Author: Kailee Reese Samuels
Genre: Dark New Adult Romance
Published: 11 June 2017
She needs to escape.
His assistant hired me on a whim, thinking I would be just what he needed. Boy, was she right. I bounced into his dressing room and discovered the famous actor held dual personalities – a nasty player and the naughty gentleman.
I won’t say which one I fell in love with but when I least expected it, the bastard broke my heart. Now, fifteen years later, the last man to break me is the only one who can save me.
His heart takes her captive.
After an intense twelve-week love affair, I lost the only girl I ever loved—all to save her—to keep her safe. What she doesn’t know is I’ve been watching her every move, guarding her from a dangerous world she knows nothing about.
Keeping secrets for so long with only a promise, the wall I built around her crumbles to the ground. In the ruins, the only question that remains is… Will she still answer to me?
Ride or die in the love affair of Mae East and Cyclone Blonde.
My sister’s cabin is isolated in the woods. Everything is quiet. I insure this with a glance at the cams Sal installed a few years back. Boy wired this place to be a freaking militia bunker. He always goes into overkill mode. He says he’s prepared, and I ask what for, but the only response he ever gives is, “Rain.”
I have no worries if someone gets past the gate, they will be met with his maniacal arsenal of extreme tortures. It’s not pretty. Kid’s got game, I’ll give him that. Even if he is a sick, twisted fuck.
Standing between the kitchen and living space, Amber lowers her head, waiting. I can’t believe she didn’t resist me at all. I am surprised and flattered by her willingness to bend, and I am completely aware that if she didn’t want to, she wouldn’t have. Let it never be said that Amber Rosen cannot be difficult at times. She can. She is just choosing not to be right now.
Grabbing a rope from the storage closet, I weave her wrists together in an elaborate shibari loop. Her breathing is heavy, but she doesn’t dare look up at me. She knows better. I desperately want to know how wet she is, but I restrain my selfish needs a little longer, better to make her hold out.
I escort her naked body over to the table where she sits down. From her bag, I grab a clip and twist her hair, securing it firmly in place. She is a gorgeous woman, and damn near perfect submissive. Her posture is elongated and elegant with her shoulders high and back, exposing her breasts and nipples just right. My dick twitches, but I ignore it as I go grab dinner and the wine.
Careful and slow, I feed her small bites of the steak. I wash it down with copious amounts of the merlot. Her expression is unchanged and hard to read. I won’t know until I tell her to speak how she truly feels. She is rare that way. Never letting anyone have an upper hand with her emotions. It’s a huge turn on and a skill I know she’s honed with Raniero. I can spot his work a mile away. It’s easy to see where I left off fifteen years ago versus the more recently acquired skill set. She embodies a polish and finesse now. It’s a nice touch.
Kicking back in my chair, I light a smoke, assessing her will. I don’t need to break her, which is sweet. I can just take her for a ride anytime I want. A properly trained girl is a special cut, one I will savor. The shit you get at The Holding Room isn’t this. She is opening a fine bottle of wine or going bareback on a mare that trusts you as much as herself. It’s refreshing and endearing, making me want her all that much more.
“So, ask me,” I growl.
Her eyes cast a glance up to me. “I am not sure I have any questions. You flipped on me. If I had known…”
Leaning forward, I place my elbows on my knees as my eyes flicker with intrigue. I won’t take no for an answer. Maybe she already knows this. Arguing with me will get her nowhere fast. “If you had known…”
“If I had known I was coming to be your house pet, I might have never agreed to get on the back of your bike.”
“You think you had a choice?” Chuckling a little too loud, I boast, “That’s funny.”
“I understand you don’t give a shit about my consent. You are going to do to me what you are going to do,” she says as her blue eyes lure me in to her waters. “You are one sick motherfucker that way. Always have been.”
Standing up, I move closer and lower my face to her shoulder. “You know how hard I get when you curse at me.”
Her jaw flinches, and there is the signal I have been waiting on—I’ve got her, regardless of what her pretty mind believes. What I don’t expect is the fight to come flying from her lips. “I am not a fool. Don’t you think I knew exactly what we were doing? For heaven’s sake, you buried your dick in me in that bathroom! Let me tell you something, Dale Archer… I got your message—loud and clear—and fucking hard. And I fully understand, I am your hostage.”
Turning back to her, I say, “Hostage?”
“You won’t let me go,” she sasses off.
“Well, no. I won’t,” I agree, pacing. “But hostage seems a bit severe.”
“I am just calling it like I see it. You trapped me like an animal.”
“No, I have one hour. I am taking the rest of my minutes,” she advises. “You brought me here to try and make a play for my heart again.”
“Wrong. I brought you here to keep you safe.”
“Oh, and it’s just convenient to use my fetish to keep me?”
“I don’t see you actually objecting, darlin.”
She presses her lips together with an angry resolve. Her temper is flaring because I played her right. I knew she would never agree to this with me. So, I did the only thing I could—take what I want—by any means necessary.
“You are a monster.”
“Again, not an objection,” I say, clearing away the dishes. “Keep talking dirty to me, I love that shit.”
I hear her sigh loudly. “I fucking hate you.”
Getting in her face, I smile wide, showing her my shiny, white teeth. “Your hate is matched by the wetness between your thighs. Duly noted.”
She pushes forward, trying to attack me physically. Grabbing her tiny frame, I pick her up and lay her across the table as she squirms, kicking and serpentining. I yank her to the end of the table, securing one ankle to the leg and then the other. Lifting her tethered wrists, I secure her arms with an additional piece of rope looped into the web. With her strapped to the table, she is unable to move.
“What the fuck…” she moans.
“Not yet, but soon,” I assure with a slight smirk.
Pulling up against the ropes, she screams straining wail of moans. “You are fucking sick!” She spits as her spray shot of saliva ends up dousing my face.
Tilting my head, I cock a brow at her curiously. “Amber, tell me which one of us is sick—me for doing this or – you – for allowing it?”
“I am not allowing it!” she argues, flailing against her bindings. “I didn’t agree to this. I needed your help in getting away from psychopathic gunmen, I never realized I would end up in the hands of a crazy fucking bastard.”
Walking away, I accuse, “You aren’t fighting, pretty girl.”
I open the door and head outside for a smoke as I hear her voice cry, “Fuck you!”
Embracing diversity. Coffee addict. Mango lover. Blueberry fetishist. Sweet peach tea crazy. Red wine devout. Whiskey deviant. Tattooed & pierced. Loves shoes. Collects rosaries. Fanatical organizer/cleaner/list-maker. Never sleeps. Hermit and recluse.
Kailee Reese Samuels has been spinning tales since she can remember. Her books are contemporary fiction with a no-holds-barred attitude. She adores listening to her character’s ramble and putting them into situations that push the boundaries.
Creativity is the way to change.