Their Virgin Secretary, Page 42

  much about the real her had he pieced together?

  The thought made her panic. No one could know her secret. No one. She’d kept it from everyone, even Thorpe, during her four years at Dominion. She’d finally found a place where she felt safe, comfortable. Of course she’d have to give it up someday, probably soon. She always did. But please, not yet.

  Deep breath. Don’t panic. Sean wants your submission, not your secrets.

  “You’ll need to do better than try. You’ve been ‘trying’ for over six months,” he reminded her gently. “Do you think I’d truly hurt you?”

  No. Sean didn’t seem to have a violent bone in his body. He wasn’t a sadist. He never gripped her harshly. He never even raised his voice. She’d jokingly thought of him as the sub whisperer because he pushed her boundaries with a gentleness she found both irresistible and insidious. Certainly, he’d dragged far more out of her than any other man had. Tirelessly, he’d worked to earn her trust. Callie felt terrible that she could never give it, not when doing so could be fatal.

  Guilt battered her. She should stop wasting his time.

  “I know you wouldn’t,” she assured, blinking up at him, willing him to understand.

  “Of course not.” He pressed his chest over hers, leaning closer to delve into her eyes.

  Callie couldn’t resist lowering her lids, shutting out the rest of the world. Even knowing she shouldn’t, she sank into the soft reassurance of his kiss. Each brush of his lips over hers soothed and aroused. Every time he touched her, her heart raced. Her skin grew tight. Her nipples hardened. Her pussy moistened and swelled. Her heart ached. Sean Kirkpatrick would be so easy to love.

  As his fingers filtered into her hair, cradling her scalp, she exhaled and melted into his kiss—just for a sweet moment. It was the only one she could afford.

  A fierce yearning filled her. She longed for him to peel off his clothes, kiss her with that determination she oft en saw stamped into his eyes, and take her with the single-minded fervor she knew he was capable of. But in the months since he’d collared her, he’d done nothing more than stroke her body, tease her, and grant her orgasms when he thought she’d earned them. She hadn’t let him fully restrain her. And he hadn’t yet taken her to bed.

  Not knowing the feel of him deep inside her, of waiting and wanting until her body throbbed relentlessly, was making her buckets full of crazy.

  After another skillful brush of his lips, Sean ended the kiss and lifted his head, breathing hard. She clung, not ready to let him go. How had he gotten under her skin so quickly? His tenderness filled her veins like a drug. The way he had addicted Callie terrified her.

  “I want you. Sean, please . . .” She damn near wept.

  With a broad hand, he swept the stray hair from her face. Regret softened his blue eyes before he ever said a word. “If you’re not ready to trust me as your Dom, do you think you’re ready for me as a lover? I want you completely open to me before we take that step. All you have to do is trust me, lovely.”

  Callie slammed her eyes shut. This was so fucking pointless. She wanted to trust Sean, yearned to give him everything—devotion, honesty, faith. Her past ensured that she’d never give any of those to anyone. But he had feelings for her. About that, she had no doubt. They’d grown just as hers had, unexpectedly, over time, a fledgling limb morphing into a sturdy vine that eventually created a bud just waiting to blossom . . . or die.

  She knew which. They could never have more than this faltering Dom/sub relationship, destined to perish in a premature winter.

  She should never have accepted his collar, not when she should be trying to keep her distance from everyone. The responsible choice now would be to call her safe word, walk out, quit him. Release them both from this hell. Never look back.

  For the first time in nearly a decade, Callie worried that she might not have the strength to say good-bye.

  What was wrong with her tonight? She was too emotional. She needed to pull up her big-girl panties and snap on her bratty attitude, pretend that nothing mattered. It was how she’d coped for years. But she couldn’t seem to manage that with Sean.

  “You’re up in your head, instead of here with me,” he gently rebuked her.

  Another dose of guilt blistered her. “Sorry, Sir.”

  Sean sighed heavily, stood straight, then held out his hand to her. “Come with me.”

  Callie winced. If he intended to stop the scene, that could only mean he wanted to talk. These sessions where he tried to dig through her psyche became more painful than the sexless nights she spent in unfulfilled longing under his sensual torture.

  Swallowing down her frustration, she dredged up her courage, then put her hand in his.

