Chapter 1
The next two days were spent wrapped in the sensual cocoon Fergus wove around me. Over and over again, he reached for me, drawing me under him before mounting me and tapping into my deeply hedonistic nature. Several times, I had been confronted by the alpha knot at the base of his cock, but each time he had suppressed it. It was an angry, fearsome thing, and I knew if he forced it inside me, I would be split asunder.
I was sleeping, sprawled across his body, when he maneuvered me onto my back, growling low and seductively. My body had come to respond in a very visceral way. Fergus’s mouth descended onto mine, capturing it as he surged forward. I was unprepared for the sharp pain as the strength of his thrust forced the unsuppressed knot up inside me. I screamed into his mouth as my pussy tightened around him in a new way.
He held me tight, preventing evasion on my part, then stilled. My pussy clamped down as he kissed me and murmured words of love and encouragement. How could he talk of love to me? I feared I had lost myself to him, wanting to believe, but I knew better. I was merely one of the spoils of war. My sheath began to relax and accommodate his knot…
The buzzer from the front gate to her rambling mansion on North Carolina’s Outer Banks interrupted her stream of free-flowing writing.
“Shit!” she groaned, picking up her cell phone and pulling up her security system’s app.
Her publisher, Gail Vincent, was looking in the camera with a pinched look on her face. Gail often had a sour expression. She glanced at the antique mantle clock on her desk. And shit again! It was only eight in the morning.
They’d been together a long time. It had been Gail who had given Sage her first big break and taught her the ropes of becoming an author. Gail who had often believed in her when she didn’t believe in herself. The relationship had changed as Sage had become more confident and more successful and no longer relied as heavily on Gail’s advice.
Sage Matthews answered her cell, an embarrassed smile on her face. “Hi, Gail. Uhm… I’m not ready.”
“I figured.” Gail fussed, not able to hide the roll of her eyes. “That’s why I came early. Did you look at the things I sent over?”
“Well, uhm, no…”
“For God’s sake, Sage, open the damn gate. You seriously need a keeper—someone who stays out here and takes care of you.”
“I have a housekeeper. Selma comes in once a week with her husband, Jerry. She cleans the inside while he does the outside,” she said, pressing the button that would open the gate.
“Why on earth did you have to move to the middle of fucking nowhere? Why not stay in D.C., maybe get a place in Georgetown? Or Chicago? You always like it when we go to Chicago. Better yet, a nice loft in New York, maybe either in SoHo or Tribeca.”
“I like my house, Gail. It’s quiet, I can ramble around, and if I want to play music and dance around naked at three in the morning, there’s no one to tell me no. I even have a private beach.”
“That you won’t let me take advantage of and throw an exclusive party. If you’re going to have the damn thing, you should at least make use of it for your business. On my way…” Gail said as she drove her rented Mercedes up the drive.
Sage saved her paranormal novel and pulled up the latest Roark Samuels.
They were back in the beach cottage in Monaco. There were no more kidnappers or assassins… just Melinda in a summery dress outside the glittering international Mecca known as Monte Carlo. Earlier in the day, Roark Samuels had killed the two assassins sent to dispose of the beautiful heiress. It was time she learned the consequences of not following orders… specifically his. Roark grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her over his muscular thighs. Pinning her in place with one hand, he pressed her shoulder blades down. Using his other, he rucked up the light, flimsy summer frock she was wearing, then caressed her shapely, ivory bottom.
Raising his hand, he brought it crashing down on her upturned backside. Melinda yowled and cursed at him, but Roark was enjoying what he was quite certain was a long, overdue punishment for her actions. Over and over, he spanked her rapidly-coloring globes and could feel her cool skin beginning to heat from his harsh strikes.
“Such a pretty bottom. Shame it has to get turned a bright shade of red because you couldn’t do what you were told. When I get done with your spanking, it’s going to feel really good when I’m pumping my hips into it as I give you a good, hard fucking.”
“Roark, you sonofabitch, let me go!” she cried.
“Now, now, Melinda. Good girls accept their punishment when they’ve been naughty. Running away from home, then getting us into this situation, definitely qualifies as naughty.”
