performance, because it’s the one thing that keeps me safe from the shadows of my past.

“Hi!” Olivia greets me at the front door, looking breathless. “The others are early, they’re in the sun room. You look great!”

“Thanks again for playing hostess.” I step inside. The apartment is magnificent, a huge pre-war overlooking Central Park that’s been handed down in her family for generations. The tall ceilings and huge windows are highlighted with powder blue silk drapes, and priceless antiques are everywhere. Olivia keeps chatting as we head to the kitchen, where her housekeeper, Olga, is plating a perfect English tea on bone china plates.

“Here are the cupcakes.” Olivia opens the box and gives a peal of delight. “Don’t they look pretty?”

“It’s a good thing we won’t be eating any,” I note wryly. “Lulu and the others will just coo and then ignore them.”

I stop, realizing what I’ve said, but Olivia snorts with laughter. “You’re right,” she says. “We better have one now, before they see. I promise, I won’t tell,” she winks, holding out one of the tiny confections.

I take it and nibble at the sweet frosting, feeling like a naughty child. I’ve just taken a huge bite when Lulu waltzes in.

“Isabelle, darling. Calories!”

I reluctantly put it down as she smothers me with air kisses. Her sharp gaze looks me up and down. “Where have you been hiding? I haven’t seen you in forevs.”

“Oh, just around,” I say vaguely.

“You’re in the middle of a redecoration, right?” Olivia pipes up.

I stare blankly, until I remember: I told them I moved out of my apartment because I was overhauling the design. Not because I couldn’t spend another moment around Brent.

“That’s right!” I laugh. “God, these things take forever.”

“Who are you using?” Lulu demands. “I’m looking for someone to do my house upstate.”

“This Scottish guy,” I say, pulling the first thing that comes to mind. “He’s big in Europe. A very… precise, bold style.”

The girls look impressed. “You’re always ahead of the curve,” Olivia says enviously.

I smile. Little do they know. I try to picture Cam as an interior designer, picking out fabric swatches. It’s all wrong. His brawny physique and charisma are out of place enough in the business world, but I can’t imagine him dealing with women like Lulu all day. He’d probably put her over his knee and spank her.

Mmmm.

“Are we ready to get started?” Lulu interrupts my vision. “I have a mani-pedi at two.”

We assemble in the sun room, a pretty space decorated in soft, feminine silks. Nicole and Jessa are already there, with a couple of other women I know from the social scene: thin and glossy-haired, wearing immaculate designer outfits. Olivia pours the tea and passes tiny plates of finger sandwiches and cake. Sure enough, the other women compliment the pretty spread, but barely touch their food.

“So, the event is next week,” I begin, pulling out my day planner. “The casino theme seems to be a hit, and I already talked to a few journalists about covering the night. Vogue is coming.”

There’s a chorus of ‘oohs.’

“Olivia, you’ll handle promotions and ticket sales. Nicole, you’re in charge of decorating the venue and Lulu, you’re handling the catering, right?”

Lulu gives a smug grin. “My boyfriend’s restaurant is going to supply food and servers.”

“Maybe I better add catering to my list,” Nicole chirps brightly. “God knows, Lulu can’t hold onto a man! He’ll probably have dumped her by then. ”

The others laugh, and Lulu fakes a smile.

“Darling, I’m this close to a ring. I saw a Tiffany’s brochure on his desk the other day. I already put a hold on the Plaza.”

There’s an explosion of chatter about wedding dates and design themes. I catch Olivia’s eye across the room. We share an amused look. Sometimes I can’t believe that I’m part of this clique. Growing up, I never would have wanted to hang out with these people, much less call them my friends. We come from different worlds—but they’ll never know.

I clear my throat. “We’re so close to being done. Nicole, decorations?”

She rolls her eyes. “Relax, Iz, I’m using my designer, and the event space is all set. I don’t know why you’re taking this so seriously,” she adds. “It’s supposed to be fun!”

For them, maybe. Everyone else in the room is treating the fundraiser like an excuse to gossip, but it has a deeper meaning for me. We’re raising money for a charity that supports foster children—just like the girl I used to be.

Not everyone has an Ashcroft to whisk them off to a life of luxury. For millions of kids, the reality is harsh and bleak. I want to help them, however I can.

But I also know I need to maintain my cover. If any of these women knew my real motivation, they would lord it over me somehow.

“I know babe,” I give an easy smile. “But I heard Jacinta talking the other day, and she swore her Gatsby-themed party was the best of the year. How about we prove her wrong?”

Everyone hates Jacinta, who swears she’s related to British royalty, so the mention of her is enough to get them back on track. Soon the meeting is over, and we’re all saying our goodbyes.

“Thanks again for hosting,” I tell Olivia on my way out. “I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

“No problem.” Olivia glances around. Nobody’s within earshot. “Are you sure everything’s OK?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?” I snap.

She blinks. “No reason.”

I feel guilty. Olivia is the nicest girl of the group. She’s always tried to be a true friend, inviting me out for lunch, and confiding in me about her life. But her problems are whether her super-rich parents will get a divorce, or if her fiancé will sign the pre-nup in time. She would never understand what I’ve been going through, and I can’t risk her reaction if she finds out.

So no matter how much I want to spill the craziness of the past week, I hold back. “Let’s do something this week,” I offer as an apology. “Just the two of us.”

Olivia brightens. “That sounds great. Call me!”

I head downstairs, relieved that the meeting is over. I’m looking forward to getting back to Cam’s; it seems like every day, his home becomes more like a sanctuary to me. Someplace safe, where I don’t have to keep up the pretense of my perfect, glamorous life.

“Hey, sis.”

Brent’s voice makes me freeze. I whirl around, suddenly panicked. He’s waiting on the sidewalk for me with a smug, menacing grin.

I flinch back. “What are you doing here?” I gasp, my heart racing. Just seeing him brings all the bad memories flooding back, how I trusted him—and how he repaid me with cruelty and betrayal.

Brent strolls closer. “You didn’t change the password on your calendar.”

I stifle a groan of frustration. I thought I’d covered my tracks so well, but of course I forgot the one thing that would lead Brent directly to me.

I cross my arms and try to glare. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

“With your new boyfriend?” His smile turns angry. “Are you running off home to fuck him like the good little whore you are?”

His words cut me, but I try not to show my emotions.

“What I do is none of your business,” I answer coldly, raising my hand to signal for a cab.

Brent grabs my hand and yanks me closer. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit. You’re coming home with me right now.”

His eyes are steely, furious. I remember that there’s nothing Brent hates more than losing what he wants.

“I gave you your money,” I whisper, hating the fear that’s snaking cold in my blood. “It’s over. Please, leave me alone.”

Brent snorts. “You think ten grand is going to fix this? That’s bullshit. I know you’re sitting on millions in your trust fund—and that money should belong to me.”

My heart sinks. Ever since Brent got disinherited, he’s been obsessing over the wealth he always thought he’d get. I’ve been supporting the both of us all year, letting him stay in my apartment, paying his astronomical credit card bills.

“So how much will it take?” My throat feels dry, and I’m worried someone will hear him. Any minute now, Olivia or one of the others could come out and see us like this. I couldn’t bear it if they knew the truth.

“A hundred k, for starters.” Brent gives me a mean grin.

“That’s crazy!” I protest.

