Bottoms Up (13 page)

Sucking in a deep breath, Shiloh squeezed her hands together so hard she felt her nails digging into her skin. She fought to hide the fierce elation burning through her. He might be dismissive, but she’d been right all along. He did have a collar, he was Dominant, and if she played this right, it’d be impossible for him to back out. The competitor in him demanded excellence in all things, even a reality show.

Feigning indifference, she shrugged and turned away from the table. “Then perhaps you can recommend another Master.”

Shuffling through her carefully researched boards, she moved the most important one to the front. Her best friend and roommate—who just happened to be a graphic design artist—had helped with the artwork. A masked man stood on a dais, dressed like an English riding master with a wicked-looking whip in his right hand. Despite the costume, the man bore a marked resemblance to VCONN’s CEO.

Contestants knelt in an arc before him, all in submissive positions, head down, some stretched out prostrate before him. Two others stood on the steps to the dais but lower than him, a man and woman, also in Victorian riding wear. Despite their higher position than the contestants, they inclined their heads to the man above.

In bold letters across the top, the board read:
One Master to rule them all.

“V,” Ms. Kannes breathed out, her eyes bright. “You’re perfect!”

“I don’t want to do it.” Yet he stared at the board, his right hand opening and closing into a fist, as though he ached to reach out and grab that whip. “There’s no way in hell I’m unleashing that side of me on a bunch of—”

Shiloh pulled out the next storyboard and his voice fell off. In this sketch, a woman knelt at the Master’s feet and leaned against his legs. One hand was wrapped around his thigh; her other fisted in his shirt as though she was trying to climb his body. Her face was pressed against him with her hair pulled aside to bare her back. Long red stripes marked her skin and the Master’s whip curled around her vulnerable body with the heading:
One sub to please the Master—in any way he wishes.

He ground out, “It’s all wrong.”

Shiloh’s heart plummeted and her shoulders slumped with defeat. She’d gambled everything on this show. If he didn’t like it, then she’d totally misunderstood every single signal she’d picked up from him. She’d even had her friend stylize the winner after her, a deliberate message to him, if only he were paying attention.

She’d planned this show down to the smallest detail, dreaming about winning it all. Wrapping herself around him. Learning to please him in every single possible way he’d ever dreamed. Winning
him
.

Her eyes felt hot and dry, and her bottom lip trembled. It was ridiculous to be heartbroken over a man who’d never touched her. Never looked into her eyes and burned with need. Never taken her on a long, hard ride to a sweetly painful submission they’d never forget.

“You came very close, Ms. Holmes.”

She whipped her head up.

Victor Connagher gave her a hard smile of teeth and dominance that wound her heart into knots and sent icy chills dripping down her spine. “I can live with the English riding style.” He kicked back in his chair and propped his limited-edition Lucchese boots on the edge of the conference table. “But this Master only uses a riding crop.”

When the screen fades to black, all that remains is love.

Rough Cut

© 2010 Mari Carr

A
Black & White Collection
Story

Ty Ransome. Reigning king of Hollywood, producer, actor, Look Magazine’s Hottest Man Alive. He has it all—until he reads a book of short stories that touches him in places kept carefully hidden from the tabloid gossip mill. There’s only one way to meet the introverted writer—invite her to Tinseltown to work on a script. The moment he sees her, he realizes why her work haunts him. There’s something missing in his life, and it’s her.

Gwen steps off the plane with reservations. For one thing, her darkly sexual stories are hardly movie material. Then there’s Ty’s reputation as a ladies’ man. Yet she’s won over by his charm and agrees to stay on for a week to get to know him before making her decision. And as the days go by, she discovers there’s far more to Ty than a handsome face.

They eat, drink and breathe the characters in their screenplay, re-enacting scenes that delve into the BDSM realm, setting Ty free to unleash his powerful cravings and exposing Gwen’s deepest needs. Needs she set free on paper…but is not sure she’s ready to make a reality.

Warning: This title contains all the following Tinseltown essentials: explicit sex on a movie set, anal play in a mansion, BDSM with a hot movie star, capture fantasies while writing a screenplay, bondage in a limo, and, oh yeah, some graphic language—sorry about that.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Rough Cut

“Now this is the way I like to wake up,” a deep voice said beside her.

Gwen opened her eyes, briefly surprised to find her face only inches away from Ty’s. She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, then their nighttime conversation drifted back through her consciousness.

“You were supposed to stay on your own side.” Her voice was gruff with sleep. As she came fully awake, she became aware of his hand lightly rubbing a bare bit of skin at her waist, beneath her T-shirt.

“So sue me.” He leaned so close to her the only air she could feel was that of his soft breath on her cheek. His hand stopped caressing her waist and instead gripped it, pulling her even closer to him.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she whispered, despite the fact her hands were resting, unresisting, on his chest. She’d placed them there to push him away, but instead the traitorous things were exploring the rock-hard definitions of his pecs.

“I think a kiss in the morning is always a good idea.”

“Just a kiss?” She cursed her sudden breathlessness.

“Just a kiss, Gwen.” She was shocked by her disappointment until he added, “for now.”

His lips brushed hers and her body shuddered at the impact. His mouth wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t easy. He took her lips with a roughness that proclaimed his possession. He took everything she offered with her lips and tongue and demanded more. His hands drifted up to her face, engulfing her cheeks in his firm grip, turning her head exactly the way he wanted it. His teeth nipped at her lower lip and she thought for a moment she heard him growl before his tongue plunged into her mouth, tangling with hers. She’d never been kissed like this in her life and the feeling was heady. It made her dizzy, giddy, reckless and she suddenly realized she wanted more. Hell, she wanted all.

