Snippet from A Willing Slave

Here’s a little taste of my latest A Willing Slave:

Later that afternoon there was a knock at her apartment door. Christina was supposed to be gathering her cleaning supplies to give Charles’ – she was trying to think of him as Charles since he’d informed her she belonged to him now – kitchen a scrub. He had nothing. He said the maid who came every week always brought everything he needed.

“I’ll call and tell her not to come,” he said with a big toothy grin.

She offered him a sickly smile and resisted giving him one of her fingers as well.

“Sore loser,” he said, still grinning when she rolled her eyes. He knew exactly what she was thinking.

Full bucket in hand, she opened the door, but before she could speak, he put a long finger over her lips and shook his head. “Hush, slave. It’s time to earn your keep.” And he took the bucket and left her to follow his broad back down the stairs.

Ignoring the niggle of unease that wormed its way down the back of her neck, she followed him into the kitchen.

“Clothes, please.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I said give me your clothes. I want you to clean naked.”

Her brows shot into her hairline. “You can’t be serious.”

He gave her a look so intense, so sincere, she actually took a step back. She watched, completely shocked as he walked closer, not stopping until he could reach out and take hold of her nape.

“You are my slave, here at my whim. I want you naked while you make this place spotless,” he ordered, his voice soft, but firm, and so sexy, tingles spread in her lower belly, over the skin beneath his hot hand on her neck.

“Oh, please,” she scoffed, trying and failing to yank herself free. “If you think I’m –”

“Are you welshing on our bet?”

Her mouth fell open. She closed it with a wet snap. He was so close she could see the flecks of gold in his espresso-colored eyes. “Of course not,” she whispered.

“Then strip.”

Christina didn’t know what to do.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she told him, her small hand trying to cover his large one and move it away from her neck. Instead of letting her go, he tightened his grip and a shudder went through her body. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Why not?” he asked, finally backing away, though he was slow to remove his hand.

She inhaled a shaky breath. “It-It’s not right.”

“Why not?” he asked again. “We never worked out the details. Only the time table and your fee.”

She winced at the mention of the money, but forged ahead anyway. “Exactly! There was no mention of me working nude.”

“Being a slave implies a certain level of subservience, a fairly high loss of control. You lost,” he reminded her. “It’s not my problem you didn’t see past what you thought was an easy mark. I won fair and square, and your failure to specify the terms of our agreement has nothing to do with the reality of this situation. I own you for the next seven days,” he finished quietly. “To my mind, as long as I don’t physically harm or otherwise abuse you, everything else is fair game. I’m no different from any other employer asking you to wear a uniform.”

Uniform? What, like a birthday suit?

He could have been talking with one of his clients, calmly laying out the particulars of service he could provide. She’d heard him more than once, speaking in this same slightly cold tone, as though he could give a damn if the caller knew what was good for him or not. Without ever hearing the other side of the conversation she had always suspected the person listening to his deep voice would acquiesce.

“You were going to take me for a ride, thinking I would lose because I usually do,” he said now. “That I didn’t, and that you were wrong, really serves you right.”

It was true. She felt the unfamiliar sting of shame. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Charlie. I would have done good work for you. And I wouldn’t have taken all that money,” she said defensively. “I was going to use some of it to pay off Visa, but the rest I planned to spend on tickets to a show and dinner out for us. I’d have paid you back.”

He nodded. “I know that.”

Christina shoulders slumped in relief. She hated the thought of him feeling cheated or wronged by her.

“You probably would have done more than what I asked too, but you still will. You’ll just give me something pretty to look at while you do.”

She stared at him for a long moment. He was serious. Well, hell. She hadn’t seen this one coming at all. She stalled, trying to think up a good reason to refuse him, but her mind remained stubbornly blank. He did nothing, just stared at her with his eyebrow raised. Slowly, as though some other malleable, obedient soul inhabited her body, she raised slightly shaking fingers to the button of her jeans.