With that admonishment, Roark continued to inflict a considerable amount of pain across her backside. Silence, except for the sound of his hand spanking her ass and the constant roar of the surf outside, filled the room. The longer and harder he spanked her, the stiffer his cock became. Melinda needed this spanking almost as much as he needed to give it to her.
“You think you can apologize to me and behave yourself?”
“Yes, please stop, Roark. I’m sorry,” she said meekly.
He smiled. The sound of a woman’s submission was sweet. He rubbed her reddened globes to acknowledge her acceptance of his dominance. When she tried to rise, he fisted her hair, dragging her up and bending her over the end of the bed he’d been sitting on. Without another word, he unfastened his pants and allowed his cock to jut away from his groin through the open fly. Stepping behind her, he spread her legs.
Roark guided his cock to her sheath before thrusting forward ferociously, forcing himself deep within her core and extracting a powerful climax from her. He grunted with satisfaction. He held her in place, wrapping one hand tightly around her hip and using the other to grasp the nape of her neck to press her down into the mattress as he took long, deep strokes.
Each time he drew back, the loss of being buried in her wet heat made him crave plunging back into her depths. Each time he drove forward, he swore he could feel the end of her sheath with the head of his shaft. He knew there was no escape for her from his relentless thrusting. He needed her to accept he was the one doing the fucking, and she was the one being fucked.
Roark’s cock stroked her over and over as he grunted and groaned in feral and primal satisfaction. Her body convulsed, her pussy contracting all along his length in the same rhythm that stroked her heated channel. He could feel her capitulation to his pleasure as well as to his dominance.
“Come for me!” he bellowed like an enraged bull as he thrust in and out.
She screamed his name as she toppled over the edge of ecstasy. He thrust into her three more times before his cock erupted, emptying his essence into her. When he was finished, he withdrew, his cock dripping the last of his seed.
Jesus, Roark, you’re such a bastard, thought Sage.
Roark Samuels was the romantic hero of Sage’s wildly popular erotic suspense series. The first book had been meant to be a standalone novel. When it shot to the top of all the best seller lists, her publisher, Gail Vincent, demanded she make it into a series. Now, her readers wouldn’t allow her to bring it to an end.
She often remarked she spent more time with Roark than with anyone else. The success of the novels wasn’t all sunshine and lollipops. The better they sold, the higher the demand, which had taken its toll on her personal life. It was odd how some of the very best things in life grew out of the worst.
Sage had been working for a conservative D.C. law firm and had a perfectly lovely fiancé and future all planned out. The problem came when she began reading erotic romance books. Some of them were wonderful—putting her in touch with a side of herself she’d never known and giving wing to her fantasies. Others had been severely lacking in both the quality of the writing and the editing.
She’d written her first novel on a lark and been shocked and thrilled when it had done well. Thinking it might be an excellent source of income to pay for their wedding, Sage had taken on her new hobby with a vengeance, spending copious amounts of time writing—often to the detriment of her relationship with her former fiancé, Derek. In retrospect, it was easy to see why when she’d been asked to leave the law firm, Derek had cited the same reasons, that he felt they would both do better if they called off their engagement.
John Quillen, the managing partner with the firm, had held up one of her novels as he’d faced her from across his desk.
“Is this your book?” he’d asked, staring down his nose at her. Sage had nodded. “Then I feel, Ms. Matthews that the firm has no choice but to ask for your resignation.”
“But why? I didn’t portray the firm in an unkind light. In fact, the book doesn’t even have a single lawyer in it.”
“Nevertheless, there are those who know you wrote it…”
Sensing there would be no way to dissuade them, Sage had said, “Well of course they do, my name is right there on the cover.”
“Apparently you do not see how this kind of smut reflects poorly on the firm. You may resign and we will provide you an adequate reference or we will terminate your employment and will not comment at all on your tenure here when future employers call asking for a reference. I’m sure you realize that no reference carries almost the same stigma as a bad one.”
“I’ll pack my things and leave my resignation on my desk.”
And
“They fired you?” asked Derek when he’d arrived home in the townhouse they’d shared. “Good God, Sage, I warned you. We stretched to afford to buy this place. I damn near wiped out my savings for the down payment. We can’t afford for you to be out of work.”
“I know. I didn’t mean for it to happen, and Gail thinks I could probably be making more if I had more time to write. I was going to talk to you about it after the wedding.”
