LooseCorset

Christine
Rains

Dice and Debauchery, Book 1

A weekend away at a convention is exactly what overworked
student Morgan needs. Dressed as her character from her favorite online game,
Morgan is braced—seriously, could her corset be tighter?—to meet the other
players. As Lady Gyrfalcon, she’s ready for everything—except her intense
attraction to Dean. A clandestine meeting in the hallway of the hotel and
Morgan’s corset is looser but now she can’t breathe for entirely different
reasons.

Utterly charmed, Morgan decides to roll the dice and indulge
in a fantasy-worthy weekend of sexy roleplaying, scorching sex and
life-altering orgasms. Still, through it all Morgan is too smart to believe the
chemistry constantly stripping her of costumes and control can last more than
the length of the convention. But if she wants to keep a relationship so
intense she thought it only existed in fiction, she’s going to have to let go
of her cool-headed logic and allow herself to fall far and fast for the perfect
guy.

A
Romantica®
contemporary erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

Geek girl problem #31: Your flat-chested best friend
is a cosplayer who tries to fit you into her costumes when you’re built like
Rose Tyler from Doctor Who.

“My boobs are touching my chin.” I tugged at the bottom of
my corset and then thought better of it. All it would take was one wrong move
and I’d spill out everywhere. What in the world had possessed me to wear this
thing?

“They are not,” Emily snipped as the elevator doors shut,
giving us a moment alone inside the car. The orc barbarian on the Welcome to
Gen Con 2014 poster glared at us.

Ah yes, a pushy best friend.

Emily pursed her rouged lips then yanked my hand away from
the corset. “Well, lift your head and they won’t. Stop being a baby, Morgan.
You look good.”

Okay, maybe I did look all right. The costume was exactly
what my character from our online role-playing group would wear. Black riding
skirt with knee-high boots and gloves that extended most of the way up my arms,
with sheaths on my forearms for the blades. Plus an over-the-bust S-bend
corset. All meticulously handcrafted by Emily.

But that was beside the point! I could hardly breathe. To
take a deep breath, I’d likely break the laces. How was someone supposed to
feel sexy if they couldn’t move properly?

“The whole group will be there tonight. Do you understand
how big this is?” Emily ruffled her skirts, showing off more of her
fishnet-clad legs. A plastic pistol was strapped to her skinny right thigh. “We
all said we’d dress as our characters from Steampunk Quest. It’ll be like the
game has come to life, and since you’re the resistance leader, you have to have
your outfit done right.”

The bell dinged and the elevator bumped once as it came to a
stop at the lobby. I sighed. “Because I look so much like Geneve Gyrfalcon.”

“And I look like Cora Osprey the Third. That’s not the
point.” The doors whooshed open as Emily rolled her eyes. Her heels clicked on
the tiles as she stepped out of the elevator. “We’re just having a bit of fun.
It’ll make it more comfortable for everyone to get to know one another if we
can fall back on our characters. Nerds aren’t exactly the most social savvy of
folks.”

“Thank you, Madame Obvious.” I snorted and followed. I
wrapped my arms around my body, but there was no way to cover my chest. I
should’ve demanded a jacket to go with the outfit.

Two young men in Victorian-styled coats waved at us from
near the front entrance. I nipped my lower lip. This was it. Two years of
gaming online with these people. A game I loved more than any other. I stuffed
all my fears of how meeting would affect the game into a mental closet and
bolted it.

I could be Geneve Gyrfalcon for one night.
Chin up. Time
to have some fun.

Emily ran across the lobby. “Josh! Andrew! Oh my god! Love
the jackets!”

I didn’t dare run. Too much jiggle.

The guys were exactly as they’d described themselves. Josh,
tall and scruffy with black-framed glasses, and Andrew, short and clean shaven.
Looked like he’d nicked himself with a razor a few times. From the way his hand
shook when he took mine, I could guess why.

