BUY LINKS:
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BOOK DESCRIPTION:
Business
partners, Smith and Brock share their fortune, success, and they share their
women. A healthy competitive streak built MDR Software into a multi-million-dollar
enterprise, and their on-going bets continuously raise the stakes. The current
proposition: an arranged ménage encounter through the sex club, Castle Dolce
Vita. The prize: a sexy kitten, Kyra.
While
the two wealthy, powerful men are enough to pique Kyra’s interests to fulfill
the Pact of Seduction and live out her ultimate fantasy, a bet forged between
the men comes with an intriguing promise. Her pleasure is now part of their
wager.
Soon,
Kyra fights against her desire for the men as she struggles through the
complications of a ménage relationship. Of course, the men take their bets
seriously and are determined to show Kyra that in this game of seduction no one
loses.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
EXCERPT:
“Prick.”
Smith slammed the pool cue down on the table, cursing the game that had cost
him a thousand dollars. The muscles in his neck ached, as did the throb in his
head from concentrating on winning for the last twenty minutes.
His
business partner, Brock, laughed. The black ball spun in the corner pocket, and
the white ball swept up the table to hit one of Smith’s two remaining striped
balls. “Pay up,” Brock stated.
Smith
scowled at the glow in Brock’s blue-gray eyes. He mentally flipped Brock off
for his satisfied smirk. With a snort, Smith grabbed his wallet from his back
pocket, then tossed the money onto the pool table. “You got lucky.”
“Lucky!”
Brock gave a booming laugh. “It’s all skill, buddy.”
He
cursed again under his breath, dropping down into the leather seat in the
corner of his office. Perhaps he shouldn’t have purchased the new pool table.
Then he wouldn’t have had his ass handed to him.
His
secretary had thought he’d lost his mind when he asked her to place the order.
Smith figured it made total sense. A game in between the long hours he worked
kept him sane, which made a thought rise. “Did you go through the last stack of
résumés?”
Brock
nodded. “Sure did, but no one stood out.”
Smith
pointed. “You’re too damn picky.” He’d seen at least four résumés that fit
exactly what they were looking for to hire new employees to ease up their
workload.
Brock
grinned. “Perhaps.” He hesitated, then gave a halfhearted shrug. “Why change
something that works.”
Even if
the month-long search grated on Smith’s last nerve, he also couldn’t deny the
truth behind Brock’s statement.
MDR
Software had been built upon years of hard work and sweat, not only from Smith,
but from Brock too. When the company had celebrated its five-year anniversary,
it had grown into a million-dollar venture in Chicago. After the takeover a
year later of fellow software company HighDot, located in the heart of
Baltimore, MDR’s worth tripled.
Brock
leaned against the pool table, his gaze glowing. “New bet?”
“You
emptied my wallet, who says I want another bet?”
While
Smith did have money in the bank, he didn't have any other cash on him. It had
taken a good year to stop the memories of living paycheck to paycheck and
pinching every penny. Though he’d grown more comfortable with money, he’d never
forget when they first opened the company, he ate hotdogs for an entire month.
“Not
interested in winning your cash back?” Brock asked, stretching his arms.
The
sardonic look Brock delivered usually raised the stakes in their bets. A
competitive streak had remained healthy between them, and not only in business.
For the most part, Smith enjoyed betting on things,
except when he lost. “Possibly.”
Smith
laced his fingers behind his head, catching a glimpse of the Baltimore skyline
out the large panoramic window. The dark night was typical. There wasn’t a day
he, or Brock, didn’t put in a ten-hour shift.
Hard
work made for a solid company. Yet the long hours had also been the reason why
Smith had been pushing for new employees. He wanted a life, not more time in
his damned office.
The
telephone next to Smith rang once, and Brock’s grin became sinful. Smith’s
irritation at the loss of the game morphed into a new type of heat, pooling low
in his groin. He reached for the phone on the side table, then held it to his
ear. “Smith.”
“Kyra
Garner is here to see you,” the security man, Antonio, said. “I realize it’s
late, but she said you were expecting her.”
“Send
her up.” Smith placed the phone back on the base, spotting Brock’s expression
shift in intensity. Smith also sensed the growing impulse to control and
conquer. It’d been a long day waiting for Kyra to arrive, and now Brock’s
question held a stronger appeal. “I take it she’s the bet?” At Brock’s nod, he
added, “What’s the wager?”
