Stormy Night Publications Publishers of BDSM and Kink Erotica
Prologue
Lachlan
“Well, our boy almost got himself kicked out of college just days before graduation.” Grant clapped me on the back, grinning as if he’d just won the lottery.
“No kidding?” Jameson teased. “For violence or sex?”
“Sex. He was found with the dean’s daughter in a very uncompromising position. I believe she was naked and tied to his headboard.”
I glared at Grant and slid onto the seat, unable to keep from smiling. “She had no issues being tied and flogged. She was the best submissive I’ve ever had.”
“You’re a hound dog. How did you avoid expulsion?” Jameson asked, lifting his eyebrows.
Shrugging, I sat back in my chair, envisioning the way Darcy had looked chained to my bed, her pussy glistening after I’d brought her to her third climax. “Pops knows everyone even in this country.”
“And the powerful and influential Scots rule the world again.” The disdain in Jameson’s voice was understandable given his parents were close to being broke. But he had no idea how ruthless my father could be, or what was expected of the man’s only son.
“Here’s to more sex,” I said with absolute conviction in my voice as I lifted my glass of booze.
“Coming from the man who has sex five nights a week. Kinky sex too. Don’t you handcuff every girl to your bed, stuffing her mouth with a ball gag?” Grant asked, the expression on his face deadpan serious.
“Nah,” I mused, acting as if I didn’t have a care in the world when my father had already started hassling me about returning home. That wasn’t going to happen. “Pretty little mouths are meant to be fucked. But if she’s a screamer, I shove her panties past her pert lips.”
Jameson groaned. “You’re a sick man.”
“It’s called sadism,” Grant snorted. “At least our playboy knows what’s important in life.”
“You guys are twisted fucks. My life is different. Here’s to no more late nights,” Jameson said as he lifted his bottle of Budweiser.
“So, you’re giving up sex?” Grant teased. “I thought you and that bottled blonde were getting it on pretty heavy a couple nights ago. She certainly has a nice pair of… lungs on her.” He glanced in my direction, winking.
“Grant’s right. I thought I saw her going down on you in the truck the other day. You had your hand tangled in her hair, her head bobbing up and down. Or was that some other honey you picked up off the side of the road?”
“Shut the fuck up, both of you,” Jameson snarled, puffing up his chest as if we’d really insulted him. He twirled his bottle on the table then gave us a sly grin. “I’ll have you know I might continue seeing Jenny after leaving this shithole. And you’re right. She has one hot, wet mouth.”
While we all laughed, I shook my head. The shithole he was referring to was the University of Pennsylvania, tuition closing in on seventy thousand a year. Ivy League all the way.
A requirement my father had insisted on.
The three of us had been buddies since freshman year. Considering Jameson Stark was the epitome of an all-American superstar, Grant Wilde a studious nerd, and I was fresh off the boat from Scotland, we were a motley mix at best. We’d weathered good and bad times, pulling enough pranks we’d landed our asses in jail on two occasions. Through my tutelage, we’d ruled the campus, acting as if we owned the place. Our arrests had only added to our notorious status. Thank God Grant’s father knew everybody powerful and influential in the entire country or we would have graduated from a community college if we’d gotten lucky.
While Grant and I came from money, Jameson was the lucky one. He had a family who loved him. Grant and I had been tossed into boarding school at age six, so we had that in common.
Which was nothing to brag about.
Still, Jameson’s father had cancer, something my buddy didn’t talk about much. He had no choice but to help out his dad when he graduated.
“I didn’t think you were that eager to leave given you’re the local hero,” Grant chided.
“Yeah. Yeah. That was months ago,” Jameson huffed, although every time he was reminded that he’d rushed sixty-two yards for a touchdown in the final seconds of the most important football game of the year, he beamed like a kid. Thank God for football scholarships or even with financial aid, his parents could never have afforded to send him away to college.
Grant rolled his eyes. “Hey. Do you have a fancy job doing architecture yet?”
