Page 117 of Under Daddy's Spell

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TOUGH LOVE 4: SLOWBURN DADDY

https://books2read.com/u/4NdVWJ

As a little girl, Piper Monroe didn't have the luxury of believing in fairy tales. Abandoned by her father and left with her alcoholic mother, she and her three siblings grew up fast. Years later, when Lieutenant Brody Murphy of Boston Fire rescues Piper from a burning building, the handsome-as-sin firefighter does more than just save her life. He shows her kindness, gives her a place to stay, and makes her question everything she thought she knew about knights in shining armor.

Nurturing and tender, Brody is happy to be patient with Piper as she struggles to accept his feelings and her own desires. But he won't let her tightly-built walls stand between them forever. Proving to her that he's the type of man who won't bail when life gets difficult is just the beginning. Will Piper's heart finally open up to the tough but unconditional slow burn love she's always needed?

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TOUGH LOVE 2 - FREESAMPLE:

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BEFORE THE FLOOD OFguests arrived and she was assigned to coat duty, she’d been serving the early guests in the parlor, which was what they called the room off the entryway and in front of the play area. It had several bay windows with cushioned seats and plenty of couches for lounging, before and after activities.

As she wound her way around the room, offering canapes and sparkling cider—alcohol was off limits until after, evidently—cries of “yes, sir” and “please, master” and a multitude of soft groans wafting through the arched doorway served as a backdrop to their chatter and laughter. Krista tried to keep her composure, but it was all she could do not to drop her tray and run for the exit when the sounds escalated to skin slapping against skin and the sharp crack of leather.

Every so often, a woman would scream. And, once, a similar sound came from a man, although it was at least an octave lower. When this happened, conversation stopped, and the guests shared amused looks, some smiling wistfully, before returning to whatever topic they were discussing.

These weren’t screams of protest or pain. Even Krista, who didn’t have extensive experience with sex, and none at all with kinky sex, could tell they were inspired by pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Her fingers shook as she picked up empty wine glasses or carefully balanced a tray of full ones because the sights, sounds and, yes, even the smells—leather, salt air, mixed with the musky scent of passion—had her on edge and really turned on. She was glad for the tray that hid her hard nipples, easily visible through the thin material of her blouse, but she couldn’t do anything for the ache that settled into the space between her thighs, or the dampness of her panties.

How long had it been since she’d had sex?

She’d broken up with Matt a while ago, but the few times with him didn’t count in her mind since the “big O” had never happened for her. He’d gotten off every time while she’d been left unsatisfied. Then the putz had the gall to dump her.

“This isn’t working for me, Krista,” he’d told her one evening after a cookout with friends.

She remembered it being hot. Not as recent as this past summer, which meant it had been well over a year. That she couldn’t recall when exactly, didn’t miss him, his company, or the uninspiring sex that hadn’t prompted anything close to the bliss-filled cries originating from the playroom told her parting ways was the right decision.

And she wouldn’t give the man before him her consideration—ever!

A soft whoosh followed by a dull clunk brought her back to the present. She looked down to see a coat had slid from the big pile on the bed to the floor while she’d been daydreaming. As she bent to retrieve it, another started to go and another. By the time she stopped the cascade of damp wool and expensive cashmere, four more had joined the first.

With a sigh, she gathered them up, deciding it would probably be better to lay them neatly on the bed rather than tossing them as she’d done before. When she stood, arms full, something shiny on the floor caught her eye. To see better over the mound of wool and leather, she twisted a bit and peered down at what she figured was a button, but Krista froze.

It wasn’t a button, or a key or a tie pin, which wouldn’t have been surprising. It was a gold money clip holding a rather large wad of bills. It must have fallen out of one of the coat pockets. But which one?

Krista opened her arms and let everything drop to her feet. She needed to keep this bunch of coats separate from the others until she figured out who it belonged to and put it back. She nudged the clip with her toe, flipping it over. There was something engraved into the gold.

She turned her head from side to side, trying to make out the swirling script, but couldn’t. Another item on her list of must-haves was glasses. She bent, ever so slightly, needing to get closer, but at the same time afraid to, approaching it warily as if it were a cobra ready to strike.

“Stupid,” she chided herself. “It’s only money.”

Scooping it up, she thumbed through the mostly large bills.

“There must be $1200 here,” she told the empty room.

From what she’d seen of the men in attendance tonight, their tight-fitting leather pants and snug-tailored trousers didn’t leave space for air, let alone wallets and other valuables. If one man left his money clip, there was bound to be a treasure trove of wealth in the others. The women wore even less than the men, some completely naked, and since they expected to be bound and flogged, they weren’t slinking around with their purses slung over their shoulder.

Those were on the bed, too—ripe for the picking.

It would be so easy to take what she needed.

“No,” Krista told herself firmly. “Your petty theft days are a thing of the past.”

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