Shades of Pleasure: Five Stories of Domination and Submission Read online

  Shades of Pleasure: Five Stories of Domination and Submission

  by

  Tawny Taylor

  Published by Novel Mind Books

  Copyright 2012 Tawny Taylor

  All rights 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.

  What He Wants

  by

  Tawny Taylor

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  Billionaire Shane Trant is used to getting what he wants. What he can’t buy, he takes. When he sees Bristol Deatrich for the first time in over ten years, he knows he wants her. But there’s a problem. Only complete possession of her mind and body will satisfy him. He’s not sure the sweet little Bristol is ready for his brand of extreme carnal play.

  But that’s not going to stop him from trying. After all, he learned a long time ago, nobody wins if they don’t take risks. If this risk pays off, they’ll both win.

  SAMPLE

  He growled, hooked an arm around my waist and whirled around so I was flat against the wall and his body was holding me there.

  Oh. My. God.

  His mouth descended upon mine, his tongue shoved its way in, and within seconds, I was writhing against him while he kissed me into a coma.

  I felt him scoop me up into his arms. He was carrying me, walking, while our tongues mated and battled. I was losing the war, ready to surrender to him, to the fierce heat boiling in my veins, to the blinding need he’d sparked in my body. He broke the kiss, stared down at me with eyes full of male hunger. “I’m sorry, Bristol. I can’t let you go now. I can’t.”

  We kissed again, and again, as he carried me into the dungeon. At some point he set me on my feet, but I was too shaky to stand, and I wasn’t about to let him stop kissing me. I hung onto his neck, arms wrapped tightly, and lost myself in his aggressive, demanding, plundering kiss.

  I’d been kissed plenty of times, but never like that.

  Never like the man couldn’t get enough.

  Never like he was staking a claim.

  Never like he was conquering me.

  When the kiss ended--not my choice--I clung to him and fought to catch my breath.

  “Wow,” I murmured. My gaze started at his mouth but quickly moved to the closest piece of torture furniture. I felt myself backing up.

  “You’ve never been in a dungeon, correct?” he asked, hands sliding down my sides.

  “Never.”

  He blocked my exit with his hulking body, held me at the hips. “If I do something you don’t like, say, Red.”

  “Red?” I echoed, trying to wiggle my way free. I wasn’t ready for this. That kiss. It was the kiss’s fault I was in here. I didn’t belong here, no.

  He cut me off completely, cornering me against another wall, his body a giant obstacle I couldn’t push past. He caged my head between his hands, arms stretched out. His eyes were dark, hard. “You may beg me to stop, but I won’t. You may plead with me and cry, but I won’t stop. But if you say red, I will cease immediately.”

  “Red,” I muttered.

  His fingertip trailed down the side of my face, down my jaw, my throat to the center of my breastbone. I sucked in a deep breath and fought to regain my composure. But he was so big and so sexy and so intimidating, I couldn’t speak. “I promise I won’t be too hard on you this first time.” He closed his hands around my waist, forcing me deeper into the room.

  Ohmygod, what was happening? “On second thought--”

  He kissed me again. His tongue shoved its way into my mouth. It was a hard kiss, a feral one. I was swept up in pulsing waves of sensual heat, barely realizing I was being half-carried, half-shoved as we traveled through his torture dungeon. My head was going blank. I tried to repeat the word red in my head. Would I remember it? What if things got too intense?

  Red, red, red.

  When the kiss had finally ended, I found myself standing next to the table in the center of the room. He reached under it, pulling out a step stool. The table wasn’t very tall, maybe typical counter height. He patted the table top. “Let’s get you up here.”

  Red, red, red.

  Why couldn’t I speak? Why couldn’t I move?

  He picked me up and plopped me down. My legs dangled over the edge.

  Red, red, red.

  He eased my knees apart and stepped closer, and I realized, when his hips wedged between my thighs that the table was the perfect height for him to have sex standing up. A flood of warmth pulsed to my core. He caught my wrists, pinning them behind my back and gathering them into one hand. Now there was a hard lump grinding against my crotch and I couldn’t use my hands.

  Mmmmm. I liked it.

  I didn’t want to like it.

  I didn’t want to be in this scary place.

  I licked my lips, and his gaze locked on my mouth. “What do you want?” I whispered.

  The corners of his lips curled. “You’ll soon find out.

  Books by Tawny Taylor

  Wild Knights

  Wicked Knights

  Wanton Knights

  Wild, Wicked & Wanton

  Dark Master

  Decadent Master

  Dangerous Master

  Darkest Fire

  Darkest Desire

  Claim Me

  Wicked Beast

  Prince of Fire

  Girl Enslaved

  Dirty Little Lies

  Triple Stud

  Enslaved by Sin

  Double Take

  Behind the Mask

  Plays Well with Others

  Lust’s Temptation

  Wrath’s Embrace

  Burning Hunger

  Torrid Hunger

  Everlasting Hunger

  Slave of Duty

  Flesh to Flesh

  Compromising Positions

  Breathless

  Pleasing Him

  At His Mercy

  Ties That Bind

  Heart Throb

  Burn For You

  Her Lesson in Sin

  Touch of Fire

  His Dark Kiss

  Playing for Keeps

  Your Wicked Game

  Make Me Burn

  Make Me Shiver

  What He Wants (My Alpha Billionaire, 1)

  What He Demands (My Alpha Billionaire, 2)

  What He Craves (My Alpha Billionaire, 3)

  Yes, Master

  Chapter 1

  “I’m sorry, but I just locked the house up.” I said to the handsome man who’d just come strolling up my mother’s front walk. Selling the house had been an absolute nightmare. Not just because the building brought so many memories to the surface, but also because it wasn’t in the best of shape. It was a great house in a wonderful neighborhood. If only I could get just one person to see past all the ugly linoleum, godawful paneling, and circa 70’s shag carpet.