It wasn’t the first time Jameson’s face fell since graduation. “Nah. I’m gonna earn some cred points working for my dad’s commercial construction firm for a couple years.”
“Shit. You wanted to design gorgeous buildings,” I told him. That’s all he’d talked about.
“Yeah, I know. I will one day. What about you? Heading back to Scotland?”
“Fuck, no. After I graduate school, I’m going to wind up being a CEO of a billion-dollar company.”
“Fantasize much?” Grant teased. The financial whiz was headed to Harvard for graduate school. One day he’d dominate the world. “Maybe you need to get laid. Again.”
“Very funny. Dreaming big is free. But I’m serious.”
“You’re arrogant enough to make that happen,” Jameson threw out as he grabbed his shot of tequila, pounding it back.
I gave him a finger then raised my arm to attract the waitress. I’d always had grandiose thoughts, even as a kid. What was wrong with that? “Here’s a good idea. In a few years we get back together and develop a company. I’ll be the CEO while marketing our product. Buddy Grant here will handle the finances and Master Jameson will design and be the general contractor for the great big, all glass buildings in our complex.”
“Oh, now we’re going to have a complex? He’s already drunk and it’s barely eight at night,” Grant said, snorting as he shook his head.
Jameson remained quiet. Then he glanced from Grant back to me. “You know what? That’s a good idea. Our boy Lachlan could sell an igloo on a tropical island. Grant, you can turn ten bucks into ten million in the blink of an eye. And I’ll design the sexiest goddamn building you’ve ever seen.”
Grant threw me a look, nodding twice. “Not bad. We’ll have our trust funds by then, school under our belts. Why the fuck not?”
I laughed until I realized they both were serious. I had to admit, I liked the idea of working with them. We were entirely different, which meant we wouldn’t tread on each other’s turf. “There’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?” Jameson grinned.
“What the hell would we do in this awesome building we own?” I had a filthy idea but was curious if either one of the others were thinking along the same lines.
Grant took a deep breath. “We use our real skills.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I threw back at him. The man’s eyes were positively glowing, which happened every time he had a hare-brained idea.
“Sex.”
“Beg your pardon?” Jameson immediately started laughing.
“I’m not kidding,” he told us. “I’ve been reading Forbes and other financial magazines about up-and-coming businesses.”
“A whorehouse?” Jameson wrinkled his nose.
Grant lifted his eyebrows. “No, goofball. A sex club. And I’m not talking about pole dancers and strippers.” His grin was a mile wide.
“Then what the hell are you talking about?” Jameson demanded.
“High class. Catering to the rich and famous.”
“A kink club,” I threw in. “Where all pleasures are provided.”
“For a price.” Jameson knew what I was talking about. “All upscale and posh, several floors of perfection. Bars. Private rooms. The finest quality liquor and food.”
“I like that. He’s onto something. Why don’t you whip up a design for us?” Grant was having fun with this.
“So, we get back together in three years. You two graduate from your Ivy League schools. I’ll have commercial construction under my belt and maybe work up a few designs. You two have the backing money. We’ll get a loan if needed. Then we’ll start the hottest club ever seen.”
“I love the idea. Sex all day.” Grant ordered another round.
The truth was I thought it was the best damn idea I’d heard in a long time. Plus, it would piss off my father. Even better. “Just one problem. What do we call this illustrious den of sin?”
All three of us mulled it over. It was Jameson who lit up first. “Carnal Sins.”
Grant reared back in his chair. “The boy is brilliant.”
Seconds later, the waitress brought our beers and shots and we toasted again to the future.
Little did we know what fate had in mind.
Chapter One
Twenty years later
Lark
Some days were meant to be disasters.
Ugly. Treacherous. Bursts. Of. Anguish.
I’d come to that conclusion, and it was only eleven-thirty in the morning.
A pissed-off client threatening to fire me.
A less than stellar meeting with my boss.
My mother’s nagging reminder about the bachelorette auction.
Finding my boyfriend of eight months balls deep in the cunt of a redheaded cowgirl wannabe.
