SUBMISSIVE ON THE RUN
by Tara Quan
Obscene wealth and a toxic family taught Joss Bradlee to care about no one. He moved through life in a caustic shell, fending off gold-diggers with his sharp tongue and abrasive personality. But a stubborn submissive saw past his nonchalant act, and he fell hard and fast for a girl he didn’t deserve. When she accidentally stumbled into the line of fire, he moved heaven and earth to protect her, even if it meant letting her go. Ten months later, he ensures her safety and tracks her down, finally ready to claim the one person that matters. The only problem—she wants nothing to do with him.
On the run for close to a year, Kim Tran receives a surprise call from the man who’d put her life in danger. His family hired assassins to kill her, but he’s somehow convinced they still had a chance. With their entire relationship built on a lie, she resists the instinct to sprint straight into his arms. Faced with a social divide no sane person would bridge, she cuts her losses and breaks her own heart. But the Dominant she loves has other plans, and he’s spent his entire life getting his way. Too late to run and with nowhere to hide, she faces an adversary well versed in all her weaknesses.
At the Carnivore Club, two exhibitionists meet for a battle of wills, lured by a one-night stand service, misplaced cat, and several helping hands. With the aid of handcuffs, disciplinary measures, and a capture game, a reluctant sub rediscovers the pleasures of bondage, the thrill of display, and the ecstasy of surrender.
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BDSM Romance, Erotic Romance, Interracial/Multicultural
Publisher: Decadent Publishing
Kim woke in a cocoon of hard muscle and minty cologne. Joss’s thighs warmed her sore butt. His arms caged her shoulders. Squeezing her eyes shut, she snuggled closer, refusing to wake from the best dream in recent memory.
“Cute as this is, I’m bored. You’re awake. Entertain me.” Warm fingers patted her cheek. She grunted. Leave it to her subconscious to incorporate her cat’s wake-up routine into the dream.
A pair of knuckles squeezed her nose. With a gasp, she forced her lids to unstick. Tiger must be sitting on her face again.
Reality and fantasy realigned as she blinked away the cobwebs. Full consciousness accompanied an unsettling discovery. “Where the hell are my panties?”
“In a safe place.” Grabbing her shoulders, the man-sized feline forced her into a seated position. When her lids drooped, he shook her hard enough to rattle her teeth. “I should have guessed you’d conk out. Sex always makes you sleepy. But this time, you dozed longer than usual. My pecs started to fall asleep. I didn’t know they could.”
They sprawled in one corner of the interrogation room. Fluorescent light blazed from above, illuminating the handcuffs fastened to the table. She could see through the giant two-way mirror on the far wall. Spotting the empty rows of chairs on the other side, she hid her face in the crook of his arm. “Oh God. That didn’t just happen.”
“You’ve slept for”—he checked his wristwatch—“two hours or so. As I said, numb chest. Worth it though. You’re a lot prettier without dark circles under your eyes.”
The soreness between her legs an uncomfortable reminder of her recent lapse in judgment, she swallowed to soothe her parched throat. Not ready to discuss what they’d done or face the ramifications, she focused her attention on his jacket. “How can you wear a wool suit in Las Vegas?”
“I plan my day around air-conditioning. If there’s strenuous physical activity on the agenda, I try to make the ambient temperature close to freezing.” He pressed something cold and wet against the back of her neck. She turned her head to discover a bottle of Perrier. Someone must have delivered it while she was out.
“Which explains this ice box.” Yanking the fizzy water out of his grasp, she guzzled the icy liquid. Unflavored soda had no reason for existing, but thirst overruled her picky taste buds. “So you came knowing I’d let you fuck me.” It hurt her pride he’d deemed her a sure thing.
“I hoped missing me would throw you off balance.” He retrieved the half-empty bottle and placed it to their side. “That and threatening to steal the damn cat. And yes, from the moment we met, getting your panties off was always the simple part. Everything else is a shit ton more complicated.”
A way with words, the man had not. Too bad his brand of dominance chimed perfectly with her needs. “Yeah, I’m easy.”
“You’re the opposite of easy, pet. Taking care of you redefined difficult.” A grin creased his cheeks. “But I don’t mind. You’re worth it.”
She heaved a sigh. Staying mad suddenly became impossible.
With great effort, she rekindled her anger. “You lied to me. I’m not okay with it, although I should have guessed you weren’t some lackey.” In the posh surroundings of Boston’s underground BDSM club, Joss had commanded obedience with too much confidence, shirked the trappings of privilege with the callousness of a man who’d wanted for nothing. But she’d seen what she’d wanted to see, blinding herself to a truth so obvious the charade seemed laughable. “Personal assistant my ass.”