Derek had leaned over and said, “Look I thought it was a bit of a lark and would help bring in some extra money, but I warned you it was best to have a pen name. I never thought the damn thing would actually become a best seller.”
She’d reached across the dinner table to place her hand over his. Derek had drawn back, placing both of his hands in his lap.
He continued, “Maybe we ought to take a break and rethink what we both want for our future.”
His cold demeanor had rocked her back harder than her dismissal from the law firm. Truth to tell, there had been a part of her that had been excited to give the full-time author thing a try.
“A break? As in postponing the wedding?” Derek had nodded. “Are you planning to move out?”
“No, I paid most of the down payment. I can dip into my retirement to buy your interest out.”
“So,” Sage said narrowing her eyes and beginning to grasp the true enormity of the day’s events, “you don’t want to postpone the wedding, you want to call it off and kick me out.”
“I wouldn’t put it like that…”
“Of course, you wouldn’t. Not to worry Derek, I’ll have my things packed and be gone before you get home tomorrow. If I don’t have my share of the down payment wired to my account by the end of the day, you’ll hear from my attorney and I will come after you for breach of promise, the townhouse and anything else he can think of.”
“There’s no need to get vindictive, Sage.”
“I disagree. I think there’s every reason.” She stood up from the dinner table. “I think you should go to a hotel tonight. I’ll get started packing and will be gone from your life by this time tomorrow.”
“You might be right. I wish you well, Sage.”
“Get out, Derek. I’m glad I found out what a cowardly bastard you were before I married you.”
He’d thrown a few things in his overnight bag and had exited her townhouse and her life within thirty minutes.
Sage had called a friend who was on an extended cruise and arranged to borrow her home for a few weeks. Lydia lived in Charlotte, North Carolina, and Sage found the Southern charm, hospitality and lower cost of living was like a balm to her soul. Derek had repaid her portion of the down payment plus interest and half of what they’d paid on joint purchases for their home. She’d wanted to throw it back in his face, but her more practical nature took over.
Looking to start anew, Sage had begun scouring the real estate ads for the Outer Banks of the Carolinas. If she was going to build a new life, she would do it in a place she loved to be. Over the years she had remodeled not only the house but her very existence. Her author persona had become far removed from who she really was, but the façade of the successful writer paid the bills, it had allowed her to renovate the rambling mansion on the Outer Banks of North Carolina and pay off the mortgage. She was seen as a hard-driving, dominant woman who lived alone and liked it that way—yet nothing could have been further from the truth.
Sage laughed as she read the next to the last scene, taking a sip of Diet Coke and popping a piece of caramel corn in her mouth. Standing, she stretched, then trotted out of what had once been a solarium when her home had been built in the late 1800s. It was one of the first remodeling projects she’d taken on, much to her contractor’s dismay. Sage had converted it into her office and had all the glass replaced with glass that could withstand a hurricane. Not only did Sage love to write there when the sky above was clear and sunny with billowy clouds overhead, but she adored it even more when the weather was dark and stormy. But then, Sage was something of a storm child.
“Hey, Gail!” she said, entering the foyer just as Gail stomped in.
“Please tell me you took a shower and washed your hair…”
Sage shook her head and grinned. “Nice to see you, too.”
“For God’s sake, Sage, you have a signing at the Huntington. We need to get there and get you set up.”
“The signing isn’t until tomorrow. I’ll get up early in the morning…”
“Do you even read the attachments to the emails I send you?”
“I read the emails,” Sage said sheepishly.
Gail rolled her eyes again. “There is a reception this evening, then you’re hosting a Meet the Author breakfast, you have a panel with some of the other more notable authors, lunch, then the VIP signing, followed by the regular one. You need to get dressed in something presentable,” Gail said as she steered Sage up the grand staircase toward the master bedroom.
“How about if you take the books and swag now? I’ll get dressed and drive in by myself. You always like it when I make an entrance with the roadster.”
Gail nodded, and Sage sensed she might be able to avoid a seven-hour tirade about how awful North Carolina was and how ungrateful Sage was for all Gail did. The fact was, Sage was grateful, but always kept in mind Gail was well paid for her services. She had long ago come to the conclusion that Gail was over-stressed and a complete control freak. Since most of the time that worked in Sage’s favor, she usually just put up with it.