“Our friendship will never be the same,” she whispered.

He laughed. “No, it probably won’t, but we will still be friends. Here,” he said, and the certainty in his deep voice loosened something unnamed and unfamiliar inside her. “Let me help.” He unzipped the jeans and knelt to tug them down her legs.

Christina gulped when he removed her loafers and lifted one foot and then the other free of the dark blue fabric. She put her hand on his shoulder and tried not to breathe when she felt his lips brush her inner thigh.

Don’t freak out. It was an accident.

But when it happened on the other leg, she knew he wanted her to feel his warm breath, the softness of his lush pink lips.

He rose, and Christina had never felt tinier or more vulnerable. She was barely 5’5 to his 6’2, and he seemed even taller once she was pant and shoeless. His big hands went to the hem of her t-shirt, and her fingers briefly balled into fists until he lifted the shirt over her head. Her panties and bra followed.

She held her breath as he looked his fill at her body, and he took a good, long, nipple tightening look. Her heart was beating so hard, blood was rushing so forcefully through her veins she was shaking like a cold, wet kitten when he bent to pick up the little pile of her clothes.

“Get to work,” he told her, and left.

Christina released a harsh breath and shook her head. How on earth had she gotten into this? Why had she agreed? Her brains had oozed out like gas through a leaky pipe somewhere between being told to strip and feeling Charlie kiss her inner thigh. Good grief. It was one thing to entertain sexy dreams about a man, to quietly stoke a crush in the privacy of your own thoughts. It was quite another to end up jaybird ass naked in the crush’s kitchen holding a sponge and a can of comet.

And what the hell had gotten into Charlie? He’d never looked at her like this before, never. It was one of the things she liked about him, the complete absence of those pork chop looks men have a tendency to give when they were thinking about fucking, and you just happened to be in their line of sight.

He’d always been respectful, a tease, sure, but there had never been anything overtly sexual in it. Now, he was practically sweating pheromones, and she felt sick with nerves as she realized how quickly her hazy, daydream-like attraction to him had morphed into something tangible under his new found attention.

Don’t even start. This is just a bet. Some warped game he’s playing because he’s a man, and I’m a woman, and I walked right into it.

There was a noise in the hall, and guiltily she began to run water for the breakfast dishes. Suddenly she smiled. Man, she was an idiot! This was all a gag. Charlie was just playing with her, kidding around. He’d probably worked this joke up to teach her a lesson. He wasn’t the type to lecture against the perils of gambling and looking for an easy way out. Instead he’d come in any minute now laughing and making fun of her.

She grinned as she realized how readily she’d made a fool of herself. She’d never live this down.

He’ll probably crack all sorts of dominant/submissive jokes and tease me about my romance novels coming to life until I want to pop him upside the head. Bossy ass jokester. She decided to play along.

There weren’t many dishes. Soon she started on the counters and stove, her large breasts swaying gently as she reached and rinsed and wiped things down.

“Payday is Friday,” he said suddenly.

Christina jumped, and Charlie watched her body jiggle and settle. Silently she thanked God for her mocha skin tone. Without it she’d have looked like an over ripe cherry about the face and neck.

“Yes, sir,” some imp inside her responded, and she dropped him a rather elegant, naked curtsy.

His nostrils flared, and the corner of his mouth lifted as he stalked closer.

Christina held the sponge in front of herself defensively, actually backing away a step before she realized what she was doing and stopped. He was so close she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye, but she held his gaze, teeth nibbling nervously at her full upper lip.

“When you’re done here, come into the office and straighten up my files,” he said, eyeing her captive lip thoughtfully before he turned to go.

Christina thought seriously about pitching the sponge at the back of his head, but instead she softly called his name.

“Yes?” he asked as quietly, staring her in the eye after a quick up and down perusal.

“At the end of the week I expect to be paid in cash.”

He grinned. “Of course.”

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