He darkens. “Think of it as payment—for my silence. Unless you want everyone knowing the truth.”

“You’re bluffing,” I tell him, hiding my fear.

Brent sneers. “Try me.” He pulls out his cellphone and dials. “Yeah, put me through to Cam McCullough’s office.”

Fear slices through me. “Brent, no!”

“I think it’s time me and your new man had a little chat about where you came from…and who you really are.” Brent looks so happy, it sickens me. My life, my future is on the line, and he’s relishing his power.

I can’t risk it. I don’t know what I would do if Cam discovered the truth.

“Fine,” I whisper, fighting back sobs. “I’ll give you the money. Whatever you want.”

“Good girl.” Brent reaches out and strokes my cheek before I can pull away, and the gesture makes me shudder with revulsion. “This isn’t over, sis,” he adds, threatening. “It will never be over. Not until I’m satisfied. Not until I have everything I want.”

A cab pulls up in front of us. I lurch away from him, and practically stumble into the car. “Please, just drive,” I beg, slamming the door behind me.

We pull away from the curb, leaving Brent there with that smug grin on his face.

I try to catch my breath. I’m shaking, my whole body in a panic. How much longer can this go on? What will Brent demand next in exchange for keeping my secrets?

What happens when I can’t stop him anymore, and he reveals the truth?

EIGHT: CAM

My apartment has always been a place of solitude: my sanctuary away from the high-pressure demands of running the company. But finding Isabelle waiting for me in the evening, curled up on the couch with her laptop and a glass of wine, it’s become a home.

She looks like she belongs here.

“What are you working on?”

Isabelle jumps. She’s miles away. But when she sees me, her face lights up.

“You’re back. I thought you might be working late again.” She comes up and gives me a kiss on the cheek. Then she catches herself, and looks anxious. “Sorry,” she mutters quietly. “Is that OK? I mean, am I allowed…?”

I soothe her with a smile. “You’re allowed. You should feel free to act normal around me, until I tell you different.”

She nods, as if she’s taking mental notes.

I put my briefcase down and loosen my tie. She’s still dressed in a designer outfit, looking polished and put together. “Did you have a good day?” I ask.

She nods. “I was working. I’m co-hosting a benefit for a foster youth organization,” she explains. “We’re holding a casino night with all the proceeds going to the charity.”

“That’s a great idea,” I nod. “Plenty of rich people with big egos looking to prove something at the tables.”

Isabelle smiles. “I’m counting on it. I’ve just been making some updates to the site.” She turns her screen around to face me.

The website is glossy and tasteful. “It looks great,” I say approvingly. “Did you create it?”

Isabelle flushes and shakes her head. “God, no, I can’t do something like this. I just told the technician how I wanted it to look.”

“You are a great designer,” I tell her gently. She does this so often, puts herself down. She doesn’t realize the talents she does have. “Were you with Olivia and the other girls?”

A shadow crosses her face. “Yes,” she says hurriedly.

I pause. Slowly, I sit down opposite her. Every move I make has to be strategic at this point. It doesn’t matter that I crave her body, and need her to be naked and spread for me already. I need to maintain our boundaries. My control.

“What else happened?” My voice is casual. I watch her response.

Isabelle looks away. “Nothing much.” Her tone is bright. “I wanted to get straight back and work on the website.”

“Isabelle.” My voice is a warning. Still, she refuses to meet my eyes. “Tell me.”

“I told you everything you need to know,” Isabelle snaps. “Is this a conversation or an interrogation?”

“Both,” I reply calmly. “I’m asking you a question. That means you tell me whatever I want to know.”

Isabelle stares back stubbornly. “And what if I don’t want to?”

“Then you’ll require a lesson in obedience.” I stand. This is unacceptable behavior from any sub. And if I let it go, she’ll never learn. I cross the room and stand over her.

“Get up.”

I see another flare of stubbornness in her eyes. I glare back.

Isabelle looks away first. She gets to her feet, still reluctant.

“Go upstairs,” I order her softly. “Take off your clothes, and get on your hands and knees over the bench. Wait for me there.”

I hear her breath hitch. Now, there’s desire in her gaze. “Yes, Master,” she breathes, clearly excited.

She practically scampers into the hall and up the stairs. I take a moment, watching her go. She thinks this will be fun for her, a sexy game, but it’s so much more. We’re only beginning her instruction, but she needs to understand that I’m serious. There is no place for disobedience.

My will is absolute.

I decide to take a shower and change, and leave her waiting for twenty minutes or more. The anticipation of pleasure or pain is a powerful tool, and by the time I slowly climb the stairs and push open the door, Isabelle is flushed with excitement, on her hands and knees as I required.

She’s taken off her clothes, but she’s not naked yet. She’s wearing lingerie and a pale pink silk slip. Gorgeous. Her full breasts swell under their lacey cages, her rounded ass inviting my cock.

I close the door and turn the lock. She jolts, breathless at the sound.

“Each time you defy my command, you will be punished,” I tell her sternly, pacing closer. “There’s no room for fear or disobedience in this relationship. Follow the rules, and I’ll reward you. Break them, and suffer the consequences. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Cam,” Isabelle whispers. One sharp look at her and she immediately corrects herself. “I mean, yes, Master.”

“Very good. Now, because you have been childish, I’m going to have to punish you like a child.”

I can see the anticipation on her face, the nervous mix of excitement and fear. I remind myself that she’s an innocent: she’s never had someone teach her like this before. Her only experience with pain was when Brent flogged her at the club, and that has nothing to do with her needs.

I need to show her the pleasure that can walk hand in hand with pain; introduce her to the delicious sting of sensation that only heightens her pleasure.

And remind her who’s boss.

I order her firmly. “Crawl to the bench and lift up your skirt.”

Isabelle quickly complies, hiking her slip up over her hips and exposing her creamy buttocks, divided by a lacy thong.

God, she’s a fucking goddess, every Dom’s fantasy brought to life. Innocent and stubborn, her body crying out for my hand.

I stroll over to the carved wooden rack where I keep my tools. I feel Isabelle’s eyes burning with curiosity as I stroke along their handles. “What should we use today?” I muse, knowing the delay will only add to her heightened state of anticipation. “A flogger? My riding crop? A whip?”

I hear her gasp in shock. I hide my smile. I would never break in a new sub by going straight for the extreme tools, but a little fear is healthy to teach her some respect.

“Or maybe not.” I put the toys down and turn back to her. “I don’t need any extra help to punish you. I’m more than capable of making you beg with just my own hands.”

Her pupils flare. She wets her lips, nervous, and the gesture goes straight to my cock. Damn. I want to own that mouth so badly, thrust into her wet, empty mouth until my cum is spurting hot down her throat.

Soon.

I stride back to the bench and lean over her, running one hand through her silky hair and down over her back. I rest it gently on the swell of her ass.

“Take hold of the bench,” I instruct her. “And under no circumstances are you to let go.”

She gulps, grabbing on to the specially-designed handles that extend down by the ground. Her thighs part, revealing the scrap of pink lace covering her mound. Now her body is braced and open to me.

I spank her hard and without warning.

Isabelle shrieks, jolting forward against the bench. Before she can recover, I spank her again, a series of short, sharp blows. She yelps every time my hand makes impact with the smooth skin of her ass, but I’m careful to vary where each slap falls, never hitting the same spot twice as I continue, relentless.

Two. Three. Four.

