The Bet

The characters and events
portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living
or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The Bet

Copyright © 2012 by Lacey Kane

Cover Design by Adrienne Thorne

All rights reserved. No part of
this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means
—
except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews
—
without written permission.

For more information: [email protected]
or www.laceykane.com

Warning
: This book contains sexually
explicit material and adult language, and might offend some readers. This is
for adults only.

Disclaimer
: The sexual practices contained
herein are of a fantasy BDSM nature. Do not try any new sexual practice or any
of those described within this book without the guidance of an experienced
practitioner. Many of the acts described within this book are figments of the
author’s rather abundant imagination and might, therefore, not be possible,
legal, and/or advisable. Neither the publisher nor the author will be
responsible for any loss, injury, harm, or death resulting from the use of the
information found within this or any other title.

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Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

About the Author

Other Lacey Kane
Titles

“You
haven’t forgotten our little bet, have you?” Dustin squeezed my hand and
chuckled, looking down at me—or rather, down at the valley between my breasts
enhanced by my strapless, black cocktail dress.

He
guided me past a white van marked Bradford’s Bond Services and up the marble stairs
out in front of the mansion where his annual company holiday party was taking
place, never slowing his stride long enough for me to do more than wonder why a
bail bondsman might be parked outside.

“If
Marina, The Bitch remembers your name, you win and I’ll be your sex slave for
the entire weekend, doing anything and everything you want, whenever you want.”

Marina,
The Bitch was Dustin’s pet name for his a coworker, if you could call it that.
The same woman had been tormenting his life and that of everyone on his team
for the better part of three years with her crazy demands and me-first mentality.

“And
if she’s forgotten it, like I know she will—”

“Then
you’re in charge all weekend,” I interrupted with a slow, seductive smile. “I’ll
go along with whatever you’ve got planned. Yeah, I got it, babe. Me, your
personal sex slave.”

“My
own little fuck toy.”

I
laughed at that, because it sounded so ridiculous. It didn’t really matter to
me who won, honestly. Either way, it meant a weekend full of wild, crazy, monkey
sex. We’d been planning it for weeks. Dustin had reserved some swanky cabin in
the middle of nowhere at one of those “glamping” sites, out far enough that our
cell phones wouldn’t get any service, so there would be no interruptions. I’d
scheduled the time off at the hospital, volunteering for the holiday rush in
the ER, while he’d be busy with the company end-of-year insanity that happened
every year, so I could get the whole weekend now.

And,
just because it was the perfect excuse for it, I’d gone to Candy Cane’s Adult
Supply and stocked up on everything I imagined we’d need—flavored lube,
glow-in-the-dark ribbed condoms, a pair of fuzzy handcuffs, crotchless panties,
and (just for shits and grins) a set of black, leather floggers. I doubted we’d
use the floggers, but I was dying to see Dustin’s reaction to them. He was
always telling me I was too uptight, even though I loved a good fuck as much as
he did.

When
we walked through the main entry into the ballroom, he pulled me off into a
little alcove and shoved my back up against the cold, hard wall. “Good,” Dustin
whispered into my ear, just before he nipped at my lobe with his teeth, leaving
me a shuddering, gooey mess. “Game on, Jenna.”

It
was a miracle I could keep standing in those heels, since my legs had turned to
Jell-O. Just that little bit of his teeth on my skin was all it took to send a
flood of heat between my legs, and it was all I could do to keep from wrapping
my legs around his long, lean frame and dry humping him then and there.

I
thought that would be it, that we’d head out into the crowd and make nice for
the party. I shouldn’t have tried thinking. Not while my mind was so clearly on
anything other than rational thought.

Dustin
pulled back from me a bit and grinned, that wicked grin that brings out the
dimple in his right cheek and means all sorts of delightful, naughty things are
in our near future. His blue eyes twinkled as he moved both hands up from my
waist to grab onto my breasts and squeeze the mounds through the satin fabric.

“God,
I love your tits,” he said.

He
leaned down and kissed me, his pepperminty tongue forcing its way inside my
mouth to sweep along the insides of my cheeks. Just as he angled his head to
take the kiss deeper, he found my nipples with his thumbs and fingers, pinching
the ever-loving life out of them so hard and so suddenly that I screamed in shock
and pain. The sound was muffled in his kiss. It would have been lost on the
noise of the party, anyway, what with the Santa hat-clad DJ blaring Christmas
music so loud you could barely hear yourself think.

Not
that I could think, anyway. I was too busy squirming to try to get away from
Dustin’s punishing grip on my tits, but the more I tugged, the harder he pinched.

He
kept kissing me, his tongue working like a piston, in and out of my mouth like
his cock does when I blow him. By the time tears came to my eyes from the pain from
his fingers, he was grinding his hips into mine, and the pressure of his hard dick
rubbed over my aching clit through my dress inexplicably turned my screams of
pain into whimpers of blinding need.

How
the hell had he done that to me?

Dustin
wedged his knee between my thighs and lifted me, my back still pressed hard
against the wall, until I was riding him and writhing over his leg, panting for
release. With one hand, I grabbed onto his shoulder to steady myself for the
ride, locking my other in his short, wavy brown hair. The super-short skirt of
my dress rode up until my pussy was bared to his leg, other than what my thong
covered. I started bucking my hips, desperate for the biggest damn orgasm of my
life, just as he changed from using a pinching, vise-like pressure on my tits
to acting like he was trying to twist them off my breasts entirely.

That
was it. I screamed out and exploded from the inside out.

The
fat lady, my friends, had sung.

Slowly,
Dustin lowered me down the wall until I was standing on my own two incredibly
shaky feet again. His lips left mine, and I let out some incomprehensible,
wobbly sound—more animal than human—something like “Gahnnhggn.”

After
a few minutes, he finally let go of my nipples, and I almost screamed out again
as the blood rushed back into them. Not that it would have mattered. Nobody
could have possibly heard me. Probably not even Dustin.

His
normally blue eyes were almost black with the need for a good fuck, but he
straightened my skirt, pulling it back down to cover my pussy and ass. Just
when I was beginning to think he was done torturing me for now, he slipped one
hand up under my skirt. Two fingers dipped under my thong and deep into my
insanely wet pussy, finger-fucking me into a quick frenzy while his thumb
pressed down hard on my clit.

I
let out three sharp, short little “Ah,” sounds, and then came on him again,
collapsing back against the wall for support. Christ on a cracker, I’d never
been multi-orgasmic before. Not so easy like that. He’d always had to work so
hard to get me to come again if we fucked twice in a night, and it had never,
not even once, happened even the first time without his tongue on my clit.

Dustin
pulled his hand free, then stuck his fingers into my mouth. My eyes went wide
from the taste of my own juices.

“Suck
them clean for me, Jenna.” His voice was gruff and commanding. He always
sounded like that a little bit when we fucked, but this was more intense. More
authoritative. A hell of a lot sexier.

I
sucked. And I licked. And I marveled at what was happening. This was so not
us
as I’d ever experienced us before. I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing
or a bad thing.

When
his fingers were clean, he pulled them free from my mouth, tongue-kissed me
again and groaned, and then tweaked my tits as hard as he had the first time.