Now this.
As I struggled to shove the lid onto the scalding coffee, I turned around without looking.
The jarring thud wasn’t because I’d added clumsy to my long list of frustrations, but because of a hard body who’d stepped in my way.
“Fuck! Why didn’t you look where you were going?” The ugly words left my mouth before I could drag them back into the darkness. While drips of coffee scalded my hand, almost the entire amount from my sixteen-ounce cup splashed directly on the offending person. When the hulking mass of a man didn’t say a word, I lifted my head.
And stared into the most gorgeous set of forest green eyes I’d ever seen. They were vibrant in color like the rolling hills of Kentucky on a warm spring day. Flecks of gold shimmered around his irises, adding a depth that could be misconstrued as warm, even kind.
But I knew better.
Lachlan McKenzie was an insufferable sadist, a man with no conscience. Just this morning I’d heard his terse words he’d thrown at another attorney, his deep, sensual voice penetrating my office wall. From what I could tell, Mr. Asshole had fired his attorney.
The powerful billionaire was a chiseled god with the devil’s soul. Given the attorney he was arguing with handled criminal cases, that boosted my belief the man had dirty little secrets that he didn’t want to see the light of day.
Sadly, every woman in my office wanted to throw their lace panties at him. Hell, the man could walk outside and whistle and there wouldn’t be a woman within a four-block radius who wouldn’t offer to have his baby. While he was delicious eye candy with his broad shoulders and dark wavy hair that screamed of having fingers tangled in the thick locks, that couldn’t shadow his arrogance.
Or his obvious dominance over women. He oozed control, acting as if he owned the world. I wanted no part of his regime.
Even his rich Scottish brogue couldn’t save his wretched black soul.
Still, for a few seconds I allowed the same vision I’d had several times before to pop into my mind.
“You’re a very bad little girl, Lark,” Lachlan murmured from his office chair. “It’s time for your punishment.” He beckoned me with a single finger, pushing away from his desk. “Crawl to me. Eyes to the floor.”
I did so without hesitation, the intoxicating scent of his aftershave fueling another rush of desire. As I inched closer, I was able to hear the glitch in his breathing, becoming more labored. I took my time, dying to see the look on his face. Sometimes, I was a bad girl on purpose just to see what he would do. Being summoned into his office was filthy and delicious, any member of his staff able to walk in at any time.
The moment I was between his legs, he stroked the top of my head. “That’s a very good girl, my little pet. Purr for me.”
I rubbed my cheek against the inside of his leg, creating the sound I knew he adored. He continued to stroke my hair as he casually glanced at something from his desk. When I reached his inner thighs, my mouth watered at the sight of the thick bulge between his legs. I placed my head in his lap like he required, waiting for his command.
This is where I felt the safest, cared for. I could breathe without anxiety, heated by the closeness of our bodies.
“That’s enough, my sweet pet.” He eased his hand under my chin, lifting it with a single finger. There was no anger in his eyes, just disappointment from disobeying him. “It’s time for your punishment. You do understand what you did was very wrong?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That makes me very proud. Let’s get you over the edge of my desk.” He rubbed the backs of his fingers across my cheek, his gaze of disapproval turning into one of pride. Then he helped me to my feet, gently placing me over the edge of his desk facing the door.
I always felt so vulnerable when he spanked me here, but I was excited nonetheless, my pussy already dampening my thong. As he tugged the lacy thong down past my hips, I held my breath. I was allowed only a bra, panties, and heels when I visited his office, walking through the large office wearing a raincoat.
If his employees had any idea what was happening behind closed doors, they never gave any indication.
“Open your mouth, pet. We certainly don’t want anyone to hear us, now do we?”
I did so without hesitation. The feeling of having the thin lace shoved into my mouth was dirty, the musky scent of my desire shooting sensations through every muscle. The sound as he removed his belt heated my core, juice trickling down the insides of my thighs. I shuddered as he ran his fingers down my spine, caressing one side of my bottom then the other.