I can feel her body bracing against impact now, feel the tremble in her limbs.

“Please,” she gasps. “Cam!”

Five. Six. Seven.

She lets go of the bench and tries to scramble away. “No. Stay.” I fist her hair in one hand, yanking her back in place as I let the final blows rain down with perfect accuracy.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

I stop.

Isabelle collapses forwards, sobbing on the bench. I let her weep.

She’s not crying from the pain, just the shock of it. I was careful: I never apply more pressure than absolutely necessary, and although her ass is mottled red now from the impact of my hand, the marks will fade soon.

The lesson won’t.

I see every handprint like a victory mark. Power courses through me like a drug, but I don’t pause to savor it. She’s felt the pain of disobedience, only now she can learn the pleasure of submission.

“Good girl,” I murmur softly. I gently caress her back and ass, smoothing softly where I just struck hard. My fingertips whisper over her skin, soothing. “You’ve been such a good girl.”

Isabelle swallows back her tears. She lifts her face to me. “That hurt!”

I smirk. “It was supposed to.”

She clenches her jaw stubbornly. “So, was that it? My punishment?”

I stroke again, this time delving deeper between her thighs. Isabelle catches her breath. I tease over the damp silk there, nudging gently.

“What do you think?”

Isabelle pushes back against my hand. “That feels good,” she whispers.

“That’s because your body is in a heightened state of awareness,” I explain to her, stroking and smoothing, delving back to that wet pool of tension. “The pain shocks your nerve system wide awake, and makes every pleasurable touch feel that much sweeter.”

I nudge the silk aside, and skim my fingertip into her slick heat.

Fuck, she’s so wet.

Isabelle lets out a moan. “Please,” she gasps, clenching around my finger.

“Please what?” I ask, pulling back. I lift my finger to my lips and slowly lick it clean.

My cock swells, achingly hard. God, this is so much better than I imagined. Hearing her beg for me. Seeing the marks of victory branded on her flesh. Tasting her sweetness.

“More.” She wriggles her ass back, wanting me to touch her again.

“More pleasure, or more pain?” I counter. “You can’t have one without the other.”

There’s silence. I can feel the indecision in her body, the tension as she weighs my offer.

“More.” She says it again, and this time, there’s a note of raw need in her voice. “Please, Master. Whatever you want.”

She’s learning so fast.

I lean closer and murmur in her ear. “Let go, my sweet. I want to hear you scream for me. I want to hear you beg.”

I unleash another set of blows on that tender ass, and this time, I make them count. Sharp, hard, fast. Isabelle cries out with every slap, but I can hear her voice thicken with desire, until she’s gasping, lost in the frenzy of sensation.

“Cam!” she cries, gripping the bench tightly. “Oh God, please! Please!”

Her body jolts with impact, her flesh trembling. With no warning, I suddenly exchange hard for soft, brutal for sensuous: smoothing over the reddened skin and down between her thighs to stroke her swollen clit.

Her yelps turn to moans. She thrusts back, eager against my hand.

“There,” Isabelle gasps, as I circle the tender nub. “Oh god!”

I feel her body clench with pleasure. She spreads her thighs further apart, offering me more of her luscious cunt, grinding on my hand.

Fuck, it’s hot. Every one of her whimpers fuelling my fire. It’s powerful.

I yank her head back and spank her again, hard. The moans don’t stop, she’s still hurtling to the edge.

“Say my name,” I growl.

“Cam!” she cries.

“Wrong.” I spank her again and she shrieks at the impact. “Again!”

“Master!” she screams instead.

“Yes. Louder.”

“Master!” Isabelle cries, coming undone under my expert hands. The stubborn, headstrong woman is nowhere to be seen. This girl beneath me is pure need and gasping desire. She whimpers at my touch, bucking eagerly, taking every blow with new excitement. “Oh please, yes, yes! I’m close!”

My head is spinning, my cock so hard I can barely think straight. Fuck, she’s magnificent, begging for more. I can see the slick wetness of her arousal, feel how close her body is to the edge. I could shove those thighs apart and slam inside her with a single stroke, feel her convulse around my cock as I blow my load into that damp relentless heat.

I could lose control, and love every second of it.

“No.”

I snatch away from her, leaving her gasping for breath. I circle to the head of the bench, and place thumb and forefinger under her chin, forcing her to lift her head. Her eyes are wild, her body shaking.

“This is your punishment,” I tell her grimly. “You don’t get to come until I say so. Until you’ve earned it with your submission, and learned that I’m the one calling the shots.”

Isabelle gapes at me. “Please, Cam—”

“Pull up your panties,” I order her. “Clean yourself up. And don’t even think about touching yourself,” I add sternly. “Your release is mine, and mine alone. Do you understand?”

She gulps, but nods. There, that’s an improvement.

“See you at dinner,” I smirk, and walk out of the room—before she can realize just how far she pushed me, how close I came to losing control.

She’s not the only one who needs a lesson. I need to get it together if I have any hope of making this work.

NINE: ISABELLE

What the hell just happened?

My head spins as I slowly sit up and tug my slip down. My body feels like a live wire of sensations: the sharp sting on my ass, and the hot desire burning between my thighs.

What did he do to me?

I take a shaking breath, trying to pull myself together. I’ve never been so aware of my body—or so desperate for release. I feel exposed, left alone in this playroom while Cam goes and does who knows what.

I slowly get up, my legs weak, and head downstairs to my bedroom, closing the door behind me and collapsing down on the soft king bed.

God, that was incredible.

I can’t believe Cam bent me over and spanked me like an errant child. And I can’t believe how much I liked it. My body feels hyper-aroused, and I stretch out on the bed to cool down.

My clit throbs, needing Cam’s touch. His fingers, his tongue. I’m still so close…

My hands slide lower, remembering the shock of impact as he spanked me—and how the discomfort quickly melted into something more. A heady mix of pleasure and pain like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

Once my initial shock faded, I was surprised to find just how sensual the whole thing was. Cam is clearly an expert, and although the spanking hurt like hell in the moment, the pain quickly faded under his masterful hands.

I stroke over my belly and down between my thighs. I know he told me not to touch myself, but he wouldn’t ever know.

Right?

Still, something makes me stop. I want to obey him. I want to please him. I want to trust that he knows what he’s doing with me.

I roll over and groan into the pillows. I’m still frustrated as hell, so I go jump in the shower and let the cold water soothe my throbbing body.

It was tough up there for me. He ordered me to let go and trust him, but that isn’t easy for me. I’ve spent my life trying to keep control—and one amazing evening bent over a bench won’t change that.

However much I want it to.

I quickly dry off, thoughts whirling in my mind. I’d never admit it to anyone, but already there’s something in me that’s eager for Cam’s approval. I don’t know what that makes me, but I want to please him. To hear him murmur, “Good girl,” and reward me for my obedience. I don’t understand it, but it’s what I want.

If this is his game, it’s working.

* * *

I dress in some jeans and a silk T-shirt, and head downstairs. My stomach is already growling, and I can smell the tempting scent of garlic and orange sauce wafting from the kitchen.

Cam is unpacking takeout boxes on the table. “Have you been to the Imperial Garden over on 74th?” he asks casually. “The shrimp dumplings are killer.” He opens another box like nothing’s happened. “Grab a plate and help yourself. There’s plenty.”

