In His Service
IN HIS SERVICE: HIS #2
(A BILLIONAIRE DOMINATION SERIAL)
by
Erika Masten
KINDLE EDITION
Copyright © 2012 Erika Masten
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Erika Masten
http://erikamasten.blogspot.com
Published by Sticky Sweet Books. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored on, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons or events are purely coincidental.
Warning: Explicit content. Intended for mature readers only. All characters depicted herein are 18 years or older, and all sexual activities are of a consensual nature.
This is a work of erotic fantasy. In real life, please protect yourself and your lover by always practicing safe sex.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Excerpt From
Excerpt From
Do it, Chloe
, he’d said. Simple enough. Leave my clothes scattered on the luminous yellow sand of the beach—where I had just spent the night with bound wrists, taken hard and thoroughly by a decadently wealthy and unbearably handsome man—and follow the path before me up through the trees to Adrian Knight’s private villa.
But it wasn’t really that simple. It wasn’t just clothing. It wasn’t just a bare earthen path or a house promising a pleasantly cool haven from the pervasive Brazilian sun.
Leave my defenses and my life and my identity at Knight’s feet and march myself like a willing sacrifice into his world, into his service as his possession and for his pleasure. That was what he was actually saying. It was no small request, and he should have known it as well as I did, even if he had no idea of the particulars of the life he was suggesting I could cast off as easily as I might put off a lunch date with a casual acquaintance.
The man lingering behind me, the sense of his nearness and his warmth so pronounced in the cooler air of early morning, wasn’t even that. Hardly an acquaintance and certainly not casual. Within twenty-four hours of meeting Knight, of finding myself mesmerized by the silvery sheen of his light brown eyes, of fighting back the urge to run my hands through the silky ruffles of his dark brown hair, of reacting with unexpected and even distressing physical need to the overly familiar brushes of his hands along my arms and his heated breath against my cheek, I had given myself to him sexually not once but twice. Despite my broken heart and freshly wounded ego from Penn Ellison’s all-too-public unfaithfulness to me, I hadn’t just had sex with Adrian but
submitted
to him.
I had let him slide his long, tanned fingers into my embarrassingly wet core in the semi-public sauna of his five-star resort, where either clientele or staff might have caught us, while he muttered dirty things into my ear. While he teasingly praised me for taking direction so well and made me confess I wanted him. I had let him push me face-first against the wall and hold my arms pinned behind my back while he worked his thick member into me with blissfully agonizing force. I had let him spend himself in my mouth. And then…I’d come back for more, ending up here on the beach with him last night.
Now Knight was the one who wanted more, proposing I forget the last week of the South American cruise that had brought me to the resort on his private island of Ilha de Flor and remain here as his mistress and submissive. Mistress not in the sense of cheating with him on a wife but of being his dirty little secret, a woman he supported materially and owned completely. For how long he didn’t say. As long as I amused him, I supposed.
He didn’t know staying with him would have meant abandoning a demanding but well-paid career as a successful environmental lawyer back on the East Coast. He didn’t ask what my friends or family would think. I doubted he would have cared. Adrian Knight was old money; I saw that clearly now. From a family just like Penn’s, probably. Wealth and power ran in the blood and sank into the bone. It colored their every thought in ways the average person—the kind of person I had started out—couldn’t understand. What didn’t concern him—my career, my friends, my life beyond Ilha de Flor—shouldn’t have concerned me.
I caught myself knitting my brow in deep concentration, gnawing my lips. Silently reminding myself in my mother’s voice to stop brooding and
breathe
, I filled my lungs and shook the tousled waves of my long brown hair out of my face as a morning breeze swept in from behind us with the strong scent of salty marine air. My anxious hands curled into loose fists, my toes down into the fine sand, as a weary air of resentment filled my chest and mouth. Resentment not so much of Penn, for driving me here with his infidelity and total inability to grasp emotional intimacy. Or of Adrian Knight, for taking me as simply and casually as he might order off a wine list and for having that privileged class audacity to want more. Mostly of myself, for reveling in Adrian’s touch just the same. For having bent the rules of ethics by getting involved with a client’s son when I’d started seeing Penn in the first place—and staying with him far too long. For acting like my mother, leading with my heart instead of my head, arms and legs open, eyes closed.
Still, I wasn’t just a leaf blown on the winds of others when I almost numbly placed one foot before the other and started up that fateful path. I’d been stubborn and willful my whole life, as strange as that might have sounded from a woman who harbored a secret taste for dominating lovers. It was my own commitment to what I had begun when I’d given myself to Adrian Knight, my determination to explore and understand and…
master
this male talent for separating one’s sexual and emotional selves, that directed my steps.
The villa was even more beautiful and exotic than I expected, long and low, with a gently pitched roof and a fair portion of its walls made of fold-back wooden floor-to-ceiling shutters, nested in the concealing green boughs of the rainforest. Eggshell-white interior, so many shades of polished wood, a sienna concrete floor cool and lightly textured under my bare feet as I entered past a stone patio and a gap in the shutters that led to a large bedroom. The view of the bed, broad and overbearing with a cream-colored pleated canopy gathered and tied back against its posts, confronted me as I forged into the room. An appropriate symbol of what I was about to do, what my life would become with Adrian Knight. A symbol of liberation as much as submission—I hoped.