“Lady Gyrfalcon.” Andrew kissed the back of my hand and then
did the same to Emily’s. “Lady Osprey.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Captain Cashan.” Emily curtsied,
giggling behind a hand in an overly dramatic ladylike manner. “And you as well,
Sir Edgehill.”

It was easier to fall into character than I expected, but I
was relieved to let Emily take the lead in it all. When Patrick and Sydney
arrived, the LARPing went into full swing. Patrick’s beard was the envy of
every male that passed by, and Sydney’s gigantic bosom made mine feel tiny by
comparison.

I was content to fade into the background until the last two
members of our group approached. There was no mistaking them. My breath hitched
in my throat. As if I didn’t have trouble breathing already! A spark of heat
ignited between my legs and bloomed in my cheeks.

Russell was the eldest member of our group at thirty, but
still dashing with his handlebar mustache and dapper suit. He carried a cane
with an ornate silver head. But it was his cousin Dean that made my flesh
tingle with the thought of his gloved hands upon it. His long black coat flared
out behind him as he strode toward us with his sword bumping against his side.
Goggles rested upon his head, mussing his dark-brown locks which framed a long
but gorgeous face.

Oh damn. Their characters were rivals. I shouldn’t be
mooning over him!

Introductions echoed in my ears. Did I stutter? I couldn’t
hear myself so well. Wait…were my nipples hard? God, I hoped no one could see
them through the cups of the corset. What an idiot I was to have let Emily put
me in the blasted thing!

The group headed into the hotel pub. The dim lighting only
added to the weird haze. I banged my hip against a divider and stifled a grunt
of pain, hoping no one noticed my lack of grace. Glancing over my shoulder, it
appeared no one saw except, wait, was Dean staring at my ass? Stomach
fluttering, I looked away before he realized I had caught him at it.

Finding a corner table, drinks and food were ordered. We
fell in and out of character, but so many laughs were had, none of us cared.
Just like online, everyone got along wonderfully. And just like in our private
forum, I was the quiet one. I listened and laughed and stole peeks at Dean
sitting three chairs away from me.

The photos of him online were a gross misinterpretation of
how good-looking he truly was. Not super tall and muscled, but lean and sleek,
lounging like a lazy cat. He was a fencer, right? Or was it his cousin? I
couldn’t remember. It was so hard to think straight when images of what he
might look like wearing only those goggles flashed through my head.

“Still plotting my demise, Lady Gyrfalcon?” It wasn’t
Russell’s voice but his cane tapping against my squished bust that jerked me
out of my fantasy. “This is just a friendly meal amongst compatriots. Of
course, if you truly would like to kill me, I’d be happy to take you to my room
for a drink and give you an opportunity to make your move.”

My face flamed with color as everyone chuckled. Gyrfalcon
did wish Attwell Slator dead. He was a slick politician, the devil in disguise.
And had he just poked my boobs?

I grabbed the head of the cane and tossed my head back. “If
you would, Governor, keep your skinny little rod to yourself, lest I give in to
the urge to snap it in half.”

Every male at the table cringed. Emily applauded and Sydney
held up her fist to be bumped.

“When I kill you, you will not see it coming, and it
certainly won’t be in the comfort of your suite.” I stood, feeling Gyrfalcon
strengthening me, and swept my gaze across the table. Was Dean smirking? His
lips pursed with it just slightly. Delicious. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must
attend to some business.”

I rapped my fist against Sydney’s with a wink and walked
away to the restrooms. One breath. All I needed was one good breath.

Inside the women’s bathroom, I loosened the laces and sucked
in several deep breaths. My breasts, the traitors, popped out a few times, but
I stuffed them back in as I used a hand to fan myself. I wanted to blame the
corset for making me so hot, but one look at Dean had done me in. I’d need a
cold shower to help me sleep tonight.

After blotting my chest with a cool paper towel, I realized
I couldn’t do the corset back up myself. And I’d left my cell back in the room.
Frak!

