For thirteen years, Tristan Blackthorn has searched for his lost love, Keira. Has the time for their reunion finally come?
When the ball-busting Patrice Wyngate figures out she's not happy, she does what she does best—takes control. Yet hearing, "Dance for me" completely changes her life, and nothing will be the same again.
For Zoe Harper, there would be no more dieting. The plain truth of the matter was, her no-good cheating boyfriend could kiss her size fourteen ass. Because quite simply, she found a man who was happy to show her Big Girls Do It Better.
Hadley Cooper, Eric Williams, and Jude Jamison had been best friends forever. Yet, at some point, their time living together would end, each of them finding "the one." Only, Eric and Jude had other thoughts. They intended to make Hadley understand—Three's Not a Crowd.
Be Warned: ménage sex (MFM), BDSM, floggers, spanking
Evernight Publishing: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/dark-tales-diaries-volume-three-by-london-saint-james/
Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27259379-dark-tales-diaries
Everyone knows heartache. This seems a harsh statement, yet it is the one fundamental truth all of us have in common. We may allow religious beliefs to separate us. Fall behind the dividing wall of the social classes. Have varying shades to our skin. Maintain different political views or sexual orientations. We may see the world through diverse eyes and hail from dissimilar backgrounds. However, the one thing each and every single one of us comes to understand-to live is to know pain. There's no escaping. Whether we know the sorrow and grief of losing someone we loved dearly, the disappointments of deceit and lies, or the devastation of a broken heart, all of us, no matter who we are, will eventually become acquainted with heartache. The question then becomes; what do we do to survive?
I placed my favorite Mont Blanc pen atop my scribbled thoughts, and stared out the office window. The setting sun backlit the city skyline in a splash of burnt umber. In just a few hours I'd be donning my Armani tuxedo and joining my audacious sister, as well my mother who flew in from France, in order to co-host the gala marking a milestone for the company Adelle and I run. The company my late father started forty years ago. But here's the thing. While most of the New York publishing world will be in attendance, armed with their celebratory faces and platitudes of well wishes, I'll be there going through the motions-forced to appear happy.
With a heavy sigh, I rolled my leather chair back from the desk. I wasn't in the mood to celebrate. Quite the opposite in fact. After the call I received earlier today from my P.I., informing me the lead on Keira's whereabouts was another dead end, all I really wanted to do was settle into my penthouse to read some of the newest submissions to Dark Tales Diaries, and drink single malt scotch until the words blurred upon the pages. This seemed the more appropriate thing to do since the date on the calendar also marked another occasion-thirteen years to the day since I last saw Keira.
I could still remember the facets sparkling in her aquamarine eyes. They were eyes so deep I could get lost within the depths of them. So sharp, they slayed me. So soft, they comforted me. Trust me when I say, I'm well aware thirteen years is a long time to be apart. Nonetheless, it seems only yesterday I was basking in her happy laughter. Tasted the sweetness of her lips. Felt her delicate body pressed firmly against mine. Heard her soft voice whispering naughty notions in my ear, and felt her warm breath gust across my skin. Yet, in other ways, every single minute of every single day of my unwanted separation from Keira has eroded at me like a slow drip of acid.
Squeezing the back of my tense neck, I wondered if perhaps I should listen to Wade, and call off any further investigation into Keira's disappearance. After all this time, how could I not consider it? Maybe my sister, Adelle, was right when she said Keira didn't want to be found and I needed to let my obsession go. Could I do that? Did I even want to give up? Or was I doomed to endlessly search for answers and an unobtainable dream?
Almost absentmindedly, I ran my fingers over the stack of mail which contained the words of so many, and plucked a pink envelope from the pile. I read the return address. Seattle, WA.
"Are you in there, Keira?"
Shaking my head, I sat the letter aside. I knew the truth. Regardless if I found the girl turned woman amongst the erotic tales of others or not, it didn't really matter. Simply because, what I was doing now, what I'd started with Dark Tales Diaries, was so much more than a possible means to finding her. It was my way of dealing with the loss-my way to survive.
Adult Excerpt from Dance for Me:
"Take off the dress."
I swallowed hard, reached for the side zip, and pulled the tab down. Next, I slipped my right arm free of the ruffle over my shoulder, allowing the soft material to fall, and stepped out of the dress. Heat infused my cheeks, because standing in front of a man and removing my clothes seemed bolder than I really was. Nonetheless, I walked in nothing but my panties and high heels over to where most of Damon's clothing was, putting my dress there, too.
"Goddamn." The way he said this sounded less a curse and more of awed praise for me. "Leave the panties and the heels on."