She reached up and held his face to hers, twisting her fingers in his hair. He mimicked the action with her own long tresses and she was amazed by her reaction to his rough touch. Each time he pulled her hair, the sensation of pain flowed pleasurably down her body, causing her hips to flex, searching for relief. Her body felt as if he’d set it aflame and she found her reactions shockingly animalistic.

“Harder. Pull harder,” she begged and he responded in turn. His lips trailed along her face, his rough beard scratching her sensitive skin until he reached her ear. He bit her earlobe, pulling her hair at the same time and she cried out, her hips gyrating wildly.

His hard body came over hers as he took control of her wrists, dragging them above her head and holding them firmly in place with one of his hands. She sensed he knew what his actions were doing to her as he pressed his covered cock firmly between her legs, letting her feel the proof of the desire they shared. She wanted to scream at him to take off his pants and give her what she needed, but instinctively she knew he would refuse her.

“Shhh.” He tightened his grip on her wrists while planting soft, sweet kisses on her face. “Calm down, gorgeous.”

She was panting, frustrated, and she foolishly felt as if she were on the verge of tears.

He leaned back at the sound of her soft cry, the look on his face a perfect mixture of shock, awe and naked, red-hot desire.

He smiled as she struggled to regain composure, her body screaming for relief.

“I can see there will be no such thing as innocent kisses with you,” he said.

She blinked rapidly, determined he shouldn’t see the tears threatening to fall. Christ, she was a fool.

“I-I, shit.” She struggled to free her hands. He released her and she pushed him away. He moved over easily and she realized she wouldn’t have been able to budge him if he hadn’t permitted it. She walked away from the bed, pressing her back against the wall for support.

“This is not, I mean, I don’t—” She was gasping for air and her voice and her body betrayed her, shaking uncontrollably.

He sat up slowly and she knew he was deliberately keeping his movements unhurried lest he frighten her. “Gwen, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

She wanted to laugh at the understatement of his words. He’d pulled her hair, held her down and she’d responded like a bitch in heat. He didn’t think that was wrong, weird?

“I told you before, Ty. I want us to keep our relationship professional. Sex muddies the water. You know that.”

“No, I don’t think I do. Gwen, there’s nothing wrong with admitting that we’re attracted to each other sexually. Shit, I can’t think of anything I want more than to tie your lovely body to that bed and bury myself between those hot thighs of yours.”

“Stop it! Stop saying stuff like that. It isn’t going to happen. Ever.”

He scowled at her words and rose from the bed, crossing to where she stood, trembling. “Well, I think you and I are about to have our first disagreement.”

He leaned toward her as she pressed her body flat against the wall. He caged her in, grasping her hands by the wrists once again and pressing them against the flat surface, just above her head. “You and I are most certainly going to have sex, Gwen. Hard, hot, incredibly intense sex and you’re going to love every minute of it.”

“You smug, conceited—”

“Pull your pants down,” he said as he loosened his grip.

She wanted to deny him, wanted to drive her fists against his chest and tell him to get the hell away from her, but his deep voice, his demanding words spoke to the loneliest part of her soul and she felt as if she’d been sunk neck-deep in quicksand.

“Pull them down now,” he repeated, his voice commanding. Clearly he expected her to comply. This was so wrong. God dammit, it was wrong. And yet her body felt alive for the first time ever.

She reached for the waistband of her pajama bottoms and she slowly shimmied the soft cotton over her hips. The material fell to her ankles and she stepped out of it, never taking her gaze off his determined face.

“Good girl,” he murmured and she raised her hand to slap him for his condescending comment. He caught her wrist and pressed it against the wall. “You don’t want to do that.”

She closed her eyes in surrender and he released her hand.

His dominant actions, his powerful words, were truly soothing her weary soul, despite the fact her head was demanding she run away from him. Ty Ransome was the one man who could be her complete and utter downfall, yet rather than escape, she found herself relishing every touch, every word he offered.

Bottoms Up

Miranda Baker

Love is the hardest limit.

“I’m an Aries. We don’t submit.”

“I’m a Leo. Wanna bet?”

Destiny Blake senses that her boredom with blond pretty boys is about to come to a flesh-tingling end. Since her first love left her for a more experienced Domme, she’s honed her topping skills to a fine edge. Yet the idea of bottoming for the hard-bodied owner of her favorite BDSM club is an erotic challenge she can’t resist.

Destiny isn’t Johnny Delcorral’s type. Tangling with her, even for one night, is a dangerous proposition for a man with good reason for needing his women submissive. But he suspects she’s hiding a submissive streak under her dreadlocks and leather, and he hungers to make her obey—and curb her reckless spirit.

The battle is on, both in the bedroom and out. Under Johnny’s knowing hands, she is dismayed to discover she’s enjoying submission more than she cares to admit. And Johnny finds himself relishing her defiance instead of curbing it—and fighting a growing unease with his inability to find her boundaries.

Until one night he pushes one step too far—and comes hard up against the one boundary he never expected to find.

Warning: This book contains naked power struggles, sexually charged spankings, kink from chains to canes, an Upstairs sex club, a hot m/f/m ménage, and absolutely everything the title promises.

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

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

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Bottoms Up

Copyright © 2010 by Miranda Baker

ISBN: 978-1-60928-276-9

Edited by Mary Hamilton

Cover by Natalie Winters

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: December 2010

www.samhainpublishing.com