  Twisting to look over my shoulder, I shot the man--who happened to be well dressed and gorgeous--a quick smile. “But if you give me a minute, I’ll make a quick phone call and then let you in.”

  “I’d appreciate that. Thanks.” His voice was a low, rich rumble. For some reason, it resonated through my body, and the feeling of familiarity sparked inside me. Did I know this man?

  Once I had the lock engaged, I click-clacked out to my car, my pinched toes probably blistered, and flounced into the driver’s seat. I dug my phone out of my purse, and studied the strange man who didn’t seem to be a stranger as I called my best friend Jill to let her know I’d be a little late meeting he
r for lunch.

  Was the man another real estate agent, looking to list the house? Could be. His clothes were impeccable.

  A brief conversation--primarily ample apologies--and I had an extra forty-five minutes to not only figure out where I’d met the man before but also how to convince him to buy the house instead of sell it for me. I was getting seriously strapped, paying the utilities and property taxes on the place, in addition to my condo. Because of this silly need to cling to my childhood, I’d put off selling the place as long as I could. It was time to make something happen and move on.

  Determined I’d found the buyer for my mom’s place, I pasted on my best smile, fluffed my hair and headed back up to the front porch. As I unlocked the door, I said, “This house is a wonderful investment. It’s in a great location, on a dead end street. The neighborhood is excellent, a great place to raise a family.”

  “Hmmm.” The man walked inside. He moved with a rare fluidity for a male. I watched him as he wandered through the rooms on the first floor. Living room. Dining room. Kitchen (that was in dire need of a full gut job). The longer I studied him, the more I felt I knew him. Trying to concentrate on the house, I pointed out the beautiful, original hardwood floors, the baseboards and window and door trims, the lovely hand carved handrail.

  His wandering took us upstairs. He stopped outside of my mom’s bedroom and stared. It was then that I knew who he was.

  “Uncle” Shane.

  He wasn’t legally my uncle, no. That was just what I’d called him. I hadn’t seen him in...ten years, maybe. Since I was about twelve. Uncle Shane had been the subject of my first crush. Of course, he hadn’t known that at the time.

  “I can’t believe she’s gone,” he said.

  “Uncle Shane?”

  He scrutinized me closely, his intense gaze making me uneasy. “Of course. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. Bristol?”

  “Yes, that’s me.” I extended a hand. “It’s been a long time. A very long time. Good to see you again.”

  His hand enveloped mine. He shook it, stopped, but didn’t release it. His gaze was focused on my face. Sharp and intense. Assessing. “It’s good to see you again, too. Your mother was a good friend. I’m sorry I lost touch with her...and with you. I haven’t been in town for many years.”

  “I’m sure she understood.”

  “Yes, I’m sure I did. That was how Katherine was. Always understanding. Generous. Giving.”

  I couldn’t help saying, “Too generous sometimes. She nearly went bankrupt. And this house...it’s mortgaged for more than it’s worth. And you can see how well she kept it up. Mom always told me it didn’t matter, that the house was falling down around her. All that mattered was how many people she touched in her life.”

  His smile nearly took my breath away. For a man I guessed was within a handful of years of my mother’s age, he was strikingly handsome and fit. Ten years had done nothing to change that. His hair was very dark, almost black. Not curly. But not straight either. His features, as they had been then, were well balanced and masculine. Not pretty, but not too rugged either. And his body, from what I could tell, was also still in great shape. Shoulders broad. Waist narrow. His black jacket fit him perfectly, as if it had been sewn just for him. Same with the pants. The white shirt was a stark contrast against the jacket and the honey brown color of his skin. The only thing a decade had done was add a sprinkling of silver hairs glinting at his temples, just enough to make him look sexy and distinguished.

  “Katherine Deatrich was a one-of-a-kind woman.” He turned, facing me. “Why are you selling the house?”

  “I can’t afford the mortgage payments or the upkeep, and it’s too big. I live alone...unless you count my cat.”

  “I see.” He reached up, caught a curl that had flopped over my face and tucked it behind my ear. For some reason, the intimate touch sent me careening back into that old place, back into the childhood crush. Our gazes tangled, and my heart did a little hop in my chest. “I can’t get over how much you’ve changed.”

  “Kids do that,” I said, holding my breath.

  “They do. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  He shook his head. “Damn. Where’s the time gone?”

  Still feeling a little wobbly, I shrugged. “I couldn’t say.” I motioned to the bedroom. “Erm, the master bath is a nice size.”

