Pleasure Bay

Pleasure Bay

By

Maddie Taylor and Melody Parks

Copyright © 2014 by Stormy Night Publications and Maddie Taylor and Melody Parks

Copyright © 2014 by Stormy Night Publications and Maddie Taylor and Melody Parks

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

www.StormyNightPublications.com

Taylor, Maddie and Parks, Melody

Pleasure Bay

Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

Images by Jenn LeBlanc & Bigstock/Jlern

This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

Prologue

Hands gripped tightly, her pink-tipped nails dug into her palm, leaving crescent-shaped indentations in her soft skin. The pain barely registered, however, as she paced, her mind preoccupied with indecision.

“Sydney?”

She paused, as did the incessant click of her heels on the hardwood, a constant companion for the last fifteen minutes. The only remaining sound was the hum of her laptop as her mother’s voice fell silent—waiting for a response. Glancing sidelong at the webpage on the computer screen, she looked for what seemed like the hundredth time at the image of the white sandy beach, azure blue waters sparkling in the sun, and the huge mansion on the ridge in the distance overlooking the bay.

“Sydney Elizabeth Greene! Are you listening to me?” Over the speakerphone, her mother’s irritated tone was shrill and Sydney quickly adjusted the volume. “You find time to call maybe once a month and then you zone out on me?”

“Um, sorry, mom. I’m preoccupied with work. What were you saying?”

“Martha Anderson, you remember Martha, don’t you? From my bridge club? Her son Joseph is a lawyer and we thought he would be perfect for you. He’ll be in New York on business next month.”

Not another blind date. No way! Her mother’s voice droned on extolling the virtues of Joseph, the ‘perfect man for her.’ Sydney let it fade into the background of her consciousness as her eyes drifted back to the image of the exclusive Caribbean resort on the screen across the room. It seemed like the perfect vacation destination and after four years without a break, Sydney was in desperate need of an escape. In fact, she was in desperate need of any kind of life outside of work.

At twenty-eight, Sydney had eaten, slept, and breathed Europa, her premier Madison Avenue boutique since it opened six years ago. She specialized in European fashions, featuring incomparable one-off creations by Chanel, von Furstenberg, and Dior to name a few. Her shop was popular, but the fashion elite were fickle and could turn on a dime. Ultimately, the success or failure of the entire business rested solely on her shoulders as the owner.

Sometimes she wondered if the stress of being her own boss was worth it. True, she had an investor group, but between the frantic phone calls the minute the quarterly financial reports came out, the text messages when one of them had a ‘truly fantastic idea,’ or the emails if another woke in the middle of the night with a brainstorm on how to run the business more efficiently, they mostly contributed bullshit and headaches. Of course, none of their ideas ever panned out and if she dared decline politely, well… a rude round of emails soon followed. She knew all of their crap came with the territory of being young and inexperienced. She’d worked tirelessly, sixteen, sometimes twenty-hour days, ostracized friends in lieu of work and gone without seeing her family on holidays. Because of these isolating practices, Sydney had proven she had what it takes when Europa moved into the black within six months of opening its doors. Every month since then the shop had met or exceeded sales projections and was enjoying ever widening profit margins. But enough was enough; it was time to think about something besides work.

“So what do you think?”

“Uh—” she stalled, searching for an answer having no idea what her mother was asking. “Martha Anderson’s son, you say?” Her leading question gave her mother encouragement as she proceeded to list more in-depth details about Joseph the demi-god. Emily Greene seemed convinced that this man was ‘the one’ who would finally sweep her daughter off her feet and provide Emily with grandchildren she had been pestering her about for years.

Moving back to the couch, Sydney’s thoughts were on a totally different wavelength than her mother. She wasn’t thinking of marriage and babies. Instead, her thoughts were filled with sun, fun, and the excitement of exploring a different side of herself with a sexy man with a tan.

As she curled up on the couch with her laptop, Sydney continued to give occasional non-committal and vague responses to her mother. Uh-huhs, you don’t says, and mm-hms came from her end of the phone as her mother yammered on. She clicked on the home screen for Pleasure Bay;
where all your fantasies come true
. The glitzy, well-put-together website was impressive and certainly looked legit. For the five-figure price tag, it had better be. The website boasted of a decadent tropical locale, with miles of sandy beaches and sparkling Caribbean waters, five-star accommodations, topnotch amenities including swimming pools and spas, gourmet dining with a world-renowned chef, outdoor lounges, a day spa, gym facilities, 24/7 security, and a fully stocked playroom—whatever that meant.

As she tabbed through the website and photo gallery, a tab entitled ‘The Dungeon’ caught her eye and she clicked on it. Evidently, the resort catered to the kinky. “For the BDSM-inclined, our doms/dommes and submissives are carefully vetted and bring years of lifestyle experience to your specially crafted personal fantasy and will meet your needs within an SSC construct.” Sydney blinked as she zoomed in on a picture of The Dungeon. As she looked at the highly polished wood bondage equipment, her heart rate kicked up a notch. Especially the one of the beautiful half-naked woman draped over a padded bench, while a gorgeous man in black leather pants spanked her bare ass with a leather paddle. Liquid heat raced to her core, sending a tingle of sensation to her poor neglected clit while drenching her panties. As goosebumps broke out on her skin, she quickly returned to the home page.

“So I’ll give him your number?”

Startled, she stiffened. “What? Whose number?” What had she agreed to?

Sighing heavily, her mother said with exaggerated patience, “Joseph Anderson. The man I’ve been telling you about for the past fifteen minutes. Really, Sydney, sometimes it’s like I’m talking to myself.”