When I turned around, Damon held out a hand for me. I noticed he was sporting an impressive bulge beneath his suit pants, which made me smile.
I walked to him and took hold of his outstretched hand.
"Give me your other hand, too." I did, and he cuffed my wrists together. The inside of the cuffs were lined with what felt like wool-soft against my skin. "I'm going to attach these to that chain," he said, briefly glancing up overhead. Without wasting another moment, Damon checked the cuffs by running his fingertip along the top and bottom of them where the leather edge met skin, before he did what he'd said, securing my arms up over my head. I wasn't sure what he did behind me, I couldn't really see, but the chain attached to the cuffs rose, stretching my arms, and lifted me until my body was taut. However, my feet were still on the ground. "Good?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied.
Warm hands slid down my extended arms, shoulders, and followed the contour of my spine in a sensual glide that had me going instantly wet.
Damon walked around me, keeping his hands on my skin. In fact, he caressed me everywhere, from my ankles and calves, to my thighs, hips, and belly. I whimpered when he used his thumbs to swipe over my nipples and I closed my eyes as he worshiped my body with his touch.
Adored. This is what it felt like to finally be adored by a man.
"Perfection," he said near my ear, squeezing my ass. He pressed his bare chest into my bare back, fitting his hard package into my backside where his hands had been a moment earlier. "Spread those sexy legs apart for me a little bit." After I complied, Damon's strong arm came around my waist-hand resting on my lower belly, fingers splayed. "Tilt your head to the right."
As soon as I tipped my head to the side, his mouth nuzzled into my neck, follow by his tongue licking a path up to my ear. Heat curled low in my belly. When he took my fleshy lobe and sucked, his fingers dipped past the waistband of my tiny panties, slipped over my waxed-bare mound, and burrowed between my lower lips.
"Ooh…," I moaned when a long finger dipped into my tight opening.
"So nice and wet," he murmured. He brought his slick digit up, and circled my clit. "Let go, angel. Surrender and just feel."
With one of his big hands palming my left breast, fingers playing with my erect nipple, the other hand down the front of my panties toying with my clit, and the front of his hard body pressed against my back, I had no problem giving myself over to his sexpertise, completely.
My hips moved, ass bumping against his crotch. My body shivered and shook. Need coiled around me and my sex pulsed.
"Oh God." That fast he was going to make me come and come hard.
"That's it," he said, voice low and guttural. "Come for me."
I detonated. Starbursts went off behind my closed eyelids. I moaned, and my arms pulled at my restraints, fingers curling into my palms.
I'm not sure how long I floated in the aftershocks of bliss, but I came to my senses when his hands slipped free of me and I felt him move.
Turning my head, I saw him grab a flogger from the wall and come back. Two seconds later, he yanked my panties down. They hit my feet.
"Press your sweet ass out for me."
A moment after that, Damon swung the flogger in quick circular motions, tapping my bare ass, then down to the backs of my thighs, moving up to my ass once again. Little whips of sensation added to the orgasm I just had, and started building toward something I'd never felt before but always suspected I wanted-a bite of pain. Though, what he was doing wasn't pain. Not yet.
The supple leather tails of the flogger rained down on my shoulder blades and upper back. I squirmed. He worked me, over and over, gradually increasing the power behind the blows. But when the tails smacked against my butt once more, this time, I felt it. The glorious sting. I moaned, and pressed my bottom toward him in a needy offering for more.
I heard him speak four simple words.
"Dance for me, angel."
I danced-twisting and writhing, going up on my tiptoes, arms stretched above my head as he worked my flesh over.
This is what I'd been missing. What I needed. I fell into this type of zoned-out space-my body no longer tethered. I floated.
When I heard something drop, I came back to the grind of a zipper and the sounds of my own breaths.
Damon latched onto my hips-fingers biting deliciously into my flesh, and entered my sopping wet sex from behind in one, powerful thrust, filling and stretching me completely.
"Fuck," he muttered.
I felt his teeth bite into my upper arm. "Aah, yes!"
I came-pussy convulsing around his hard cock.
He took me without mercy, lifting me up off my feet, and fucking himself with my body. I was his, unable to do anything but enjoy the ride he was giving me. And it was a ride. Long, hard, and unyielding.
London Saint James is an award-winning, bestselling author. She lives in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee with her husband and their fat cat who thinks he owns them. You can find out more about London and her work on her website, www.londonsaintjames.com, her blog at http://londonsj.blogspot.com, or follow her on Twitter @LSJRomance.
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