I pause. I already broke my diet with that cupcake at Olivia’s, and the rich sauce on the noodles must have about a million calories.

“Is there any salad?” I ask, peeking in the containers in search of something that won’t take three hours on the treadmill to work off. I come up empty. “It’s OK, Chinese food isn’t really my thing,” I lie.

Cam gives me a sharp look. “All you do is eat salad and push food around your plate. Eat a proper dinner for once. You’ll need the energy,” he adds with a grin.

I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”

“Yes, you are,” Cam insists. He fills a plate with noodles, dumplings, and garlic chicken, then points to a chair at the table. “Sit. Eat.”

“Is that an order?” I shoot back, my temper flaring.

“Yes.”

I gape. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Are you questioning me?” Cam’s gaze turns steely.

Suddenly, I feel exhausted. Too tired to go six rounds over a plate of takeout. “Just give me a break, OK? Not everything has to be a fight.”

“I’m not doing this to pick a fight.” Cam’s tone softens. “It’s my job to take care of you—even when you don’t want to take care of yourself.”

I stare at him in disbelief. Is he for real?

“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing with my life?” I demand, my voice rising angrily. “Hours at the gym every day, counting every last calorie. Blowouts every week, highlights every month. I do nothing but take care of this body, and make sure it’s perfect every single second of every fucking day!”

Cam blinks, speechless for a moment.

I sink down into a chair. “I take care of myself,” I repeat grimly.

“No, you don’t.” Cam finally speaks. He gives me a sympathetic look. “You take care of what other people want from you. Maybe you don’t need to work so hard,” he adds. “You’d probably be a lot happier if you gave it all up.”

“Wow,” I roll my eyes. “You really don’t get it, do you? You wouldn’t think I was still so sexy if I started porking out on Chinese food all the time and totally let myself go.”

“Believe me, I would.” Cam gives me a wolfish look. “Now, my order still stands. You have my permission to let yourself go.”

I look at the food regretfully. “Great, the one night I get a pass, and you order Chinese.”

He frowns. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s not my favorite,” I shrug.

“So what would you eat, if you could have anything in the world?”

I pause. “I’d get a thick, juicy cheeseburger and fries. The works. With an icy cold beer to wash it all down.”

Cam looks surprised. “I would have figured you for more a caviar kind of girl.”

I snort. “That fancy stuff isn’t really my style. It’s easy to keep to a diet when you’re only served haute cuisine.” It took a couple of years after joining the Ashcrofts for my tastes to improve, to learn the difference between Velveeta and gruyere. The first time they served me a salad made by their personal chef, I didn’t recognize anything but the lettuce.

My stomach rumbles so loudly that Cam notices. He laughs. “Grab your coat. I know just the place to satisfy that craving of yours.”

I glance down at my jeans. “I should change first.”

“Don’t worry,” Cam grins. “None of your girlfriends is ever going to see you where we’re going.”

TEN: CAM

I’m breaking my number one rule here—and I don’t care. I never go out in public with my subs: our relationship is always hidden, contained in the safety of The Underground club or my apartment. But here I am, strolling down the street with Isabelle for anyone to see.

“Should we grab a taxi?” Isabelle looks around.

“No,” I tell her. “It’s just down the block.”

As we walk along the sidewalk, I can see her glance over at me, nervous. “What’s on your mind?” I ask.

“This is our first time out together since…you know. The contract,” she whispers. “How is this supposed to go? Do I have to do whatever you tell me, even if people are watching?”

“Relax,” I reassure her. “I’m not going to order you around tonight, but in general, the same rules still apply. You should still obey me, we’ll just be discreet.” I take her hand, and give it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll take care of everything. You relax.”

Isabelle exhales, relaxing. “OK, I can try.”

It’s cold out, but the streets are busy in my fashionable neighborhood: full of couples out for dinner, and people heading home after work.

None of them would ever guess the real relationship between Isabelle and me. To them, dominance and submission are the things of kinky sex clubs, whips and chains. They could never guess that I can show as much power walking down the street; that my dominance of Isabelle continues in every look, every touch, every word.

“Here we are.” I nod to the bar at the end of the block. It’s a little hole in the wall place, dim and grungy, but I know they serve the best burgers in the city. Isabelle wrinkles her nose, but she follows me down the steps and inside.

She looks around. “Why is everyone looking at us?” she whispers, drawing closer to me.

I smile. “They’re looking at you.” Even in jeans, she’s still the most beautiful girl in any room.

Isabelle flushes, looking embarrassed, so I lead her to a table in a dark corner. “Two pints please, Greg,” I call over to the burly British bartender. “And a couple of burgers, fries, the works.”

“Alright, boss.”

Isabelle looks interested. “This is your usual hangout? You could scrape the grease off the ceiling with a knife.”

I laugh. “Don’t let Greg hear you say that. He takes pride in his grease.”

She smiles and takes off her coat. “It’s strange to see you here,” she remarks. “I was beginning to think you lived at the office, or home. Or the club.” She blushes.

“I guess I deserve that,” I nod. “There hasn’t been much time in my life for anything but work.”

If you want to make it in the corporate world without a fancy Harvard MBA or Daddy on the board, you have to work harder than anyone. And me, a kid from the Scottish Highlands, I was determined to work harder than everyone.

Greg brings over our beers and food. Isabelle gapes at the spread: huge double decker slabs of ground sirloin with bacon, onions and cheddar, and a basket of crispy, thick fries.

“There’s enough here to feed an army! I can get through maybe half of that.”

“I’ll allow it,” I say, with a smile to let her know I’m joking. “But I bet you’ll finish the lot.”

We start eating, and soon she relaxes. “Oh my God,” she murmurs, taking a bite. “This is worth the hours on the treadmill I’m going to need tomorrow.”

My breath sticks. Fuck, she’s sexy, savoring every bite. Away from her snooty socialite crowd, she’s relaxed and carefree, gulping beer and wiping the foam from her lip with the back of her sleeve.

“So, tell me about yourself,” Isabelle asks hesitantly. “I hardly know much at all.”

I pause. “Like what?” I ask, dunking a fry in ketchup. Although, to me, they’ll always be chips.

“Well, the whole club thing.” Isabelle glances around, but we’re secluded in the corner here, with nobody to hear. “Have you always been into it? What happened to make you, you know…?”

“A Dom?” I finish. “Nothing happened. I’m not one of those guys working through some troubled past,” I add. “I just discovered that this was my particular preference, that’s all.”

Isabelle looks disappointed with my answer, so I expand. “Several years ago, I dated a woman who told me about working as a Dominatrix. She told me how she felt when she had a whip in her hand. Powerful. In charge. Something about it fascinated me, so I researched it more. I discovered pretty quickly that I had no interest in being dominated myself,” I add, “but it was the other side that drew me in. The balance of power, the psychological side of sex. It turned me on in a way I’d never felt before.”

Isabelle watches me, and bites her lip. “Why do you think you like so much? I mean, it’s pretty weird, isn’t it?” She flushes, and I can tell she’s trying to wrap her head around not just my tastes, but her own reaction earlier tonight.

“It’s not weird at all,” I say calmly. “Sex is about trust, intimacy. And giving up power to someone—or taking control of that power—is a natural extension of that trust. Our sexuality is more interesting and complex than we often give it credit for,” I add. “Why settle for something boring and rote, when you can discover who you really are?”