  Holding her in a steady grip, Sean led her to the far side of Dominion’s dungeon, to a bench in a shadowed corner. As soon as she could see the rest of the room, Callie felt eyes on her, searing her skin. With a nonchalant glance, she looked at the others scening around them, but they seemed lost in their own world of pleasure, pain, groans, sweat, and need. A lingering sweep of the room revealed another sight that had the power to drop her to her knees. Thorpe in the shadows. Staring. At her with Sean. His expression wasn’t one of disapproval exactly . . . but he wasn’t pleased.

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  Dungeon Games

  Masters and Mercenaries, Book 6.5

  By Lexi Blake

  Coming May 13, 2014!

  Click here to purchase.

  Obsessed

  Derek Brighton has become one of Dallas’s finest detectives through a combination of discipline and obsession. Once he has a target in his sights, nothing can stop him. When he isn’t solving homicides, he applies the same intensity to his playtime at Sanctum, a secretive BDSM club. Unfortunately, no amount of beautiful submissives can fill the hole that one woman left in his heart.

  Unhinged

  Karina Mills has a reputation for being reckless, and her clients appreciate her results. As a private investigator, she pursues her cases with nothing holding her back. In her personal life, Karina yearns for something different. Playing at Sanctum has been a safe way to find peace, but the one Dom who could truly master her heart is out of reach.

  Enflamed

  On the hunt for a killer, Derek enters a shadowy underworld only to find the woman he aches for is working the same case. Karina is searching for a missing girl and won’t stop until she finds her. To get close to their prime suspect, they need to pose as a couple. But as their operation goes under the covers, unlikely partners become passionate lovers while the killer prepares to strike.

  * * * *

  “I’m going to open the door now.” She couldn’t just sit there when he obviously needed affection.

  She heard him shuffling, moving even as she opened the door. And then he was there, his muscular body seeming to shrink in on itself.

  “You can’t be around me when I’m like that, Karina. I could have hurt you.”

  She followed her instincts now and walked right up to him. He didn’t move as she folded her arms around him, tucking her head under his chin. “I wasn’t going to let you hurt me, Derek. I had a plan.”

  It took him a couple of seconds, but his arms wrapped around her, squeezing her tight. His big palm came over her head in a protective gesture that warmed her. “What was your plan?”

  It felt so good to be in his arms. The man knew how to hug. He enveloped her, surrounded her. She couldn’t help but cuddle closer. “I kissed you because I figured the dream was from your Army days. I’d tried to talk you awake, but I figured you probably hadn’t kissed your Army buddy a whole lot.”

  He chuckled and she felt it all along her spine. “No. I hadn’t even kissed Jones once. It was effective. You stayed calm, didn’t you. I didn’t really worry you at all.”

  She would bet he’d freaked the hell out of other women. “It takes a lot to panic me, Brighton. I know you don’t like it, but I can handle myself. An
d I can handle you. You weren’t going to hurt me.”

  “I almost killed Maia once. I thought I was trying to keep Jones quiet, but she was smaller than him. I covered her nose, too. She couldn’t breathe. She hit me, but I didn’t wake up. She finally managed to pick up a glass on the nightstand and broke it over my thick skull.”

  So he had his reasons to be worried. “I’m not Maia. I’m bigger and stronger than she is. I bet she hasn’t had the same self-defense training I’ve had.”

  His hands softened, beginning to stroke her. One hand flowed over her hair, the other down her back. “Yeah, she wouldn’t have thought to kiss me. Do you think you might want to kiss me in some situation other than trying to save your own life?”

  Such a drama queen. She lifted her head and found him staring down at her. Heart-stoppingly sexy. That’s what he was. With his sleepy eyes and that sexy beard of his, she couldn’t quite look away from him. And his lips. Oh, they were plump and sensual and she wondered what it would feel like to have those lips on her body, worshiping her skin, kissing and licking and sucking.

  She had a choice. She could step back and go to her widow’s bed and be alone or she could make one small move and the night wouldn’t be spent alone. She would spend it in his arms and she would finally know what it felt like to be Derek Brighton’s woman—even if only for a little while.