“As I said, you jump to the weirdest conclusions.” Lacing his fingers through her hair, he combed the tangled strands apart. “To be fair, my brother did consider me his personal assistant. He just never paid me. Come to think of it, the cash always flowed the other way round. By the time you’d caught on, you liked instant messaging me between classes too much to ask questions.”
“Fine. I don’t make friends easily, and I didn’t want to lose you.” She respected herself enough to admit it out loud. “But why pretend to be someone else?” Obscene wealth was an asset, not a handicap.
His icy mask cracked. “I got addicted to the way you look at me.”
She frowned. “What way?”
“As if I’m a person, not a name. Before telling you the truth, I wanted to become someone you could like.”
Traces of past pain furrowed his forehead. With trembling fingers, she smoothed out the grooves. “You’re already someone I like.” Someone she more than liked. “No matter what happens, you need to know that.”
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Still think you can run from this, do you?”
She had to. “When I do, I need you to remember it’s because of me.”
“God damn. I’m getting the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ speech.” He drew air quotes with his fingers. “It must be karma. Nice try, but there is a logical flaw to your breakup routine. You see, I decide how I feel about you. You decide how you feel about me. How one feels about oneself at no point factors into the equation.”
His argument made her dizzy. “Were you on the debate team or something?”
“Parliamentary and forensic. Trust me, you can’t win.” Behind his smug smile, she glimpsed something more—obstinate determination and absolute certainty.
Thrilled and terrified, she swallowed the lump in her throat. “We could get over each other if we tried.”
Imprisoning her with his arms, he trailed his nose down the line of her neck. “How’s that working out for you? On my end, every hot chick I see has your face. One look at your reflection, and bam—instant hard on. Our breather flopped.” He dipped his head lower, scattering kisses along her collarbones. “I’m glad it’s done.”
“No.” Her vision misted with pulses of crimson. She tried to summon an iota of reluctance. Her libido refused to play ball. “We’re not doing this again.”
He bit the sensitive spot between her shoulder and neck. “You don’t have a choice. I’m calling the shots.”
His confidence curled her toes. “What we had was less than a fling.” She poured what little willpower she had into the false words.
He squeezed her breast, the proprietary caress arching her back. “You’re going to pay for that lie with a lot more than a hard spanking.”
Arousal flared, potent and irresistible. “You have no right. I’m not your sub.” When he pinched her nipples, flashes of heat threatened to melt away thought. “But there’s a whole club full of women willing to play your games.”
“I’ve already chosen mine.” She writhed when his grip tightened. In her moment of distraction, he slid his hand under her skirt. With her underwear gone, he could shove his fingers inside her without preamble.
“Joss….” It hurt. In the best way.
He looped his other arm around her. Caught in a vise, she had little recourse beyond a whimpered protest. “I don’t want this.” But she did. Enough to erase the safe word from her vocabulary.
“Dishonesty seems to be a chronic problem.” He pressed down on her clit with his thumb and screwed his digits deeper into her. Her clenching inner muscles supported his observation. So did her uncontrollable spasms as his unyielding penetration vaulted her toward a crest.
She dug her nails into his forearms, a useless defense that only reinforced her helplessness. “Stop it.”
He ignored her resistance, playing her like an instrument until sweat once more coated her skin. “Why? You’re more honest right after you come.”
He added a third finger, and the painful stretching proved too much. She firmed her lips, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of her cries. With her body imprisoned, his ruthless mastery fulfilled one of her darkest fantasies. He forced the orgasm on her, and she wanted it too badly to end their game.
Slumping against his chest, she watched him lick his fingers. God, she’d been easy. Twice in less than three hours.
“It would be my pleasure to keep this up until you tell me what the hell is going on. The truth, or I’ll drag you outside and show everyone how wet you are.”
Her head spinning from the aftermath of guilty ecstasy, she failed to stop the words from slipping out. “Damn it, Joss. Leave me alone. Go find someone who deserves you. I’m not worth your time”
“What?” The fact that he loosened his arms and allowed her to wiggle free was a testament to his shock. “Seriously?”
“It’s true.” Burning streaks leaked from the corners of her eyes. She had to push him away—for his own good. Scrambling to her feet, she raced to the door. The world spun. She’d gotten up too quickly.
Gripping the handle, she forced herself to remain upright. When she pulled, it refused to budge. “Let me the hell out.”
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Globetrotter, lover of languages, and romance author, Tara Quan has an addiction for crafting tales with a pinch of spice and a smidgen of kink. Inspired by her travels, Tara enjoys tossing her kick-ass heroines and alpha males into exotic contemporary locales, paranormal worlds, and post-apocalyptic futures. Her characters, armed with magical powers or conventional weapons, are guaranteed a suspenseful and sensual ride, as well as their own happily ever after. To receive updates about her new releases and get a free sexy read, subscribe to her mailing list at www.taraquan.com/newsletter.
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