Brock smirked. “Ecstasy.”
Smith had always understood why women flocked to
Brock; his charisma, handsome features, matched with a lighthearted personality
impressed the ladies. Smith witnessed the toughest businesswomen crack under
the assault of that smile. “Bet on ecstasy, hmm?” He rubbed his jaw,
considering the proposition. “I’m intrigued, but why that one?”
Brock lifted a lazy shoulder. “Any other bet would
make us assholes.”
Smith nearly offered a bet on who Kyra would take
an interest in, perhaps who she might want to date when the night concluded. It
had happened before. Smith had attempted to date two of the women he’d met
through ménage adventures with Brock. The last woman had become near obsessive,
causing Smith to shut her down when she showed up at his office. The only thing
that resulted from any relationship lately was money-hungry women who wanted a
certain lifestyle he wouldn’t give them.
Even the women he dated who weren’t into ménage
relationships ended up more interested in where he took them for dinner. The
social circuit in Baltimore had been disappointing and hadn’t given him
anything other than one-night stands.
After consideration, he dismissed the thought of
his idea for the bet. Anything too emotional crossed a line neither him, nor
Brock, would cross. He preferred no-strings-attached sex, but he wasn’t a
coldhearted bastard. “Interesting bet. Indeed.”
Brock ran a hand through his sandy-colored messily
styled hair, which amused Smith. No matter if they were surrounded by
millionaires, at work, or watching Sunday-night football, his hair always
remained disheveled. “Christ, she’ll reap the rewards anyway.”
From what Smith heard out in the hallway, Kyra was
nearly at his office, her high heels clicking along the marble floor. “No one
loses,” Smith agreed. “Well, except one of us, which will be you.”
“Dream on.” Brock jumped off the pool table as the
sound of her heels against the floor drew closer. “You in?”
Smith nodded. “Double it up.”
The clicks of Kyra’s heels sounded right outside
the door. One second passed of silence—far longer than he expected. He wondered
if she searched for bravery. When she finally entered through the opened door,
the sight of her stunned him, and his entire body came to life.
His cock hardened to steel, causing him to groan as
raw primal need tensed his muscles. He experienced a pull to her that shocked
the wind right out of his lungs—it was more than lust; it was raw chemistry.
Kyra was beautiful.
Standing at the doorway, she offered a sweet smile
that held a mysterious edge. Her green eyes were a stunning light color he’d
never seen before. Her long black hair would drape beautifully over his thighs
when her puffy lips pleasured him.
“Hello, Kyra,” he murmured.
She strode into the office with a confidence he
favored in women, chin high, gaze fixated directly on him. Once in the center
of the office, she licked those lovely glossy pink lips. “Smith.” Her gaze cut
to the right. “Brock.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” Brock winked, a playful
smile teasing the corners of his mouth. “I mean to say, in person, and not
through e-mails and texts.”
Her laughter was as lovely as the women who owned
it. “Yes, exactly.”
Smith stood from the chair in the corner, gesturing
to the leather couch. “Please take a seat.”
Kyra approached the couch, and her scent carried to
him. Smith inhaled the mix of flowers and spice that suited her. Sweet with a
slice of fire. He reveled in that combination. “Would you like a glass of
wine?”
Her smile was polite. “Yes, thank you.”
Smith chuckled under his breath, unable to stop
himself. An outsider would think she arrived tonight for business. Kyra looked
all too proper in her rose-colored blouse and black pencil skirt, but her
killer legs were anything but appropriate.
The meeting tonight had nothing to do with
discussing software.
Brock closed the office door and locked it before
he dropped down into the couch across from her, while Smith retrieved her wine
from the small bar in the corner.
“Do tell us, Kyra, about this pact of seduction you
made with your friends,” Brock said. “I must admit, I found your ad at the
Castle Dolce Vita…appealing.”
A personal ad Smith and Brock had stumbled upon
late one night on the Web site’s forum. Castle Dolce Vita was located out of Bowleys Quarters, a half-hour
drive from Baltimore. The castle catered to
everything from ménage encounters to BDSM to just about anything the mind could
conjure.