In the beginning and not knowing what to do, she had depended on Gail for just about everything. When she and Derek had split, Gail had gone to work ensuring that Sage would have a successful career as a writer. Gail had been willing to bet on her future success, figuratively and literally-often loaning Sage money or allowing her bill to slide for a month or two.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful for all Gail had done; it was just that Gail had wanted her to continue to do the same thing and saw no need for change or to continue to advance her career past a certain level. Sage had disagreed and increasingly found herself in conflict with Gail.
“I promise to be there by six-thirty, then I’ll change in the room. I’ll even let you pick out my clothing for the event.”
“Who the hell else would do it? You really need a personal assistant—someone to run your schedule, pack for you, make appointments, run errands, etc.”
“I like living alone,” Sage said quietly.
Gail stopped and put a hand on her arm. “I know Derek leaving you was a shock. I hope he realizes what an idiot he was. Leaving before he married you and you made it big was just stupid.”
“I’d like to think he would have married me because he loved me, not just for the possible divorce settlement, but I guess I have to appreciate that he recognized he couldn’t handle it and broke it off.”
“Appreciate?” Gail snorted. “The little weasel got embarrassed…”
“My books aren’t for everybody, Gail, and I respect that. In any event, I have all the books and swag ready to go.”
“Fine. It’s probably better if you just swoop in. That ought to intimidate the other authors…”
“I don’t want to intimidate people…”
“Why ever not? It allows you to command respect and kowtowing from the hotel, and it lends to your aura as the fabulous and slightly mysterious romance author.” Gail made short work of packing her clothing. “I’m going to leave your makeup here and arrange for someone to get you ready for tonight and in the morning.”
Eight hours later, Sage pulled up to the hotel in her vintage Rolls Royce roadster at precisely six-thirty. It had been her big splurge when her first Roark Samuels novel had hit big. The antique mansion was the second. It was a good thing they continued to sell well since both were damned expensive to keep up.
The concierge rushed out to greet her. “Ms. Matthews, how lovely to see you again. Ms. Vincent told us to expect you. Can I have your car parked and show you to your room?”
“Thank you so much,” she said. Sage turned on a brilliant smile and waved as she walked over to the small crowd of readers who had gathered.
“Hi, guys! I have to run up to my room to get ready for the party, but I’m happy to sign anything you want when I come back down and during or after the party.”
“Sage? Is Roark ever going to fall in love… really in love?” called one.
“Yeah, Roark needs his own happily ever after,” said another.
“I’m not sure Roark knows anything about love other than how to spell it, although it isn’t his favorite four-letter word. See y’all later,” she called as the concierge bustled her inside and accompanied her to her suite on the ground level.
Gail met her at the door and ushered her inside, closing the door in the concierge’s face.
“Gail, that was rude,” Sage said quietly.
“The concierge is fine, and we need to get you ready. I got here early enough to pick up something for each of us for tonight. I found you the most beautiful LBD…”
“LBD?”
“Little Black Dress. It will be very slimming. Then, when I thought about what I brought, they would have clashed in style, so I picked up something for me.”
Sage hid a knowing smile. Gail often found ways to justify Sage picking up the tab for something she wanted for herself. Sage allowed herself to be led to where the makeup artist and hairstylist were waiting and sat so they could begin their work.
“I’m going to lay out your dress and accessories. I have a key to your suite, so you won’t need anything. I’ve arranged for them to run a tab for you all weekend, so all you need to do is sign. I don’t want you to have to carry anything with you. You’re so awkward when you try to manage a cocktail clutch and anything else.”
“Thanks, Gail. You go on. I’ll be fine, and I promise to be on time.”
“Not on time, Sage, thirty minutes late.” Gail leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I’ve arranged for one of the cover models to wait for you outside the door to be your plus one at the party. He’s promised to be most attentive.”
Sage rolled her eyes. I wonder what that’s going to set me back? Gail often spent Sage’s money like water through a sieve, but Gail’s publicity and marketing had been an integral part of the success of the novels. So usually, Sage just took a deep breath and paid the bills.