“Mmm… One day you’ll learn why rules are so important. Until then, I’ll ensure that you’re trained consistently, disciplined as needed.”
It was as if he was molding me into a better me, providing me with the tools needed to excel in whatever way he wanted.
“Anything for my pet.”
His voice scattered across my skin, erasing my fear. I was still safe, so protected. I cinched my eyes closed, resting my face on the cool wood. He pulled my legs apart, exposing my aching pussy.
“My pet is already wet. You thrive on pain.”
“Mmm…” I moaned through the lace.
“I’ll happy to provide exactly what you need.” He swirled the tip of his finger across my pussy lips, and I shuddered visibly.
I heard the snap of his wrist, the whooshing sound as the thick leather was dragged through the air. Then as the strap connected with my bottom, another rush of electricity coursed through me. He didn’t warm up, his spankings always harsh. The man preferred it rough.
And in truth, so did I.
As he brought the belt down four times, one strike right after the other, I marveled at the sound while pain danced along the edges of my every synapse. I sucked in my breath, my scent filtering into every pore. He brought the belt down two more times, the force driving me into the edge of the desk.
Pain exploded, dancing down my legs, the single yelp I issued muffled.
“That’s a good girl. Breathe for me, pet.” He brushed his fingers from one side of my aching bottom to the other, waiting as I gasped for air. “Now, we continue.”
I used to count the number of lashes he issued, no round of discipline ever the same. He never told me how many I’d receive. I usually couldn’t stay in position, which forced him to start over. At least I’d learned to be a good girl over the months of being together, which pleased him tremendously.
The sound seemed louder, the hard slap of leather against my skin floating all around me. His employees had to know what was going on. There was no way to disguise or ignore the sound. But they were too terrified of him to say anything.
I jerked up, the agony more intense than usual.
“Lark. Be a good girl or I’ll be forced to switch your pussy.”
After wrapping my fingers around the edge of his desk, I forced my mind to drift to my happy place, knowing that at the end of my punishment, I’d be in his arms. My pussy muscles clenched and released several times, an ache building deep inside my core. I craved his thick cock in my mouth and pussy, fucking me in the ass.
“Much better.” He administered four more then slid his hand between my legs, fingering my wet pussy. “Good girls are rewarded.”
Number one: I’d lost my mind. There would be zero additional fantasies regarding the man, even if he looked as if he’d just popped out of the latest fashion magazine.
Number two: This wasn’t any woman’s idea of the perfect meet-cute unless the girl was into grumpy men with a God complex. And pain. Rumors were that he was a sadist, requiring women to surrender to his sick needs. However, I was forced to admit he had a commanding way about him, the ease in which he controlled a room breathtaking.
Bondage.
Flogging.
Caging.
Caning.
The list was endless and out of the question.
Then why is your pulse quickening?
Okay, so his freshly fucked hair and piercing eyes that somehow managed to undress me without any exertion were enticing. However, I wasn’t fooled that easily. I’d heard enough stories to know he was difficult to work with, challenging to be around. He had a true je ne sais quoi about him that resonated in his devil-may-care attitude. It was appealing in a savage kind of way, but it certainly fit his persona.
Maybe I was riding him too hard. I didn’t know him after all. Another delicious vision tickled the back of my mind. I was shackled and spread wide open, Lachlan driving his cock deep inside my aching pussy.
What the hell was wrong with me? Maybe I was crushing on him because I looked particularly frumpy today. My father would say I’d been born an average girl. He’d even encouraged me to use my brain because my body wasn’t going to do anything valuable in my life. They were words I’d take to my grave. Maybe that’s why my fantasies had always been more blissful than real life.
I took a deep breath, shocked at the imagery as it slowly started to fade. I’d had multiple fantasies before but none so vivid or, in my mind at this point, so disgusting. How could I be fantasizing while standing in front of him? I tilted my head, driving the rest of the horrid vision away.
