Author: Geneva Lee
Genre: Erotica, Contemporary Romance, BDSM
Release Day: November 11, 2014
Alexander had the world at his feet and me on my knees...until secrets tore us apart.
I should stay away from him. I should run. But I'm addicted to him...to the pleasure and the pain.
He warned me about his dark side...about his past. But I have a past, too. Together we'll conquer our demons if we don't destroy each other first.
"Exactly," Belle said, pulling me from my fantasy. "You're drunk."
"And whose fault is that?"
"I just wanted you to loosen up, but I'm not sure—"
"I am," I interrupted her as we stepped to the front of the line. Behind us, I heard a mix of groans and cursing.
"Miss?" The bouncer crossed his arms, straining the seams of his already strained shirt. He tipped his head to the back of the line. Belle tugged at my arm while a few people whistled behind us.
I searched the man's face for a moment with a raised eyebrow. He was definitely the one that had opened the door for me when I fled from Alexander the night of our formal introduction. "I suppose you don't remember me. It's not wash day."
I smoothed my dress down suggestively and bit my lip for good measure. He studied me for a moment before slowly asking, "A guest of Mr. X?"
"You could say that." I fluttered my lashes, waiting for him to finally place me.
His eyes widened as he reached for the velvet rope that barred entrance to the club. "Of course. I'm sorry. Any guest of Mr. X—"
"I assumed," I purred. Sashaying past him, my hips swaying with my newly found confidence, I paused. "Is he here this evening?"
"I don't think so, Miss..."
"Clara," I corrected him. "Don't forget this time."
"I won't," he promised. His gaze traveled down my form one more time before he sighed and turned back to the line.
Belle grabbed my arm and spun me toward her, staring at me like I was an alien. "What the hell was that?"
"I've been here before," I reminded her.
She continued to gawk at me, but I saw the smirk playing at her lips. "You've never pulled that card before."
"What card?" I asked innocently.
"Don't be coy with me. The Alexander card. Or should I call it the X card?"
I shrugged. "Why shouldn't I pull it? I've had half of my life dug up and printed on the covers of magazines. I might as well skip the line."
"I'm not sure what to think of this new Clara Bishop," Belle said slowly. "Where did she come from?"
"Probably from half a bottle of bourbon," I said truthfully.
"Then let's get you another drink before she disappears." Belle laughed as she dragged me toward the bar. "I think I rather like her."
So did I. I hadn't felt this confident for a long time, but tonight I knew I was sexy and powerful and I wasn't afraid to show it. It could be the liquid courage, but the truth plucked at me from deep in my chest. I'd spent the last ten weeks believing that I'd been wrong about everything that had happened between Alexander and me. That it was all a lie. It wasn't reading his letters that made the difference now. It was knowing the truth. He wanted me. What happened between us had been real—might still be real. I wasn't still that stupid girl falling for a guy like Daniel, who had never cared about me. Although I wasn't sure my taste in men was getting any better.
Of course, Alexander's feelings were still up for debate. Maybe it was the bourbon heating my blood or the subliminal messages in his letters, but I had no doubt that he cared for me.
None of that meant that we could work things out. It just meant that I wasn't crazy. At least, I hoped it did.
Belle handed me a shot and I laughed to see her hair was already sticky on her scalp and her eyeshadow smudged. I probably didn't look much better actually.
"To the new Clara!" she shouted over the pulsing music of the club. I nodded and threw back the shot.
Belle grabbed my shooter and slammed it on the bar before pulling me out to the dance floor.
Brimstone took its name from hell, and it was nearly as hot in here. The floor was packed with a cluster of sweaty bodies fighting to the music, and every few seconds someone would crash into me. I didn't care. Belle and I danced closely together, drawing the attention of more than a few men around us. When a handsome blond pressed against me, circling hips into my backside, I grinded against him, lost to the music. It infected my blood and took control of my body. Belle stayed close, wrapping an arm protectively around my neck. I knew she wanted to let me know she was there if I needed an out, but that was the last thing on my mind. All I wanted to do was dance. I wanted to slip away into the pulsing storm of the music.
I wanted to be free.
How long would that last? I pushed the thought out of my head, refusing to let it affect my mood. The only thing that mattered was this moment, and it was nearly perfect.
It was only missing one thing.
I turned away from Belle and met the eyes of the stranger we were dancing with and waved to him, pushing back against Belle so that we could disappear into the crowd. He raised his hands, giving me a pitiful face, but I shook my head. He wasn't bad looking, but there was no way to pretend anyone could fill the hollow part of me. Suddenly, a hand yanked the man back.
Belle's fingers closed over my arm as Alexander stepped forward and shoved the stranger into the crowd. Before a fight broke out, a suited man appeared and guided the man I'd been dancing with toward the bar. The stranger threw glares over his shoulders but didn't resist.
If it weren't for Belle's fingers digging into my arm, I would have thought I was dreaming. I tugged away from her but didn't move toward him. Alexander and I stood there, separated by barely a breath, and stared each other down. His gaze pierced through me, igniting my already heated blood. Around us, strangers continued to dance and music pounded, but there was only him.
I glanced behind me, breaking eye contact for a precious second to allow myself a clear head. Belle raised her eyebrows and I gave her a reassuring smile. When I turned, he was still there. He wasn't a dream. He was flesh and bone. Blood and heat. Protector and tormentor.
My beautifully flawed X.
I was frozen to the spot. All he had to do was sweep me off my feet and throw me over his shoulder. I wouldn't resist him.
He didn't move. Instead, he extended his hand—a small gesture, but one laced with meaning. He was giving me a choice. I could accept his hand and walk out of here with him. Or I could turn away. But staring into his eyes, his hand outstretched and waiting, I knew the truth.
There was never a choice.