She toys with her beer for a second, thinking hard.

“It surprised me,” she admits. “Feeling the way I do. Not just tonight, but when Brent took me to the club. I was curious, I felt excited. At least, before…” she stops, then shakes her head, as if shaking the memory away. “I never expected to feel this way. Sex was never…” she stops again.

“Never what you needed,” I finish for her.

She nods, looking embarrassed.

“There’s no need to be ashamed,” I reassure her. “We’re all wired differently. Some people can spend their whole lives and be perfectly fulfilled by vanilla missionary every night. And others...we require something more particular to satisfy our needs.”

She takes a gulp of beer, looking away, then changes the subject. “What about my father?”

“I don’t think he shared my tastes,” I joke.

She laughs, breaking the tension. “Eww, no! I just meant, how did you guys get along? From the way you’ve talked about him, it seems like you were pretty close.”

I nod, smiling at the memory of my mentor. “He was a good man. Everyone respected him. He really made a point of showing people that he was listening, that he heard them. He gave you his full attention when you were with him, and that’s a rare quality.”

Isabelle gives a small smile. “I remember. Not that I got to see it very much,” she adds, sounding wistful. “You probably spent more time with him than I ever did.”

She’s joking but there’s an edge of sorrow behind her remark.

“You were family,” I reassure her. “He may have worked hard, but you were always his number one priority.”

She shakes her head. “It didn’t feel that way. After our mom died, he just buried himself in work. I guess it was his way of coping with the pain of losing her. But I was pretty much on my own again after that.” She pauses, years of sadness behind her eyes. “Except for Brent. He was all I had in the world. That’s why…” She looks away. “That’s why I let him treat me like this. I didn’t want to lose him too.”

I take her hand, full of compassion for her. Just when she thought she’d found a family, she lost it. No wonder she always acts so icy and self-sufficient. It’s the only way she can cope with her life.

Which makes her request to submit to me so much more intriguing—and precious.

“You have me now,” I tell her firmly. “And no one’s ever going to treat you that way again. You may not feel very strong right now, but you’re stronger than you’ll ever know.”

Isabelle gives a weak smile. “I don’t feel strong. I feel like a total mess most of the time.”

“You’re not,” I insist. “It takes a strong woman to admit that she wants to submit. To give up control of her body and her emotions and trust that they’ll be handled with care.”

She swallows. “Thank you, Cam. Not just for this, but for everything.”

“Always,” I say simply. And it’s true. This woman has gotten under my skin and wrapped herself around my heart. Whatever she needs from me, I’ll provide.

No matter what the cost.

ELEVEN: ISABELLE

We stroll back to his apartment, holding hands on the dark street. I feel a strange sense of security wrap around me, like as long as Cam is near, nothing bad can happen.

I glance over at him, his broad shoulders and chiseled jaw. There’s a comfort to his physical presence—and a danger, too. I already know the chemistry between us, and how he can affect me. Strip down my defenses, see past all my acting and pretense. Even just chatting in the bar tonight, I revealed more of myself than I have to anyone, confiding about my life as an Ashcroft, and how much it changed for me.

I want to open up to him. I want to let him in. But still, I’m scared. Out of my depth. This isn’t an ordinary relationship, and even though Cam reassured me it wasn’t strange to want the things that I do, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it myself.

How good it felt when he was spanking me. How much I want to submit and obey.

It thrills me and scares me at the same time, but something tells me that Cam won’t push me further than I’m ready to go.

When we get back to the apartment, Cam locks the front door behind us. “Goodnight, my sweet,” he murmurs, kissing me softly on the lips. “Sleep well. You’ll need your energy tomorrow.”

He winks, but I still feel a wave of disappointment. And when he leaves me to go to his bedroom, I wish he wouldn’t. That he’d stay.

I try to snap out of it, and go get ready for bed. I love the peace of my evening routine, and even when I was living with Brent, I liked to lock the bathroom door and take a moment, losing myself in the ritual of cleansing off my makeup and preparing for sleep. I brush out my hair, and smooth moisturizer over my skin, then gingerly check my ass in the mirror.

Cam’s handprints have faded. There’s no sign of our evening spanking—except the ripple of excitement that rolls through me every time I remember it.

I dress in a sheer lacy nightgown, then stop, looking at the big bed. Soft. Luxurious.

Empty.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I pad barefoot down the dark hallway and stop outside Cam’s door.

I knock, tentative. A moment later, Cam throws it open. “Yes?” he barks, looking annoyed.

I catch my breath. He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but black silk pajama bottoms. His body is so muscular, I can see the ridge of his abs, and the way his shoulders and biceps bulge with definition.

“I… I’m sorry,” I murmur, embarrassed. “I just…can I sleep with you tonight?”

I lift my eyes to his. They’re dark with an unreadable expression. Right away, I know I’ve made a mistake.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, turning to go.

“Wait.”

Cam’s hand shoots out and catches me by the arm. I go still from the heat of the contact. I turn. “Come in,” he says, dropping my arm and standing aside.

I take a deep breath, and follow his command.

The room is dim, lit only by a lamp beside the huge bed. I’ve been here before, but somehow, it feels more intimate with the drapes drawn and just the two of us in the dark.

Cam pulls back the covers, and slides into bed. He pats the space beside him. “I warn you,” he says with a dark look. “I’ve been known to snore.”

I burst out laughing, and just like that, the huge bed doesn’t seem so ominous. I go around the other side, and slide in. The sheets are cool and soft, and I can feel the heat from his body burning even from the other side of the king mattress.

“You’re lucky, I don’t.” I smile, but the teasing fades from my lips as Cam turns off the light and rolls over on his side towards me.

He reaches out and strokes gently down my jaw. I shiver. “Come here,” he murmurs, and pulls me to him, so I’m spooned against his body. His front to my back. His hard cock nestled against my ass.

Suddenly, sleep is the last thing on my mind.

“What’s the scent you’re wearing?” Cam asks, his voice a low whisper against my ear.

I relax back into his arms. “My body lotion, I guess. Roses.”

“Mmm,” Cam sweeps my hair aside and drops a kiss on the back of my neck. “You smell good enough to eat.”

Heat rushes between my thighs. Oh God. His hands slide around to my waist, teasing against the silky fabric. I sink deeper into the soft pillows, deeper against him. Cam groans softly, gripping my hips. I rub back against his cock, and feel his whole body tense.

“No,” he says. “Don’t move.”

I still.

“Whatever I do, don’t move,” he whispers, his request becoming an order. “Don’t move. Don’t make a sound, unless it’s to moan with pleasure.”

My heart skips a beat.

“Who are you in the dark?” Cam says again. His hands roam over my front, moving up to palm and stroke my breasts. I shudder, feeling the heat rise. God, it’s good. He squeezes softly, then pinches my nipples until I moan.

“Who are you when nobody’s watching?” he demands, growling in my ear. “Away from all the bullshit and pressure. Who are you when you’re coming undone?”

He nips gently at my neck, fitting me snugly against him. There’s not an inch of space between our bodies, I can feel every breath, every heartbeat, every jerk of his stiff cock against my ass.

I close my eyes and fall into the darkness. Cam’s hand trails down over my belly, down between my thighs. He rubs softly, just right.

I gasp.

“That’s right, my sweet. Let go for me.”

His weight shifts, then suddenly he’s gone: rolling me onto my back and pulling the covers down, kissing his way between my thighs.

