Read Going Too Far (The Curvy Submissive) Online
Authors: Jordan Bell
With a deep breath, I knocked on the door.
It took an excruciating few minutes before I heard noise on
the other side. His voice, his footsteps on the hardwood floor, a light switch
flicking on in the hallway. I knew his apartment as well as I knew my own. I
felt him on the other side of the door, his weight creaking the wood, his
presence too near, too big, too warm. I touched the smooth lacquer beneath the
peep hole and imagined him doing the same.
The chain slid out of place, the dead bolt knocked back, and
finally he opened the door.
Josh met my gaze and all my rehearsed words turned to
gibberish. God, he was so handsome. I’d always known but I’d never
known
.
Never felt it in my chest or between my legs. Standing there wearing nothing
but his loose jeans and I felt the enormity of my attraction to him hit me
right beneath the breastbone. Shirtless, his skin took on a golden hue beneath
the hall light, long shadows marking out all the best places I wanted to kiss
and touch him. Like a treasure map.
This had been a mistake. We weren’t ready to face each other
yet. What had I been thinking?
I flicked my gaze from his naked stomach back up to his blue
eyes.
Whatever he was thinking, whatever emotions he might have
been feeling were completely shuttered to me. I might as well have been a
stranger selling Girl Scout cookies at five in the morning.
I knew in that one clouded look that he was going to break
my heart all over his doorstep. A clean break down the middle then shattered
beneath his boot.
We stood still and quiet gazing at each other, motionless,
wordless. If he said anything I’d come apart in a million different pieces no
one would ever be able to put back together again. His approval meant the world
to me and for the first time in my life I realized I didn’t have it.
Even if he didn’t
want me
want me, I needed him to
take my hand and pull me into his kitchen and start chocolate chip pancakes or
Saturday morning cartoons. Something normal and so
us
that we could
cling to even if everything else had become such a mess.
“Hey Josh,” I said, softer than I’d meant, as fragile as my
heart felt. His lips parted and I watched a shiver run down the length of his
biceps until he hid his trembling hands in the pockets of his jeans.
Before he could answer, a soft, feminine voice echoed back
to me from inside.
“I’m ready.
Sir
.”
He closed his eyes.
For a thousand million billion seconds I didn’t breathe or
blink and my heart didn’t beat. I gazed past his naked chest through the sliver
of doorway he didn’t protect to the shape of a girl standing in his living room
archway. Her ginger hair fell long and very straight down her bare shoulders to
her elbows, as soft and fine as silk. She was tiny, a slip of a woman and so
unfairly pretty. While her hips were nothing at all, her breasts more than made
up for her tiny frame. She in her jeans and lacy, ribboned bra, one arm tucked
obediently behind the small of her back, the other gripping a white silk cami
she’s clearly just taken off. She was perfect. Fuck. Of course she was.
Her eyes widened a fraction as she saw me seeing her.
For an awful moment the three of us stood frozen.
Thisisn’thappening. Thisisn’thappening.
Thisisn’thappening.
There was nothing either of us needed to say. No explanation
or excuse or reason that would make any of this better for any of us.
I turned and went back home alone.
Other Steamy Reads by Jordan Bell
Her
Secret Pleasure (Secrets #1)
Her
Secret Betrayal (Secrets #2)
Coming Soon:
Her Secret Power
(Secrets #3)
The
Billionaire’s Son: Distracting Jonah Silver
Taming
London: The Submission of London Mackenzie
Billionaire
Bait: Breakfast with Mia
, Ménage for Dessert
The
Curvy Submissive #1: Going too Far
Coming Soon:
The Curvy Submissive #2:
Girl in Pieces
Coming Soon:
The Curvy Submissive #3:
Wanting it All
My name is Jordan Bell and I am a
bestselling author of steamy romance. I love writing about strong, curvy women,
dashing heroes, and terrible villains!
I'm a midwest girl, grew up in the country before moving to the city. I'm still
in love with small town living but I could never give up my white chocolate
mocha lattes and easy access to wi-fi hotspots. A girl's gotta have priorities!
My website & blog:
www.jordanbellbooks.com
My Facebook:
www.facebook.com/authorJordanBell
Twitter:
twitter.com/Jordan_Bells
* * *
Then
don’t miss my erotic romance trilogy
SECRETS
about old lovers reunited years after they were sure they’d never see each
other again. Old passions die hard, but can Kara and Sean pick up where they
left off after so much time and heartache?
Short
excerpt from HER SECRET PLEASURE, Secrets #1:
"Up," he whispered as he placed his hands on my
hips. I slid up onto the edge of the counter top, a secret part of me stirring
with pleasure at being given a command from this man it could happily obey.