Smith poured her wine and corked the bottle. He
turned to hear her reply in a strong voice, “It’s a silly pact between friends
to live out our ultimate fantasies. Call it boredom, or maybe insanity, but
that’s the gist of it. Two of my friends have already completed the pact, and
so, here I am.”
Smith enjoyed the strength Kyra portrayed. Most
women wouldn’t voice such thoughts so freely without a stumble in speech or
mere hesitation. Impressed by her, he approached, eyeing her silky calf crossed
over her knee, envisioning exactly where and how he planned to touch her.
Smith reached her, raised his attention to her
face, and she bewitched him with her elegance. He offered her the wineglass.
“You all joined the Castle Dolce Vita to fulfill this pact?”
She accepted the glass and as she did, he brushed
his fingers over hers. Kyra’s eyes widened, breath hitched. “Yes, we all
joined. It seemed like the best place to find others looking for similar
ventures.”
The perfect place, Smith thought.
Though that interested him, he couldn’t take his
eyes off her, more than pleased he wasn’t the only one affected by the clear
heat between them. Tonight would be enjoyable for all, if her reactions were
anything like she’d shown from the simple touch.
He and Brock had both been members of Castle Dolce
Vita since they relocated to Baltimore. Of course, they also had visited many
sex clubs around the country who catered to sexual exploration. He’d reveled in
the freedom. No emotions. No needy women. He could have fun, then walk away.
While both of them had numerous relationships
throughout the years, some lasting longer than others, all failed miserably.
Their tastes included an active sexual appetite. Smith had never met a woman
who fulfilled him enough, and none of their ménage relationships had ever
worked out. The women they’d been with had thought they could handle two men,
but it always turned out two was just a little too much.
“Why are you members?” Kyra asked.
Simple question. Simple answer.
Together, they weren’t only solid partners in
business and excelled at their work, but with a woman between them, they shone.
They’d shared their fortune, success, and enjoyed sharing their women.
Smith watched as Kyra took a sip of her wine and
her eyes fluttered closed, indicating she enjoyed the taste of the wine. At six hundred dollars a
bottle, Smith wasn’t surprised. He sat down in the leather chair to her left, gazing over the long lines of her
shapely, silky legs.
Images of them wrapped around his waist while he
drove into her could be his undoing. He forced his gaze onto her face again,
which was currently turning a lovely rose color under his examination.
Smith liked the effect he had on her.
He fought to remember her question and cleared his
throat. “Our business is our top priority. This tends to mean our time is
limited. The castle has provided a means for us to enjoy sex without involving
relationships. Also, it has the highest form of privacy.” Even he heard the
cold distance in his voice and saw her eyebrows rise.
Every person who joined the castle signed a waiver
swearing to keep things private and not share identities to nonmembers, and
everyone went through STD and AIDS testing. Smith preferred knowing his sexual
partners were clean rather than having casual sex with strangers from a
nightclub, and the privacy of the castle offered a sense of freedom.
Kyra took another mouthful of her wine, then with a
twinkle in her eyes, tipped the glass at him. “Understandable. Privacy is
something I can appreciate too.”
Woman,
you are to be appreciated, and then some.
Brock chuckled at Smith, clearly reading his
thoughts. He turned to Kyra. “Tell us a little something of yourself. More than
the basic details in the profile we saw when we discovered you, kitten.”
The side of her mouth arched at the nickname
indicating she didn’t mind, and why would she? Smith had no doubt Brock lowered
his voice to inflict a straight attack on her hormones.
“I’d prefer if we kept the small talk to minimum,”
she said.
Smith leaned back in his seat. He’d never met a
woman who didn’t want some type of intimate connection before they had sex. Not
in any of the encounters that had been arranged through the castle, or
relationships out of the castle for that matter.
He lifted his chin. “All business, then?”
She drank a larger sip of her wine before she
lowered the glass. “We’re not here to get to know one another, are we? We’re
here to fulfill my ménage fantasy.” Her eyebrows rose higher. “That is what we
agreed to, yes?”
“All action. No talking.” Brock’s grin widened as
he rubbed his jawline. “Damn, kitten, you’re my type of woman.”