I tense.

“Shh,” he soothes me. “I’m going to make this very simple for you. You can make all the noise you want. Scream and writhe, do whatever you need. But you cannot come, Isabelle. You can’t come until I say.”

Fuck, that’s hot.

“Tell me you understand.”

“Yes, Master,” I breathe. Already my body is so tense and turned on, I don’t know if I can keep my promise.

But I’ll sure as hell try my best.

Cam lowers his head again. His stubble scratches against my skin as he eases my legs open, baring me wide. I can feel my cheeks heat, but somehow, I’m safe here. Safe in the dark with Cam trailing kisses, licking and nipping at my inner thighs until, God, his tongue licks up against me in a hot, wet swoop.

I groan, gripping the pillows tight. Cam licks again, swirling his tongue over my tender nub until I’m panting. “Oh God,” I gasp, arching up to meet his mouth. This is incredible. My body clenches, my pussy aching for his touch.

He pulls away then, and I cry out at his sudden absence. The pressure is building inside me, coiling tighter, and I moan, trying not to beg, knowing that Cam is the one who’ll make all the demands.

“Goddamn,” he growls, moving a hand to stroke and dip into my wetness. “You taste so sweet.”

He slides two fingers inside me.

Fuck, now I really am close. I clench around him, bucking up against his hand. “Cam!” I cry, gripping the pillows. “Cam, I don’t know if I can stop—”

“You can, and you will.” Cam’s voice is a warning. He slides his fingers out of me, then back, deeper. Fuck!

“Not like this.” I shake my head, thrashing against him. He pins me down with his other hand, so I’m helpless on the bed. Out, then back, a slow deep slide that makes my blood boil. “I’ll come, I can’t stop.”

“Shh,” he whispers again. “Breathe deep. Let it wash over you.”

He lowers his head and licks me again. Dear Lord, I don’t know how much more I can take. Every nerve in my body is wild with tension, begging for release. He licks me slowly, gently pumping his fingers inside me, until I can feel my body start to crest.

“Cam!” I reach down and grab his head, pulling him away. For a moment, I’m caught on the precipice, ready to fall, but I inhale another ragged breath and clench my body tight, trying to keep the orgasm at bay.

Slowly, the waves recede. I exhale, reeling and unsatisfied. God, I need to come so bad! But even through my frustration, there’s pride. I’m pleased I managed to follow his orders, to do what he wanted, even when it drove me crazy.

Cam crawls back up my body, and lays beside me, face to face. “Why did you stop me?” he asks.

“Because you told me not to come.” I can see his face, just inches away, eyes burning hotly in the dark. “You gave me an order.”

“And you obeyed me.” I can hear the satisfaction in his tone. “That’s what I wanted, Isabelle. Not to deny you your pleasure for the sake of it, but for you to learn obedience. And you did it beautifully, I’m so proud.”

I feel a glow. “I’m glad,” I whisper. “I want to please you.”

“And you will.” Cam strokes my cheek. “Now, you get a reward. Anything you want.”

“Anything?” My heart leaps.

“Yes.” Cam skims his fingertips over my breasts again, making them ache, heavy with need. “So tell me, Isabelle, what’s your pleasure?”

“You,” I breathe, already reaching for him. “I want you. Inside me. Please.”

My hands slip inside his pajamas and close around Cam’s magnificent cock. His pupils dilate. He lets out a low groan. I stroke him again, and then he grabs my hand.

“Not tonight.” He pulls me away. “But you’ve earned your release, my sweet.” Cam slides his hand between my thighs and thrusts two fingers inside me. He kisses down my body, back to my wet pussy.

Fuck.

Slowly, he licks up my slit, circling and sucking on my clit. He laps up against me, the pressure building with every flick of his tongue. I moan. He opens my lips, licking the soft folds, while sticking his fingers deep inside me. He curls them even deeper, and again sucks my clit.

He looks up at me, his gaze tender yet animalistic. “Now come for me,” he orders, kissing me with a fierce possession. He thrusts again.

I come, moaning his name over and over and over. Cam pulses his fingers again and again, riding out my orgasm.

He spoons me against him again, holding me tight. And to my surprise, I fall asleep.

TWELVE: CAM

The next day is torture. I try to work at the office as usual, but my head is miles away: back in the dark bedroom, gorging on Isabelle’s sweet cunt. God, the look on her face as she desperately tried to keep from coming. She worked so hard to please me, and she couldn’t have done better.

My little sub is learning, every day.

“So what’s her name?”

I snap my head up. Keely is in my doorway, watching me with a smirk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I cough, shuffling some paperwork like I wasn’t just fantasizing about impaling Isabelle on my aching cock.

“Bullshit,” she grins, throwing herself down in one of my comfy arm chairs. “You’ve been a million miles away all day. You were so zoned out during that marketing call, he could have proposed a million dollar budget increase and you wouldn’t have noticed a thing.”

“They’re welcome to a million if it gets our revenue up,” I shoot back. “Maybe I was just bored by their proposals.”

She laughs, not at all fooled. “Come on, spill. You know I love some gossip. And you never have any.” She narrows her eyes. “Huh, I didn’t realize that before now. You’re so…”

“Discreet?”

“Boring.” She sticks her tongue out, and I laugh. Since Keely took control of the company, she’s become a good friend of mine. Closer to a little sister really—and right now, she’s an annoying one.

“She has to be special, to get you so distracted,” Keely muses. “Don’t tell me you’re seeing some model or actress. They’re not your type.”

“What’s my type?” I ask, amused.

“Someone complicated,” Keely decides. “You need someone to keep you on your toes. Not some girl who follows your every word like law.”

I hide a smile. Little does she know.

“Don’t you have work to do?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

She sighs. “Always. And there’s that charity thing tonight, the casino event? Isabelle’s hosting. I can’t believe she sent me an invite, I thought she hated me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” I say without thinking.

Keely arches an eyebrow.

“I mean, who could hate you?” I cover. “You’re delightful. When you’re not bugging people about their personal lives.”

She laughs, finally standing. “OK, OK, you’re off the hook. But only because Vaughn is taking me out to lunch,” she adds. “And that means I’m in a great mood.” Keely swans out, no doubt off to meet her fiancé for some sexy fun.

I pause. Keely’s right: I am distracted. I feel like I’ve had a hard-on for days, and it’s all I can think about. Isabelle, submitting to me, the sound of her moans

My hand moves of its own accord, reaching for the phone. I’m dialing the number before I can second-guess what I’m about to do.

“Isabelle?” I say when she answers. “Get in a cab, right now.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock at the door. Jeannie opens it. “Miss Ashcroft to see you.”

I nod brusquely, staying seated. “Show her in. And hold my calls for the rest of the afternoon.”

Jeannie nods, withdrawing. Isabelle steps into the room, radiant in a simple sundress that shows off the swell of her creamy breasts. She’s smiling. “I’m glad you called,” she says. “Did you want to go grab some lunch?”

“That’s not what I have in mind. Lock the door behind you,” I tell her softly.

Her eyes widen with excitement. She does as I say. Power ripples through my body. Finally, it’s time to show her what I want.

“Come here, and get on your knees.”

Isabelle’s gaze flickers towards the door. “Here?”