He moved his hands down to my bare knees to just above my
socks and parted my legs slowly. The memory of this felt so acutely real it
took my breath away and started my heart hammering despite my exhaustion. He
was so close, his hot breath on my face, the warmth radiating through his
fingertips on my bare skin. It all felt so deliciously familiar. I gazed up at
his face, but he watched my knees where his hands touched. His eyes glassed
over and I thought I could detect a hitching change in his breathing, too.
When Sean pulled his hands away, they were shaking.
He grabbed a handful of paper towels, ran one under the
faucet, and then moved expertly between my parted legs to get as close as
possible. He touched a fingertip under my chin, raised my gaze to meet his, and
lightly guided my face to turn so that my wounded cheek was facing him, every
touch given with frightening intimacy.
He held me still with his thumb on my chin and index finger
beneath it. Very gently he touched the wet paper towel to the dry edges of my
scratch. I flinched, tried to yank away from him, but he held me steady.
"Shhh," he whispered. "I've got you."
The ghost of a smile caught the corners of his mouth and I
considered what the consequences might be if I pressed my mouth against that
smile.
* * *
Erika Masten
is one
of my favorite authors of steamy stories. If you like
THE CURVY SUBMISSIVE
,
you’ll enjoy her series,
ART
OF DOMINATION: MODEL RELEASE
. Check it out!
ART OF DOMINATION: MODEL RELEASE
Reformed wild girl Iva Moreau
is doing a passable job of convincing herself that leaving behind the artist
lifestyle for the safety of suburbia and the respectability of academia is the
mature decision. She suffers her job as an Art Department secretary at
Vandergriff University, belittled by her supervisor and pursued by lecherous
professors, as willing penance for her former life on the art scene and all the
damage it ultimately did not only to Iva but to her family. But she can’t
maintain that distance when her baby sister, Cheri, starts down a path all too
familiar to Iva.
Unrepentant bad boy Nolan
Beal is the up-and-coming rock star of the photography world with a
seven-figure salary snapping shots for glossy fashion magazines and his own
nouveau noir erotic exhibition at
the
gallery in town for controversial
and provocative art. His work is all about power and the hypocrisy behind sex…
and the masks people use to hide their true natures and desires even from
themselves. Themes of domination and submission run as rife through his life
and his liaisons with beautiful woman as they do through his photographs.
When Iva shows up at Nolan’s
studio to demand that the photographer stop using her younger sister as a model
for his erotic exhibition, an instant attraction between them causes the very
different masks they wear to slip. And they strike a deal. In exchange for Iva
submitting to one modeling session for Beal, he will give her Cheri’s signed
model release and relinquish the right to use the photographs forever.
As life begins to imitate
art, however, and the steamy photo shoot sets off sparks, neither are prepared
for the passions released by the first meagre glimpses of the true Nolan and
Iva behind the masks.
SAMPLE
“We should talk upstairs,” I
lied and tried to tame down the dark exhilaration I felt creeping into my best
gentlemanly smile as I held this woman’s gaze. There was no way she
should
have followed me upstairs, along the white brick steps lined with
Mapplethorpe’s and Newton’s few people would have recognized as originals. No
way she
should
have felt safe being led by a stranger, a shirtless man
wielding a bottle of overpriced rum and two days’ worth of stubble growth at
half past ten in the morning. Two strange men, even, as Stan took it upon
himself to bring up the rear.
For her part, my reluctant
guest maintained her cool air of condemnation, in the stiffness of her spine
and the little downward curl of a pout on her lips. She glided smoothly and
aloofly as she walked, with practiced and conscious composure obvious in the
way she measured her pace. Her gaze focused inward as much as outward. Her
thick, curly ponytail hardly swayed. What she didn’t seem to realize was how
tantalizingly that posture shifted her shoulders back and her perfect, round
breasts forward. I could have made her arch that gracefully curved spine much
harder.
My brow perked without my
conscious cooperation as I glanced repeatedly at her over my shoulder, a dozen
images flashing through my head to suggest how she might have looked as one of
my models…. With a feminine, flowing wisp of a couture gown dressing that fair
golden skin as she knelt on cold bare marble, the neckline jerked askew to
reveal one full, flushed breast with a gleaming metal clamp pinching her hardened
nipple. With equal parts distress and desire on her face as I posed her bent
naked over a velvet chaise with clover clamps tormenting those rosy nipples, a
heavy teardrop weight pulling at the chain between the pincers and increasing
the pressure. With the angry pink glow of rushing blood below the surface of
her skin as the tab at the tip of a stiff riding crop warmed her tits. How
could a man resist the chance to capture—and forever preserve—that exquisite
moment when the irritation of that sharp, repeated nip and the hot sting of
pain-pleasure pushed her past her boundaries into a climax that bowed her lips
and throbbed in her clitoris?
No, no way she should have
been following a man who was getting hard at the thought of photographing her
as a high-fashion sex slave. A man like me.