Authors: Sara Brookes
Tags: #Sara Brookes, #contemporary, #erotic romance, #romance, #bdsm, #submission, #dominance
Get Off Easy
Copyright 2015 Sara Brookes
Edited by: Briana St. James
Cover art and formatting design by
Silver Phoenix Labs
Cover Photography by:
Hot Damn Stock/The Killion Group, Inc.
Vector Dividers designed by:
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used factiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language that may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase.
Disclaimer: Please do not try any new sexual practice without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither the publisher nor the author will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained in this book.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned of distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in piracy of copyrighted materials in violation with the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
To every reader out there who finds their escape in the pages of books. You invite characters from every walk of life into your homes, and embrace their stories with passion and enthusiasm.
This book has truly been a labor of love as I set out on a different adventure in my professional writing career. Putting this book into your hands, dearest reader, was not without its harrowing moments, its pitfalls, and its triumphs. Along the way I had a wonderful group of people to support me, hand me tissues and A LOT of caffeine.
Bree, my editor, for your guidance, your enthusiasm and your always fabulous suggestions, I am eternally grateful. There aren’t enough ways in the universe to say
to express how indebted I am to you for picking my book out of the “slush” pile back in 2011.
Lisa, the champion of No Pants!, I don’t feel as though I can properly express how truly honored I am to have you as a part of my life. Even though there a hundreds of miles between us, you are always willing to listen to laughter and tears, and offer up some of the best damn cocktails around.
My PACT ladies, thank you for sprints, rants, ideas, and unwavering support through it all. Don’t know what I would do without you.
Chris, the entire time I wrote this book, our lives took a few very major curves. But we’re still here, baby...and we always will be. Love you.
arkness surrounded Grae. In her life. In her mind. And even in her office as she leaned back in her overstuffed, overpriced chair and yawned. The creature comforts weren’t enough to keep her interested in the image flickering on her computer screen. Not that well-chiseled abs didn’t do it for her. They totally did. But considering the fact she’d been the one to draw, define, and enhance each one of those tongue-licking indentions, the final product had lost its appeal hours ago.
As long as the female audience members went wild, she would keep plodding along. Not to mention, if she didn’t deliver, she wouldn’t be paid her hard-earned paycheck. As tempting as it was to continue, she desperately needed a break.
A quick glance at her trusty desktop clock showed she hadn’t stopped for over thirty-six hours. Since she was on a deadline, her director’s schedule won out over sleep and basic hygiene. Especially because she was under contract. If she wanted another shot at working with this director, she needed to have this guy’s abs painted on and swoon-worthy in the next three hours.
One hell of a reward awaited her after she completed her work, too.
As she made her way to the kitchen to refill her carafe, she tapped the reminder postcard that arrived two days ago against her chin. Fresh coffee would get her through. At least it had to. She’d worked under tighter deadlines, and on less sleep, than this project.
Thirty-six hours with no sleep was kid’s stuff.
Her reward, however, was not child appropriate.
No way. No how.
Kochran Duke was throwing one of his famous parties tonight. Which meant there was a distinct possibility Saint and Boyce would attend. They never missed a party at the converted armory. No telling what they’d be doing though.
It was always a surprise when it came to those two.
She shoved a fresh filter into the basket, dumped in beans and water, and realized she didn’t care. They could sit and read nursery rhymes to one another, and she’d still get off. Wasn’t as though she’d joined Kochran’s exclusive website only to watch the pretty boys play with their toys.
Okay, well, it wasn’t the
There was a touch of practicality to why she chose to spend her night watching porn.
And it had nothing to do with satisfying her voyeuristic tendencies.
Her former Master recommended the online dungeon when it became obvious she had all the desire and drive to submit, but none of the time. Noble House offered several levels of membership depending on participation or observation. The fees were steep, but it was a small price to pay for satisfying a guilty indulgence from the privacy of her home office.
Once she’d discovered two of her closest friends in college were Dominants at Noble House, her interest in the private club increased tenfold. Thanks to alumni updates from the university, she’d known they’d continued to date after they graduated. Even knew where they lived because of an article published six months ago in the yearly alumni newsletter about the building they’d saved from the wrecking ball and turned into an apartment complex. Knowing they were still together, and trying to change the world, warmed her heart.
And a few other strategic lady bits.
Someday she would visit Noble House. Though the idea of taking a vacation long enough to visit Northern California sounded absurd. With the constant trail of work following her wherever she went, taking a break was unheard of. Visiting friends she hadn’t seen in more than a decade was even more ludicrous. As was confessing she’d seen every one of their broadcasted scenes since she’d become a member.
And hunted through the archives.
Several times over.
The coffee pot chimed.
She dumped the contents into the carafe, then grabbed the French vanilla creamer. As she made her way back to her spacious office, her eyes slowly adjusted to the permanent darkness she’d created thanks to heavy light-blocking blinds. Day or night, the lighting in the room never changed. When she’d decided to leave the guaranteed contract with the big budget movie studio behind and become a freelancer, she’d invested in all the bells and whistles. No sense working from home without the proper equipment.
Six monitors wasn’t too much, right?
A quick check of the emails she’d been ignoring for the past few hours indicated the director was getting aggravated. Time to buckle down and turn out this masterpiece. Armed with a fresh cup of coffee, Grae leaned back to watch the fight sequence she’d been working on for the past week. She noted a few minor inconsistencies she could smooth over while she waited to see if she had approval. No need to waste her time if the director wanted to ditch the segment.
Task completed, she zipped the file, then dropped in onto her secure server. An email containing the link to the director was next and meant her part was complete. She flipped a switch to change over to her personal computer tower and waited for it to boot. When it finally beeped in greeting, she directed the browser window to Noble House’s main site. A few keystrokes, and the splash page for tonight’s event flashed onto the huge screen she’d mounted on the wall.
Two very familiar faces stared back at her.
Boyce Denali, the one on the left, wore heavy-duty leathers. Too bulky for working inside the club. These were the kind used for protection should he take a spill. Though she doubted he would ever be so careless. Boyce was the kind of man the pavement moved for. Dark blond, piercing blues, muscles to die for, and a chiseled bone structure even the most formidable Viking would find intimidating.
Ford Templar, on the other hand, was all dark and mysterious. Nicknamed Saint at the club, Ford was broody. Sulky. Dark hair. Olive skin. Lean muscles. The dark to Boyce’s light. Except his eyes. Those eyes. Eerily colored, they reminded her of glass Coke bottles. Rumor had it, his gaze could pierce right through to someone’s soul. While Boyce held a commanding air which demanded to be heard, Saint wore his power subtly but still all dominant authority.
Seemingly connected at the hip, the two men scened together every week. Much to her delight. Grae didn’t think she’d ever seen them work with a submissive alone. Not that the choice to only carry out ménage scenes affected their standing at the club. Not in the least. Every time they worked together, their scenes had been nothing short of spectacular.