I can hear the shock in her voice. “Yes. Here, now. It doesn’t matter if we’re in the middle of Times Square, at the club or in my home, when I give you an order, I expect you to obey. Understood?”

Isabelle nods, places her purse on a chair and walks closer. I point to the rug beside me. Silently, she drops to her knees.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous. Gazing up at me with those blue eyes. Meek and obedient.

“Put your hands behind your back,” I instruct her. “Now open your mouth.”

Isabelle wets her lips, then parts them, pink and moist.

My cock leaps hungrily, straining against my fly.

“This is the sub’s position,” I tell her. “When I tell you to assume the position, this is what I mean. No argument, no hesitation.”

Isabelle nods eagerly. Eyeing my pants, she licks her lips again.

I won’t make her wait any longer.

I unbuckle my belt and unzip my fly. The head of my cock springs free, already swollen and moist with precum. I lean back in my chair and tuck my hands behind my head in a pose of total nonchalance.

“Now, show me what that pretty mouth can do. Just your mouth.” I add.

I can see the anticipation in Isabelle’s eyes as she leans forward, hands locked behind her back. Her warm breath envelops me and I have to resist thrusting deep between those wet lips.

Slowly, slowly now.

Isabelle opens her mouth wider. She laps slowly at the head, then closes her lips around me and swirls her tongue around.

Fuck. A guttural groan escapes me. Her tongue strokes the underside of my cock, pressing on that ultra-sensitive spot beneath the head. I have to grip the armrests to keep from exploding right now.

“Now suck me,” I command.

She scoots closer, angling to take me deeper into that miraculous mouth. She slides down my cock, taking me to the back of her throat, then lifts her head again, suctioning tight with her lips.

Goddamn.

I lean back in the chair, reveling in the hot, wet slide of her mouth. My cock is so hard it hurts, and every lick and suck drives me crazy.

Isabelle looks up at me, her mouth around my dick. A strap of her sundress slips loose, revealing the taut rosy tip of her nipple. Her tongue flickers rapidly, licking up my salty pre-cum.

It’s so fucking sexy, I can’t take it. I’m too close to the edge, too soon. I grab a fistful of silky blonde hair and tug her head, fighting the urge to spurt my hot seed all over her gorgeous face.

But Isabelle won’t be stopped. Her head bobs in my lap and her juicy pink lips slide over my glistening shaft, sucking me off deep in her throat. She gazes up at me, urging me on with every stroke, moaning softly as she sucks.

Fuck it, I’m already gone. The climax rips through me, flooding me with pleasure as I grip her head, pumping into Isabelle’s warm throat.

She swallows down every last drop, and licks me clean. Fuck, could she be any more perfect? Finally, she lifts her head.

“Was that OK, Master?” she asks.

I nod. “Try un-fucking-believable.”

She smiles with pleasure. “Good.”

And then instead of getting up, she rests her head in my lap. I exhale, stroking her hair as my climax fades away. I’m the one supposed to be in control here, but every moment with her shifts my center of gravity until I don’t even know who’s calling the shots.

I just know, I don’t want this to end.

THIRTEEN: ISABELLE

The casino charity night arrives out of nowhere: I’ve been so wrapped up in Cam, I don’t have time for my usual nerves about whether the event will go OK. There’s barely time to call my committee and check in before I’m sitting in the back of a limo with Cam, trying to remember if there’s anything I’m forgetting.

“I should call the caterers again,” I fidget nervously. “And I should have been there this afternoon for set-up. I can’t believe I missed it. If anything was wrong—”

“They would have called you,” Cam interrupts me, soothing. “Or, better yet, they would have solved the problem themselves. This is why you hired professionals,” he adds. “You don’t need to be there to fold every napkin.”

“I know.” I can’t stop worrying—at least until Cam takes my hand, bringing it to his mouth. He kisses my palm.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” he smiles at me.

I feel a glow. “Thank you.” I agonized over what to wear before picking out a long gown in pale blue silk. I hoped that he’d like it, and from the way his eyes are skimming over the plunging neckline all the way down to the thigh-high slit, I’ve got my wish.

“But it’s missing something…” Cam muses, pulling something from his jacket pocket. A slim blue box. Tiffany’s. I gasp. “A little something for you. To celebrate our arrangement.”

I open the lid. A pair of glittering, diamond-studded bracelets twinkle up at me from the satin lining. “Oh my God,” I breathe. “Cam, these are gorgeous!”

He lifts them from the box and fastens them around my wrists: a matching pair of jeweled cuffs. I run my fingers over the metal, pausing over gold loops that are fixed to each cuff. “What are these for?”

“All kinds of things.” Cam’s voice turns throaty. He leans in, nipping at my earlobe. “I’ll show you later.

A shiver runs through me. I can’t wait to find out.

“I love them,” I tell him happily. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, princess.” Cam claims my lips in a lingering kiss that sends heat racing through my body. I’m already wet for him, wanting his muscular body crushing mine, his hips pistoning fast, cock buried deep inside my slick, wet pussy. “Now, are you ready for your night?”

I take a breath and clasp his hand. “I am now.” I think of the crowd waiting for us, all the sneering, judging faces. “Just don’t let go, OK?”

“I promise.” Cam vows.

* * *

When we arrive at the hotel ballroom, everything’s already in full swing. The chandeliers glitter over New York’s social elite, mingling and chatting by the casino tables. Dealers lead games of roulette and blackjack as the band plays in the corner, and wait staff circulate with hors d’oeuvres and champagne.

“Looking good,” Cam applauds, as we make our way into the crowd.

“So far.” I’m still on edge, nervous something will go wrong. To everyone else, this is just another excuse to get in the gossip pages, but I really care about raising money here tonight, and I want everything to be flawless.

“Izzie!”

We turn. Olivia is cutting through the crowd. She greets me with a kiss, beaming. “Isn’t this great? The pit master says we’ve already raised fifty thousand dollars.”

“So soon?” I smile, happy and relieved. “But the evening’s barely started.”

“I know! Apparently some tech billionaire bet everything on red, and it came up black. I’ve told the waiters to keep him supplied with champagne,” Olivia adds with a wink.

I laugh. “Clever.” Olivia gives me a look, and I realize Cam is standing beside me, silent. “Oh, this is Cam. Cam McCullough. Meet my friend, Olivia.”

Cam shakes her hand. “Any friend of Isabelle’s is a friend of mine. Now, can I get you ladies something to drink?”

“Thanks.” Olivia waits until he’s gone before giggling. “Iz! Where have you been hiding him?”

“Why? What do you mean?” I flush, suddenly self-conscious. My two worlds are colliding here tonight.

“Just that he’s hot!” Olivia squeals. “Wait, is he that Scottish designer you were talking about?”

“No, different guy,” I say quickly. “Cam works at the company. Runs it, really. He was friends with my father.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.” Olivia links her arm through mine. “Come see the girls. They’re all basking in praise for pulling this off, but we all know it’s down to you. You did a great job.”

I say my hellos and catch up with everyone, reminding them all to gamble and fill those fundraising coffers. “It’s for a good cause,” I joke to a group. “And when was the last time you could say that about losing your shirt at roulette?”

They all laugh. Cam joins me with a glass of champagne, steering me away from the crowd. “You should be proud of yourself for tonight,” he tells me. “This is a big deal.”

I flush at his praise. “I just know I got lucky, being adopted. So many kids don’t have that chance. This is the least I can do to help them.”