  With a shaky breath, she went on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

  * * * *

  Derek’s whole body reacted to her. His heart pounded, his skin tingled, every available ounce of blood seemed to flow right to his dick. She was saying yes. She was offering herself, and he wasn’t about to turn her down.

  The need to burn off the dream was riding him hard. When he’d finally woken up and found Karina’s body trapped under his, he’d damn near lost it. He could have hurt her, could have killed her. It was precisely why he didn’t sleep with women. He fucked and pleasured and found his comfort in their bodies, but he went to his own bed so he couldn’t hurt them.

  Except Karina really did seem to have handled him.

  He gave her a minute, allowed her to explore. Her mouth was oddly tentative for an experienced woman, but then Karina seemed to be a study in contradictions. She was on her toes, her hands moving from around his chest to his jawline where she brushed against his beard, her light touches making him shiver slightly.

  Fuck. He didn’t shiver. He didn’t get this weird tightness in his stomach. He fucked. He brought pleasure. He didn’t get worried or nervous.

  But he was kind of both because he wanted her so fucking bad, he couldn’t see straight.

  From the moment he’d woken up and found her underneath him, his cock had jumped and pleaded and twitched in his boxers. His brain might know that she wasn’t his type but his cock had entirely different ideas about what was attractive.

  She kissed him and he kept still, allowing her to explore, to be in charge for now because she wouldn’t be later. What was attractive? She was. God, he loved the fact that she’d been willing to take off his balls if she’d had to. He also kind of loved that she’d come up with a way to save his balls.

  He could still remember Maia crying. She’d sobbed for hours after the incident. Not Karina. Karina had that crazy sexy smile on her face that let him know she hadn’t been bothered at all by his crazy fucking PTSD dreams. She’d handled it. She’d taken care of it and she hadn’t needed to nearly kill him to do it.

  Karina wasn’t his forever sub, but damn he wanted her now.

  She stopped, pulling slightly back. When she looked up at him, he nearly got to his knees.

  She was fucking gorgeous with tears in her eyes. She bit her bottom lip, obviously nervous. “Do you want me to stop?”

  He had zero plans to stop. He might never fucking stop. A dangerous thought played through his head. He didn’t have to stop. He could fuck Karina until he didn’t have an ounce of come in his body and then he’d just wait until he had more and he’d give that to her, too.

  “Yes. I want you to stop.” Because it was far past time for him to take over.

  Her face fell, the sweetest pink flushing through her. He loved her skin when she was embarrassed or emotional. She couldn’t hide from him. It all played out over that precious flesh of hers. “Okay.”

  She started to take a step away, but he wouldn’t allow it. She might be able to handle him when he was asleep, but he was going to make it very plain that he was her Master when he was awake. He caught her, pulling her to his body, letting her feel every ounce of his will because it was all directed her way.

  “I want you to stop because I’m the top, Karina.”

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  The Collector of Dying Breaths: A Novel of Suspense

  By M.J. Rose

  Coming April 8, 2014

  Click here to purchase.

  From the internationally bestselling author, a lush and imaginative novel that crisscrosses time as passion and obsessions collide

  Florence, Italy—1533:

  An orphan named René le Florentin is plucked from poverty to become Catherine de Medici’s perfumer. Traveling with the young duchessina from Italy to France, René brings with him a cache of secret documents from the monastery where he was trained: recipes for exotic fragrances and potent medicines—and a formula for an alchemic process said to have the potential to reanimate the dead.

  In France, René becomes not only the greatest perfumer in the country, but also the most dangerous, creating deadly poisons for his Queen to use against her rivals. But while mixing herbs and essences under the light of flickering candles, René doesn’t begin to imagine the tragic and personal consequences for which his lethal potions will be responsible.

  Paris, France—The Present:

  A renowned mythologist, Jac L’Etoile—trying to recover from personal heartache by throwing herself into her work—learns of the sixteenth-century perfumer who may have been working on an elixir that would unlock the secret to immortality. She becomes obsessed with René le Florentin’s work—particularly when she discovers the dying breaths he had collected during his lifetime.

  Jac’s efforts put her in the path of her estranged lover, Griffin North, a linguist who has already begun translating René le Florentin’s mysterious formula. Together they confront an eccentric heiress in possession of a world-class art collection, a woman who has her own dark purpose for the elixir . . . for which