As requested, Sage was thirty minutes late and smiled when she saw the model. Terrance had never graced the cover of one of her novels, but over the years they had become friends. Oddly, Roark had always been an illustration as opposed to a photo.
“Hey, Sage,” he said, taking her arm and leaning down to kiss her cheek.
“Terrance, it’s good to see you. How’s Max?”
“He’s great. We really enjoyed the murder mystery train tickets.”
“Oh, good. I thought you might. I know it’s kind of geeky…”
“And we’re your favorite nerdy gay couple,” he laughed.
Terrance was good company, and Sage was glad that if Gail felt she had to have arm candy, she had at least picked someone enjoyable.
They entered the party, which was already in full swing. As these things went, it was well organized and pretty swanky. Everyone was dressed to the nines, although no formal wear. Hotel staff had been pressed into service, not only serving drinks and hors d’oeuvres but staffing a table at the back where a selection of the attending authors’ books was set up and being sold.
“It looks like only four of us have books available,” Sage said.
Terrance laughed. “Only those of you who sponsored the party have books available. Honestly, Sage, do you even pay attention to what Gail signs you up for?”
“Not really.”
She and Terrance mingled with the throng of admirers. This was Sage’s second favorite part of being a successful author. Unlike for many authors who were painfully shy introverts, signing events were Sage’s crack cocaine. She absolutely loved connecting with her readers on a personal level. Her favorite was the messages from readers about how her work had touched them, inspired them, entertained them. Knowing there were those who appreciated, even treasured what she did, made the doing all that much sweeter, and what it had cost her—a fiancé, a job, friends—was worth it.
Gail shouldered her way through the crowd gathered around her and Terrance.
“Sweetie, there’s a few people I need you to meet,” she said to Sage, leading her away.
Sage turned back to those who had books and pens in their hands. “I’ll be back and stay as long as you want me to sign your books. You can ogle Terrance all you want, but no touching.”
Terrance grinned at her and was quickly surrounded.
“I don’t know why you bother with those people…”
“Because they buy my books, because they took their hard-earned money and time to attend this event, and because without them, I wouldn’t be able to make a living doing something I love.”
Sage spent the next two hours rubbing elbows with some of the elite of the publishing world. Gail wanted to expand her readership beyond erotic romance and was even shopping one of her ideas around for a movie. There was a touch on her shoulder, and she spun around, the color leaving her face.
“Hello, Sage.” She recognized Derek’s voice.
“Derek. I’m surprised to see you,” she said, keeping her voice devoid of emotion.
“You look good.”
“I’ve gained some weight. You look great.”
He really did, but then he always did. He woke up looking perfect. All he had to do was run his hands through his perfectly cut hair and it fell into place—unlike hers, which looked as if she’d just gotten laid… not that that was necessarily a bad look.
He leaned forward, kissing her cheek. Sage was relieved to realize that not only did it not hurt, but it was also oddly devoid of emotion. She was finally over him. She had gone from love to hate and now finally, to apathy.
“Given why you broke things off between us, I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Well, Gwen actually rather enjoys these kinds of events. One of our clients has acquired a small studio and is talking to Gail about one of your books being made into a movie… one of the earlier books before they got so smutty.”
Zing! He couldn’t help himself… neither could she.
“Doesn’t Gwen read the smutty ones?” asked Sage, feigning innocence.
Zing! Bullseye, she thought as he blushed. Hmm, Roark would never blush. She wondered if she could even embarrass a man like Roark. She didn’t actually know any men like Roark, but she was quite certain that they didn’t blush.
She was glad to see she’d hit her mark. His girlfriend, Gwen, was an avid reader and participant in her private reader group on Facebook. Gwen was also a lawyer and on track for partner, which she guessed was the real reason Derek had broken things off between them. There was a part of her that knew she should feel bad about being a bit bitchy, but this was her party, and she wasn’t going to take crap from her ex.
She allowed Gail to move her through those she wanted Sage to meet, whispering in her ear who each person was and why they were important.
“Cindy Sellers, huge erotic romance blog. Always features our books and gives them stellar ratings on Goodreads, Bookbub, and all the retail platforms,” Gail whispered. “Named you erotic romance writer of the year.”
“Cindy! It’s so good to see you. I can’t thank you enough for all your support… and for naming me Erotic Romance Author of the Year. I was so touched.”