“I don’t know, mom. I don’t think I can bear another blind date. I’m doing okay on my own.”

That wasn’t a lie. She had dated, a dinner here, a movie there, but nothing serious. Mostly because the men she selected just weren’t doing it for her. There was no spark, no racing heart or sweaty palms, and there sure weren’t any fireworks going off below the waist. She knew part of the problem was her limited dating pool. In the fashion industry, men—especially straight men—were a minority. Her friends and family seemed to know it too, because she’d been set up, arranged, and fixed up by them, unsuccessfully, more times than she cared to admit.

“You’re not one of those lesbians, are you? Not that I’m a homophobe or anything, but that’s not a path to grandchildren for me, so I need to know. I’ll need to start working on your brother, if that’s the case.”

Syd closed her eyes in exasperation.
Lord, please shoot me now
. Although she was tempted to lie and come out to her mom right there on the spot, just to get her off her back, she couldn’t do that to Michael. At twenty-four and fresh out of college, her baby brother shouldn’t have to deal with it yet. “Mother, as I’ve told you a hundred times before, just because I don’t have a boyfriend doesn’t mean I’m a lesbian.”

“Good. Then there’s no reason I can’t give Joseph your number. He’ll be in town on the twenty-fifth of next month.”

“No, mom. I’ll be in Paris that week, remember?” Thank God she had a real excuse.

“Oh dear, did I say next month? I meant this month, honey. So there’s no problemo.” She laughed, and Sydney realized she’d been outmaneuvered by a master. Sighing, she opened her eyes and stared at the blue ocean water on the screen. Reaching out, she scrolled through the main photo gallery: a beach at sunrise, a couple hand in hand strolling through the surf, a gorgeous guest cottage with tons of lush tropical greenery providing privacy, a grotto with a couple standing naked in a thigh-deep pool of blue-green water while entwined in a passionate embrace. A cascade of water fell gently over the rocky wall in the background. The entire scene was sensual, romantic, and seriously hot.

As she felt a tingling between her thighs in response to the image, she realized she was aroused with wet panties while talking to her mother. Eww!

“Gotta go, mom. We’ll talk more soon.” She cut her poor mother off mid-sentence, which she’d hear about next time for sure, but as she stared transfixed at the image before her, she couldn’t focus her mind enough to care.

Her body was preoccupied with another part of her anatomy as something on the screen caught her eye. Leaning closer, she saw that she’d been wrong before. The woman was naked, but the man wore thin, light-colored swim trunks, and nothing more. The trunks were practically invisible as they molded to his hips and thighs, but that wasn’t the eye-catching part, not really. Tilting her head, her lips parted as her fingertips slid across the touchscreen, zooming in on the couple. At 150% magnification, Sydney saw that the man was the only one doing the embracing. His long whipcord arms revealed his strength as they wrapped around the woman’s lithe body.

Conversely, the woman curvy and lush. She arched backward with her full breasts pressed against his broad chest. Her arms angled sharply behind her; with her head thrown back, the long wet swath of her hair hung down, reaching toward the water. The position exposed her throat, leaving it vulnerable to his lips, which were pressed in a wide open-mouthed kiss against her glistening wet skin. She touched him intimately with her body, but not her hands, because she couldn’t. Her wrists were caught, held together in one of his large hands as he pinned them to the small of her back.

Sydney’s entire body tensed with arousal as her pussy clenched and flooded with desire. That—right there—was exactly what she wanted. A strong man, prepared to take control, to take what he wanted, how and when he wanted, leaving her no choice in the matter. That was more than a fantasy; it was a burning need deep inside her.

Leaning back on the couch, she closed her eyes and let her long-held fantasy take over. She imagined she was the woman in the photo. The man, no,
her
man was holding her pinned to his hard muscular chest, his free hand roughly gliding over her slick skin. Starting at her jaw, his fingers trailed down her throat, where they wrapped firmly but without pressure. As he exerted steely control, she knew he could squeeze and rob her of breath, but he didn’t. He just held her there, frozen for a brief moment, letting her realize his strength, his power, his sheer force of will. A feeling of vulnerability washed over her as surely as the water in the pool swirled around them. He moved on, his strong, capable hands gliding over her breasts, stopping to abrade her nipples with a rub, a graze, a roll, and a firm biting pinch. Once he made her breathless and had her begging for more, his hands moved on again. Down her belly and over her hips, around to the full globes of her bottom where he cupped a full cheek and squeezed, molding her pliant flesh.

“Fuck me!”

Crude words that rarely passed her conservative lips slipped free as the unexpected cry defined her need and passion. The next instant she was lifted in his strong arms and towed to the water’s edge. Handling her easily, he pressed her face down, her cheek and belly lying flat against the smooth, table-shaped rock, her bottom pointing skyward, bare and on display. Then it happened. His open hand blazed down upon her. His broad palm connecting with the wet skin of her rounded cheeks as the sound echoed loudly throughout the private grotto.

“Let’s get one thing clear, baby.” His deep voice was sultry and sexy enough to make her come on the spot as he laid down his rules. “I am in charge. I own this body, this ass, and this pussy. You gave me that right.” His hands moved upon her as he spoke, fingers stroking slowly over her ass before slipping lower and plunging deep inside her needy pussy. “I decide
when
and
how
we fuck. I also decide if you come. Maybe, if you ask nicely, if you beg prettily with that tempting mouth, then and only then, I might just let you come. But that’s up to me—not you.”