Cam squeezes my hand. “You’re a good person, Isabelle.”

Guilt strikes through me. He has no idea.

“I just want to run and thank the caterers,” I say quickly, needing some air. “I’ll be right back.”

I hurry through the crowded ballroom, and down a hallway. It’s quieter here, and I catch my breath, trying to push back the memories. Tonight is a good thing, but suddenly, I feel like such an imposter. Cam doesn’t realize, what I’m trying so hard to keep hidden. He doesn’t see my dark past, or know what I’ve done to get to where I am today.

“Well, well, well. Look at you.”

The voice sends chills down my spine. No. Not here.

Brent strolls closer, looking smug as usual.

I tense. “Don’t tell me you burned through that money already.”

He snorts. “Not quite.”

But I see the anger in his eyes. Damn it. I glance around, but luckily, we’re out of sight, hidden here in the hallway.

I straighten up and face him. “Get out of my way.”

“Not so fast, sister. We’re not done.”

“I’m busy.” I try to seem bored.

“With him,” Brent says scornfully. “That low-rent bastard. He’s got no fucking class.”

“And you do?” I shoot back.

It’s a mistake. His face darkens. “You liked me just fine, sis. All those years I came to visit your bedroom at night.” He moves closer, backing me against the wall. “You didn’t complain then, did you? You loved it, you little slut.”

“Stop!” I shove him hard, wriggling out from the alcove. “I won’t keep doing this. It’s over, I’ve told you before.”

“And I’ve told you, it’ll never be over. You’re mine,” he sneers. “You think your white knight will have you once he knows you’re damaged goods? Face it. Once trash, always trash. You should feel lucky I’d even look twice at you.”

I swallow, shaking with rage and panic. There’s a time I would have believed him, but being with Cam has taught me differently. Brent made me weak, but Cam gives me the strength to believe in myself. Believe I’m worth so much more than what I’ve been settling for.

“You don’t own me, Brent. In fact, you’re nothing without me.” With a final burst of angry strength, I wrench my arm from his grasp and try to walk away.

“Do you really want to risk it, killer?”

I freeze. Fear surrounds me, sharp and cold.

Brent strolls closer, placing a possessive hand on my waist. “That’s right, Iz. I know your secret, and believe me, I won’t think twice about telling everyone in that ballroom what you’ve done. You think Cam will want you then?”

Oh God. I can imagine the look on his face. The revulsion. The blame.

“Come along now.” Brent begins to steer me back to the party. “We’re leaving now. You and me. I’ve had enough of this bullshit. You’re coming home with me, where you belong.”

I try to pull away. “Fine,” I stutter, buying time. “I’ll meet you there. I just have to—”

“No.” Brent scowls.” I want everyone to see you on my arm. Especially your precious Cam McCullough.”

I have no choice.

Brent steers me back toward the music and twinkling lights of the party.

My heart breaks in two.

FOURTEEN: CAM

I look around, bored, trying to seem engaged with the uptight businessmen around me. The party is in full swing, but without Isabelle at my side, everything is a dull blur.

I need her too much, but I can’t help it. She makes everything vivid and new, like I’m seeing the world for the first time.

And there she is.

I catch sight of her moving towards me. Even in the crowd of hundreds, she stands out. Gorgeous.

But her face is tense. Then I see the man beside her. Brent. His arm around her waist, his body tight against hers.

What the hell?

Something’s wrong.

I try to move away from the CEOs and VPs all around me, but before I can break free, one grasps my arm and asks how Ashcroft’s fiscal quarter is looking. I mumble a reply and pull away, lunging towards Isabelle and Brent.

“You better get the hell away from her,” I growl at Brent, the fact that we’re in the middle of a crowded ballroom the only thing keeping me from punching his face in. “Get out!”

“Cam, don’t!” Isabelle steps between us. “Calm down, you’re making a scene!”

“What’s he doing here?” I demand. “Why are you defending him?”

Isabelle’s chin trembles. “Please, Cam,” she says again, not answering my question. “People are looking.”

“To hell with people.”

But Isabelle looks around us. She flashes a tense smile, acting like everything’s fine. It’s not.

“Let’s go,” Brent barks. He holds out his hand, and actually has the nerve to snap his fingers at her.

Isabelle won’t look at me. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. Then she turns to leave.

With him.

“What’s going on?” I demand. “Tell me, now. That’s an order,” I add.

But Isabelle doesn’t obey. She finally meets my eyes, her expression blank. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she says politely. “But I belong at home.”

“No.” I growl in frustration. “I’m not letting you leave like this.”

“Tough shit,” Brent smirks. “That’s not your decision. It’s mine.”

“No,” Isabelle speaks up calmly, “It’s mine. And I’m choosing to go with him.”

“Part of our contract is for me to keep you safe. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Isabelle lowers her voice. “No, Cam. You were right. Your world, it’s not for me. The truth is…” she wavers, but then her face sets with determination. “It’s sick. You disgust me, you and your games. I want no part of it.”

.I watch as she takes Brent’s arm and walks away. I feel like my whole world is walking out that door, and I can’t understand why. I can hear whispers around us and I can’t be responsible for ruining her event. Not when it means so much to her.

I know she’s lying, but why? I’m not going to embarrass her in front of all these people and demand she stay, but something’s got her running scared, and I’m determined to find out what it is. Our connection is real. The way she felt, moaning in my arms, that’s real, and she needs me. Whatever hold Brent has over her, I’ll find a way to break it. I’ll release her from his chains and set her free, where she belongs.

With me.

THE END

What happens next? Cam and Isabelle’s
story continues in TOTAL SUBMISSION—
out January 12th.

Thank you so much as ever for reading and your incredible, passionate support. It makes me want to write more books!

For exclusive giveaways, and secrets
of the series sign-up for my newsletter:
eepurl.com/S-rWz

Come find me on facebook:
facebook.com/roxysloaneauthor

Let’s tweet:
twitter.com/Roxy_Sloane

NOW OUT, THE COMPLETE SERIES:
THE INVITATION

"A woman's orgasm is an art. It takes finesse. And I'm the world-class master of making women come."

Hot, English businessman Ashton made a pact not to screw up his friendship with Justine 'JJ' Jenkins over a cheap one-night stand. Now, two years later, he's going out of his mind with wanting her -- but she's still off-limits. Now school is over, and his control is wearing thin. They've got one last night together, and he's determined to make it an experience she'll never forget.

The one girl he swore off is going to have the night of her life. And with a sexy game of dare on the table, it won't take long...

THE INVITATION

THE INVITATION 2

THE INVITATION 3

ALSO BY ROXY SLOANE:
THE SEDUCTION

All women look the same on their knees with their lips wrapped around my cock.

You like to think you're different, special somehow. But trust me, I'll have you wet and begging for it before you can think of all those bullshit, good girl reasons why not.

I'm your darkest secret. Your dirtiest fantasy.

Who am I?

The Seducer.

And I've never lost a case.

Until her. Keely Fawes. My mysterious new target.

Someone wants to destroy her -- and I'm their weapon of choice.

Her secrets could be my undoing. Her innocence will ruin me.

But I don't care.

I'm going to show her how fucking good it feels to be bad. She'll come screaming my name if it's the last thing I do.

THE SEDUCTION

THE SEDUCTION 2

THE SEDUCTION 3

THE SEDUCTION 4