  “Oh, yes. The house.” He glanced around, almost as if he’d forgotten where he was. “I’ll take it. What are you asking?”

  My insides did a flip flop. Could it be I’d just sold the house? Or was he just playing with me? “Three forty-nine, nine. That’s the balance of the mortgage. I’m not making a penny from the sale.”

  “No agent?”

  “No, I didn’t want to have to pay another five to ten percent out of pocket. The closing costs alone are going to kill me.”

  “I’ll have my attorney draw up the papers and schedule the closing with the title company.”

  This couldn’t have gone any better. It was honestly too good to be true, which made me a little nervous. Thankfully, my best friend was an attorney. She’d offered to handle the closing for me pro bono. “I already have someone.”

  “Fine.” He reached in his inside jacket pocket, pulled out a card. “I’ll be expecting a call then.”

  “Do you need time to secure financing?” I asked. My fingertips brushed his as I took the card from him.

  “No, I’ll be paying cash.”

  Cash. I couldn’t imagine paying three hundred fifty thousand dollars cash for anything. “Wonderful! We’ll be seeing each other soon, then.”

  “Soon.” He took my hand again, and little buzzing electrical charges seemed to zap between us. I couldn’t believe it. After all this time, ten years, there was still something there. I wondered if he felt it too. “Goodbye, Bristol. It was a nice surprise, running into you today.”

  * * * * *

  Three weeks later, I slid a cashier’s check into my purse.

  Jill congratulated me with a sparkly-faced grin. “How are you feeling, now that the house is officially gone?”

  “Relieved.” An understatement.

  “Excellent. Want to go celebrate?” she asked, smoothing a few stray away amber hued hairs that had slipped out of her slick bun. “I have a few loose ends to wrap up, but I can be ready to go in about an hour.”

  “Sure. Okay. I guess...” I said, following her from the building. “I could go run a few errands while I wait.”

  “Cool. See you soon.” She tossed her briefcase into her sparkly new Subaru, and climbed in. I threw her a wave before unlocking the door to my trusty old Toyota. As I was pulling it open, a car pulled up behind mine and parked. Out of habit, I glanced at it.

  The door opened and a man stepped out.

  A man I recognized.

  Oh God, please tell me he isn’t having buyer’s remorse already.

  I smiled, though it probably wasn’t one of my brightest.

  “I was hoping I’d catch you,” he said as he strolled toward me.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that.” He leaned against my car’s trunk, and immediately I regretted not having washed the car in weeks. Those impeccable black pants weren’t going to look so impeccable in a minute. “I was wondering if you’d like to go to dinner?”

  “When?”

  “Tonight? Now?”

  “Oh, I...” Have plans. But what the hell? “I think that’ll be okay. But I need to make a call first.”

  “Sure. You can do that while we’re driving.” He reached around me, pushing my car door closed. My nerves buzzed at his nearness. Wow, was there some serious chemistry there.

  I hit the button on my key fob, locking the doors and followed him to his car. Nice car. Black. Sleek. BMW. And it smelled really nice inside. Like leather and expensive cologne and man. He got the engine purring while I buckled in. And within moments, we were backing out of the parking spot.


  “I hope you enjoy the house,” I said as I fished in my purse for my phone. “It really is a wonderful old building. With some TLC, it could be spectacular.”

  “I have big plans for the place.” He smiled as he steered the car through the parking lot. “I hope you’ll come see it when the renovations are finished.” At the driveway, he hit his turn signal, waiting for a break in traffic.

  “I’d love to. I’m just glad the house has gone to someone who could see its full potential.”

  “That’s one thing I’ve always been good at--seeing the full potential of things...and people.” He turned his attention to me. “But in your case, I vastly underestimated you. I knew you’d grow up to be a beautiful woman. But I had no idea you’d be so stunning.”

  My cheeks warmed. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Turning his focus back on the road, Shane hit the gas and we zoomed out onto the clogged street.

  “You know--this is embarrassing, and I don’t know why I’m telling you, but what the hell?--I had a crush on you when I was a kid.”

  His grin was charming and genuine. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “But I was an old man.”

  “Older but not old. And charming. And nice. And you talked to me like I was an adult.”

  We pulled up to a light, and he glanced at me. “You were always mature for your age.”

  “Being the only child of my mother, it would be impossible for me to be otherwise.”

  He chuckled. The light turned green, and once again, we were humming along, zigging and zagging through traffic. “I could see that. The truth was, I respected you.”

  “Respected?” A twelve year old? That surprised me.

  “And now that we’ve reconnected, I respect you even more.” He turned the car into a parking lot. Maggiano’s. I’d eaten there before. “Is this okay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He parked and we headed inside. We shared a plate of spinach dip and drank wine and exchanged compliments. He told me about the wife he’d lost while he’d been living in Spain (Spain!), and the children he’d never had. The joys of his life and regrets. And I told him about losing Mom, finishing school, and the bumpy start to my career. The chemistry kept building and building with each minute we spent together. By the time our stomachs were full and our wine glasses empty, I was hoping I’d get a kiss, a real one with hands grasping and tongues twining.