“My pleasure, Sage, and I totally meant it. The bottle of wine was so sweet and so like you.”
She’d have to remember to thank Gail for that.
Finally, the party started to die down and she looked for Terrance, who was surrounded by those who had waited. Sage hailed one of the servers.
“Ms. Matthews?” she said. “I just love your books.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. If there’s one you’d like in paperback, just go grab it and I’ll sign it for you.”
“Really? Thanks! Now, what did you need?”
“See that group of readers with Terrance? Could you get their drink orders? See if you could also snag us a tray of hors d’oeuvres and put it on my tab?”
“I can do that. That’s so sweet of you. You’re not like most of them. You really seem to like your readers.”
“I don’t like my readers… I adore them. Join us if you can.”
The server glanced at her watch. “I can do that. My shift just ended. I’ll get you…”
“Us.”
The girl’s smile broadened. “Us set up.”
Two hours later, the room was empty except for Sage, Terrance, and the last of the readers. When she’d signed the last book and received the last hug, they left the ballroom.
“Terrance, I’m going to take a stroll outside. It’s really a lovely night.”
“Want some company?”
“No, you go upstairs to Max and give him my love.”
Terrance grinned, held up the wine bottle Sage had pressed into his hands, and left. She waved off the concierge and headed outside to one of the hotel’s courtyards.
Pew! Snap! Pew! Snap!
Sage heard the sounds as pieces of bark from a nearby tree flew into her face. She dropped and rolled as another two bullets skimmed past where she had just been standing and embedded themselves in the tree. Rolling away, she got to her feet behind a dense cluster of bushes and ran toward the main hotel, screaming her head off.
The next sounds she heard were the tromping of footsteps and shouts of security people. Sage was hustled inside via a side door and immediately surrounded by hotel personnel who assured her that she was safe, and that the police had been called.
“Gail…” she started, realizing she was in shock.
“Sage, oh my God, Sage! I’m right here.” Gail rushed to her side.
Thank God was right. Thank God for Gail, who swiftly took control of the situation and helped her file reports with the police, ensured her room was secured, asked the hotel to station additional security in and around Sage’s suite, then helped Sage back to her room.
“Are you sure you’re all right? Do you want me to order room service? The kitchen was about to close, but they said they’d be happy to make something to send up to you,” Gail offered.
“That would be great. If I could get a big bowl of their cream of crab soup, a loaf of that bread they serve with lots of butter, and a couple of diet cokes, I would be so appreciative.”
Gail ordered room service and stayed while Sage changed into her robe and the food arrived.
“If you’re sure you don’t need anything else…”
“No, thanks, Gail. I really appreciate it. I think I might have been in shock. I don’t really recall much of what happened.”
“These local yokels aren’t all that sure. They think probably kids out doing a bit of night shooting mistook you for something else. One idiot thinks someone was shooting at you.”
“At me? Why would anyone want to shoot at me?”
“Who knows? I think things are probably so boring around here, he’s just trying to make up something exciting. I’m sure it was just a couple of kids being stupid…”
The fog from the fear seemed to be dissipating. “But why would kids be shooting pistols with silencers in the dark?”
“What makes you think they had silencers?” asked Gail.
“There was no actual sound of a gunshot… you know, like a bang or the backfire of a car. All I heard was a kind of a weird spitting sound and pieces of the tree being chipped off by the bullets.”
Gail laughed. “Who knows what silliness kids will get up to. They probably scared themselves more than you. Go easy on the bread and butter, will you?”
“Sure.” Sage rolled her eyes. “Thanks again,” she said, following Gail to the door and securing the night latch before double-checking the door that led to the private terrace.
She sat at the table and enjoyed her meal, devouring every bit of bread and dollop of butter. Heaven.
After she finished, she checked the doors again, then headed into the bath. She turned on the shower before getting out of her robe and taking a critical look at her body. She really did need to lose a few pounds, but hot artisan bread and butter was something not to be missed. Her relationship with food wasn’t always healthy. Many times, she used it to comfort or soothe some part of herself, but she did try to keep an eye on her weight. Besides, someone had tried to shoot her, regardless of whether they thought she was some kind of varmint. She deserved a little indulgence.