A solid hit of reality slammed me between the eyes, the look in his carnal, as if he wanted to devour me alive. For a few seconds we were locked in a private moment. There was no one else in the busy coffee shop, no one watching the trainwreck.
Then he had to go and ruin it all, a snarl erupting from his luscious lips within seconds as he stared down at his ruined white shirt. He’d thrown his arms out as if I planned on tossing another cup in his direction. After the morning I’d experienced, it wasn’t a bad idea.
Blinking, I was shocked my nipples ached and there was no doubt the scent of my desire mixed with the dash of hazelnut coffee.
“It would seem you’re the one who has issue paying any attention. You’re clumsy and need to learn how to behave,” Lachlan snapped, his husky Scottish accent tickling my senses, as if a warm cashmere blanket has been gently wrapped around my naked body.
I needed to learn how to behave? Was he kidding me?
“What does that mean?” I challenged.
“It means that you should watch where you’re going in a crowded establishment, and be more aware of your surroundings instead of caught up in your little world. I’m certain whatever it is you’re running off to is much more important. Right?” His tone was seductive, smooth, and rich.
It took everything I had not to smack the smug look off his face. However, I wasn’t in the mood to add arrest for assault and battery to the day’s shitty festivities.
He continued to stare at the stain as if I was going to clean it up for him or maybe bow at his feet, pleading like the little pet in my fantasy. Fuck fantasies. From now on, I was reading horror stories instead of romances. Nasty visions of grabbing two cups of scalding coffee, tossing them as I laughed entered my mind. Instead, I handed him a stack of napkins. “Here.”
At this point, I only hoped he didn’t recognize me from my office.
Or was a mind reader.
“You need to apologize,” he demanded a few seconds later. He patted his shirt then gave me a harsh glare. I could tell there was no recognition in his eyes whatsoever. I was just another woman who’d given him trouble on a glorious sunny Friday.
“It was an accident. I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Hmmm… I’m beginning to wonder.”
“My God. You’re an arrogant asshole.” By now, we had an audience, people eager to see a sporting event in the usually peaceful store. “Do you really think you’re God’s gift to women?”
He grinned and I could swear his teeth were used for marketing purposes for dentists everywhere. How could a man so toxic be so insanely good looking? Maybe when God made man, he could only check four of the five boxes and ‘manners’ was left unmarked.
“You’d be surprised what I’m like in bed. But that only comes for good little girls who follow the rules.”
I wanted to be horrified but his barb just threw gasoline onto my enraged fire. I moved closer, popping my hand on my hip, tilting my head so I was able to look him directly in his hard, cold eyes. “Listen up, buster. I’ve had a shitty morning, something you probably wouldn’t know about. I’m certain you have a staff at your house, in your office, and likely a driver to do your bidding. I’m sure all your days are filled with sunshine and unicorns.”
There was a distinctly different look crossing his face. It was likely the powerful man had never been challenged.
When at least four people clapped in appreciation of my bold, albeit stupid vomit of the mouth, his entire body tensed. “Apologize.”
“I repeat. It was an accident.”
“That’s why an apology is in order.” He narrowed his eyes, and it was difficult not to stare at the dimple that appeared every time he clenched his strong jaw.
While I’d been taught never to stereotype anyone without just cause, with him it was easy. He was a billionaire with an attitude to go with his tailored wardrobe. He could certainly afford a new shirt.
I refused to feel guilty.
“Gee. I’m sorry. Maybe if you were a lot nicer to people then karma wouldn’t bite your ass.” I knew I was risking the possibility he’d figure out who I was, demanding I was fired, even though to him as a junior attorney, I was nothing but a peon in his world. Still, it was worth the consequences to see the expression of anger drifting across his gorgeous face.
With that, I tossed the empty cup into the trash and left him standing with an incredulous look on his face, still clutching the soiled napkins. Just as I reached the door, I threw him a look over my shoulder, giving him what my mama called the butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth plastic smile. “Oh, yes. Where are my manners? Have a nice afternoon.”