While Brock seemed eager and accepting of her
response, Smith wasn’t so easily swayed. Women, even if they came in different
colors and shapes, were still women rich with emotions. Right now, Kyra acted
more like a man, void of any emotional connection. “Are you comfortable with
that arrangement, Kyra?”
Her deep swallow displayed her nerves, but she
sipped her wine in haste controlling the reaction. “I prefer it.”
Smith grinned at her while she shifted uneasily in
her seat. He enjoyed that he unnerved her, since her presence gave him a hefty
erection. Plus, she made him far more interested than he’d ever been in any
woman.
While he believed she had, in fact, lied to him
with her answer, he wouldn’t speculate as to why. He also wouldn’t argue it out
with her either. Her emotions belonged to her. “Fair enough.”
He paused while she drank her wine again. Once he
had her fixated on him, he leaned forward, resting his arms on his elbows.
“It’s important you’re aware of what’s ahead of you tonight. Before you
arrived, Brock and I decided to make a bet on you, if you’re agreeable.”
Suspicion darkened her eyes as she lowered her
glass onto her lap. “What sort of bet?”
“Your orgasms,” Brock declared.
A blush crept over her face, yet her expression
didn’t hold any wrath at such a bet, which Smith would’ve expected. She
blinked. “E-excuse me?”
Brock added, “The wager is simple: orgasms for
points. Whoever gains the most points from your pleasure by the end of the
night wins the money.”
Her pupils dilated, and her lips arched up into a
sexy smile. “Might I ask what the value of this bet is?”
“Two thousand dollars,” Smith stated.
All the heated reaction vanished in a millisecond
replaced by wide eyes, and her mouth fell open. She glanced around the office
as she must’ve realized their wealth. Maybe only now she realized they didn’t
just work at MDR Software, but they owned the company.
Smith had seen the reaction many times—fancy things
impressed women, sparkly things even more. What he hadn’t ever seen before,
once the surprise faded from her eyes, she didn’t seem at all interested in
that. “Seriously, a two-thousand-dollar bet on my orgasms?”
“Yes, kitten, we’re quite serious.” Brock grinned.
“Are you willing?”
Christ, Smith could only grip the armrests to stop
himself from going to her, tossing her legs over his shoulders, and having
himself a snack. No woman had ever made him this damn hard.
In a slow, seductive slide of her finger she traced
the rim of her glass as she regarded them. “I’m agreeable to join the bet.” Her
cheeks flushed a color that wreaked havoc on Smith’s cock, making it ache in
need. “But I’m afraid there’s a problem.”
Smith forced his attention away from her slender
finger that he hoped would make a similar move on his dick. He also ignored her
pinkish cheeks that he prayed burned deeper while she writhed beneath him.
“Which is?”
She hesitated, then said on a quick breath, “I
don’t orgasm easily.”
Smith smiled. As if that would be a problem. But it
was glaringly obvious she pretended to be a sex kitten who was, in fact,
more or less, in way over her beautiful head.
He could see himself respecting a woman like Kyra.
He exchanged a look with Brock, who gave him a firm
nod, indicating their thoughts ran on the same line. Smith turned to Kyra
again, and he noticed how she squirmed in her seat.
Exactly how he wanted her.
Smith appreciated a confident woman who fought to
be brave, and he respected the trait, yet without a certain vulnerability to
her, the appeal would fade. He loved pink cheeks and a stunned speechless woman
under his touch. More to the point, enjoyed when a woman unraveled in his
presence. To hold such heady power fed a greedy part in his soul.
In the minutes Kyra had been in his office, she’d
given him all these things.
He tilted his head, regarding the treat awaiting
him on the couch. “Quite the dilemma, isn’t it?” He stood from his seat and
approached her. It delighted him how she sucked in a deep breath, and how
ragged it sounded from her parted lips.
Once in front of her, he took the wineglass from
her hands. The stunning clarity in her eyes mesmerized him. “Sit on the desk.
Do not cross your legs.”
Her eyes blazed with reservations, even as she
licked her lips. “Why?”
Smith
scanned over her long, beautiful neck, her silky skin stretching over her
hammering pulse. “We take our bets seriously and need to know what we’re up
against. It’s a lot of money to wager if it’s bound to fail.” He leaned down
into her face, his cock pressed against the zipper in his slacks. “Get on the
desk, Kyra.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