He took his time following me, and I stood waiting, facing that oversized bed. When I finally heard his footsteps, I could tell he was still barefoot, having slipped back into his tuxedo shirt and pants but not the polished black shoes. I jumped at the clatter as something hit the floor just inside the shutters, and I turned my head. Not enough to look at Knight—I couldn’t do that yet—but enough to see he had gathered our clothes and shoes and dropped them in a pile. I was just as surprised at the idea that he hadn’t left it for someone else to do, but I knew already that he had certain…quirks that ran contrary to most men of wealth. That was part of what set me on edge about him. And part of what intrigued me.
From the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of movement coming toward me, and I snapped my head forward again. “Three months.”
“Pardon?” That faded British accent of his came out thicker than I’d heard it so far. Was it because he was tired after our night on the beach? I knew I was, sore and spent and sated. Or maybe it was part of his seductive arsenal, knowing most American women went soft around the edges at the sound of that upscale London inflection. Again, I knew I did.
“If I do this, I will…” I sounded angry, my words tight and clipped. Though understandable, given the betrayal and public embarrassment of the last month of my life, it wasn’t like me. I caught myself holding my shoulders high and stiff and made myself let them go. The sauna may have been Adrian’s idea, but I’d gone to
him
last night at dinner. I had been the one to decide I wanted more of that illicit rush, lust unadulterated by emotional ties, divorced from what I might have known about a lover’s life or his dreams or his tragedies. Adrian Knight was practically a blank slate to me, with one word scrawled across it—
want
. I couldn’t be mad at him for giving me what I’d asked for. And it was actually kind of a complement, wasn’t it, the fact that he wanted, too? Wanted more. Everything I…my body…could give.
I started again. “I can only give you three months. That’s the longest leave of absence my firm will give me, assuming they agree.”
Only silence answered me at first. When he finally spoke, his voice seemed farther away, across the room and guardedly low and deliberate. “I accept your terms, Miss Bloom, for now.”
Back to Miss Bloom.An indication of displeasure? Or did he have the slightest hint how it affected me when he called me Chloe, when he sighed my name into my ear as he sank himself inside me? Maybe he understood and was wisely keeping that weapon on reserve. The thought of Adrian being so emotionally manipulative made my stomach sour and bob inside me, but I reminded myself that I was here to be manipulated, dominated, subjected to both mental and physical sensations beyond my control.
“Take off your panties.”
As detached as I tried to be, this instruction shot through my body like a drug in my veins. I felt a hot flush spread across my cheeks and a cold chill run up my back.
So it began? That simply? So soon? I hadn’t called the office to arrange the leave. I hadn’t let any of my friends know I wouldn’t be back as scheduled. I wasn’t even sure what time it was, only that it was early morning and an hour earlier on the East Coast. Would anyone be in the office yet?
Though my mind was a whirl of panic, which I struggled to temper with practical considerations, my body reacted of its own accord. My panties were the only thing I’d put on while down on the beach, before Adrian caught me off guard with his indecent proposal. Now, as I peeled them off and bent to untangle the white lace from my feet, I was acutely aware of Adrian’s gaze upon me. Oddly modest for the circumstances, I kept my knees pressed together, as though that would hide my bare sex from his view.
“Turn around,” he breathed out, “and come to me.”
I didn’t want to look at Adrian, but I couldn’t help it. And it ached just as badly as I knew it would. His tuxedo tie discarded on the polished wooden end table next to the sleek white leather chair where he sat, Adrian had left his shirt open, revealing a lean, developed chest and swimmer’s abs. As I walked toward the man, I cautioned myself not to fall to my knees in front of him and bury my face against that tanned torso, as much as I wanted to.
His legs were spread wide, his feet planted solidly on the hard floor, one elbow supported by the arm of the chair and his chiseled face resting in the crook of one hand. Was it those moonlight-on-latte brown eyes of his, under that moody and expressive brow line, that made him almost too handsome to look at? Or his lips, full and bowed, stern but soft, and so subtly pink under his light Brazilian tan? Maybe the rough dusting of five o’clock shadow he wore around his mouth, over his chin, along the bottom of his strong, angled jaw?
When I stopped in front of him, Adrian’s gaze swept me toes to crown and back again. The tiny shudder that vibrated through my body made me feel like he had caressed me by virtue of his very
attention
. I should have been self-conscious standing naked before him. One too many desserts on the cruise ship? Would he think the flare of my hips was a little too wide by the light of day? Were my breasts round enough, full enough, high enough? If he was indeed anything like Penn, I could be sure Adrian had been with some of the most exquisitely beautiful women money and influence could buy. I had never understood why the Ellison heir, the golden boy with golden hair, had chosen me as his girlfriend. I didn’t ask myself why Adrian Knight wanted me as his submissive. For once, I didn’t care, and that felt both horrifyingly reckless and delightfully cathartic.