“I trust you.” In some ways those words held more meaning than any others I’d spoken to him.
He knew it. Alexander brushed a kiss across my mouth. The sweet gesture only ratcheted up the pulse between my legs. “Put your hands behind your back.”
I obeyed without protest. His arms slipped around me, pinning my wrists together before I felt lace wrapping slowly around them. He bound them together tightly enough that there was no chance I could pull an arm free but not so much that it hurt. A thrill raced from my stomach to my throat. A strange mixture of apprehension and elation swirled through my head. I bit my lip, trying to hold the dizzying effect he had on me at bay. For the first time, I didn’t simply want this—I needed it. I needed him to take command and make me forget all the fear and anger I’d felt earlier.
He stepped back and regarded me—legs spread wide on the counter, hands bound behind my back—and smiled. The darkness that always flickered in the depths of his beautiful eyes flamed to life.
“Now you have me where you want me,” I murmured, surprised at the sultry undertone of my own voice. I wasn’t entirely certain who this vixen was, but I was eager for her to come out and play—eager to let go.
But Alexander held back, clearly not as restless as I was, and shook his head. “Not quite, poppet.”
He slid open a drawer and removed a white kitchen towel. Shaking it open, he laid it on the counter and folded it longwise into precise thirds. When he lifted it to my face, there was a moment of hesitation. He didn’t ask my permission again. He only waited for me to say no, but I was silent. Tying it around my eyes, he whispered, “You still have your voice.”
Then he was gone. I sensed his presence and knew he was standing there surveying his prize. With my sight taken from me, I was aware of the sharp intake of his breath. The air felt cooler on my bare skin. Every inch of me felt alive.
“Beautiful,” he said in appreciative voice. “First, you will eat.”
I started to protest, but it was no use. There was no arguing with Alexander’s protective side. Beside me a bag rustled and I heard the metallic crunch of foil being torn away. An exotic aroma flooded my nostrils and I breathed in, trying to guess what he’d brought home for me. I was an adventurous eater, but I’d always known what was going into my mouth.
“Open your mouth.”
I did as he instructed and spice burst across my tongue. I chewed slowly, delicately. The flavors were Moroccan, I guessed, but although I’d had the cuisine before, I’d never savored it like this, deprived of my sight—deprived of even the ability to feed myself. When I was ready, he offered me another bite and another. Something about the act, so nurturing and yet so domineering, made the experience almost orgasmic. Each bite stole another moan of pleasure from me as the unexpected textures and flavors hit my palate.
“Are you ready for the next course?” he asked at last, and something in his tone sent anticipation fluttering through me.
I nodded, licking my lips.
His hands slid under my arms and he lifted me to my feet. “Kneel.”
As soon as the door slid shut behind us, Alexander was on me. I barely had time to register the familiar surroundings before he shoved up my skirt, crushing his lips against mine as we tangled together. I’d been in this room before, fighting my attraction to him. I’d come for an explanation and discovered something dark lurking behind his sexy, brooding facade. He had fascinated me then. He still fascinated me, but now my head spun from the bourbon and from the change of circumstance.
And from him. Oh god, from him.
My fingers clutched his hair as he pressed me to the wall, and I didn’t’t resist when he gripped my panties and tore them away. My sex reacted, swelling under his dominance, knowing exactly what came next. Everything about Alexander—his scent, the brush of the next-day stubble on his jaw, the firm grip of his fingers kneading into my hips—made me wet, as though my body had been conditioned to prepare for his cock.
But even as my body responded willingly, the tiny voice in my head tried to control me, too, reminding me of the risk I was taking. Alexander was fire—white-hot and blazing. His touch smoldered, igniting my body until my arousal couldn’t be contained. I would let him take me anywhere. Anytime. But playing with fire also meant getting burned, and Alexander had burned me before. There was no way I would walk out of here unscathed.
I wasn’t thinking clearly. I couldn’t think clearly—not with him around. Still one question kept peeking through the haze that clouded my judgment: why was he here? But with his lips on me, trailing down my neck until his teeth bit hungrily into my shoulder, I dido’t care. I was here with him, and for the first time in months, I felt complete.
I felt alive.
My skin even responded sensitively to his more chaste touches. The back of his hand caressing the length of my arm sent desire pooling between my legs. A brush of his lips across my cheek made me moan. We were as in tune as ever, but our connection was on overload. Too long had passed since we’d touched, and no lingering doubt or fear seemed capable of checking my body. I was drawn to him out of pure instinct and primal lust. I couldn’t say no to him now.
Because I couldn’t say no to myself.
“Do you remember the last time we were here, poppet?” The low rasp of his voice sent a tremor of anticipation running through me. “I wanted to pin you against the wall and fuck you until you begged me to stop.”
I whimpered as his hand slipped between my legs. I wanted him to fuck me now. Fuck me before I could talk myself out of it. Fuck me until I couldn’t remember how to beg. Fuck me hard until I forgot my objections.
Author: Geneva Lee
Genre: Erotica, Contemporary Romance, BDSM
When he kissed me, I was shocked. He was a stranger and still so familiar. It wasn't until I woke up to my picture splashed on the cover of tabloids that I realized I knew who he was.
Prince Alexander of Cambridge.
Royal bad boy.
Exiled heir to the throne.
He isn't Prince Charming. He's controlling. He's demanding. He's dangerous. And I can't say no to him.
We both have secrets—secrets that could tear us apart or drive us closer together—and as the paparazzi exposes each one, I have to decide just how far I'm willing to go for King and Country.
For readers 18 and up due to mature, erotic scenarios.
Formerly titled For King and Country
Geneva Lee prefers fantasy to reality, especially fantasies involving powerful, dangerous, and sexy men. You can find her devouring a good romance while avoiding the laundry and the children. She lives in Seattle with her family.