Think clearly. Be rational. What would the Doctor do?

He wouldn’t be wearing this ridiculous contraption to
begin with.

The hallway where the bathrooms were was pretty dark. Maybe
I could wave Emily over. If Emily could turn her attention away from the guys.

Taking one more deep breath, I stepped into the hall and
peered over at their table. I bit at my lower lip. Emily’s back was to me, but
Sydney might be able to see me. I waved, holding on to the corset with one
hand. When no one noticed, I wondered if I should shout.

Wait. There was an empty chair. His chair.

“Did you need a hand?” Dean’s breath was warm against my
bare shoulder.

I turned slowly. My arm brushed him because he stood so
close. With my heart pounding, I couldn’t find my voice. God, he was glorious.
And when he smiled, an impish glint shone in those sexy hazel eyes.

Two cold showers tonight. No, three.

Wetting my lips, I forced myself to say something, anything
that would be less embarrassing than just standing there drooling. “Come to
kill me in a dark alley, Sir Thorton? Catch me unaware and undo the resistance
in one silent motion?”

Dean’s grin widened. “Who said my plan was ever to kill you?
You always assume, but you know so little of my desires.”

His words flowed smoothly, lilting toward an English accent.
My knees threatened to give out. My lower abdomen tightened as a new rush of
heat raced through me. How I wanted to know his desires. Intimately.

“I know of your ambitions. And how you’re in the Governor’s
debt. With a drink in one hand, he points with the other, and you kill.” I
could write dialogue for Gyrfalcon in my sleep. Normally I’d be sharp about it,
not all husky and sultry. I grasped the leather of the corset tighter as my
nipples threatened to poke over the top.

Dean lifted a hand, pausing to show it was empty, and
tenderly brushed a curly lock of my hair back from my face. “I might be in his
debt, but I am not his dog. What would you do if I told you,” he leaned in, his
right cheek grazing my left, “I was a double agent? I work for him only to bring
him down. I want to work with you.”

My heart skipped a beat. The heat of his body called to
mine. I wanted nothing more than to drop the stupid corset and press myself
against him. Squeezing my thighs together, I tried to contain the ache between
my legs. “A double agent, hmm? How do I know you’re not trying to con me?”

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already. All I can
offer you is my word.” He eased back only a few inches, enough to stare into my
eyes. His fingers lingered on my neck. He smelled of leather and Irish Spring
soap. Somehow it was immensely exotic.

“What if I say it isn’t enough?” My question was a gruff
whisper.

“Then I’ll have to convince you it’s your side I want to be
on.”

Before I could ask how, his lips claimed mine. My eyes fluttered
closed. It was no gentle kiss, but neither was it rough and inexperienced. Was
this part of his act? And if it was, did I care?

Nope. Not one bit!

My arms wound around his middle and under his coat as our
bodies came together. The pommel of his sword poked my hip, and I was tempted
to make a joke about it.
Is that a blade or are you just happy to see me?
Lame. So lame. And besides, my mouth had better things to do.

Our tongues tangled as he moaned into the kiss. Dean pushed
me back into the deeper darkness of the hall and to the side where there was a
fire door, locked and unlit. I dipped my hands down and under the bottom of his
shirt to touch his flesh. Even through my gloves, I could tell he was as hot as
I was and trembling slightly.

My corset slipped when one of my hardened nubs rubbed
against a button on his coat and sent a fiery lance right down to my molten
core. I gasped and jerked back a little. The corset sat awkwardly upon my hips.
Our kiss broke as both of us looked down at my bared chest.

My first instinct was to yank up the garment and flee to the
safety of my room. But his intake of breath stopped me. He gaped, eyes wide and
lips parted.

Dean’s fingers followed an invisible trail from my neck over
my collarbone to the swell of my breasts. “Beautiful.”

My skin sizzled where his fingers had been and my breasts
heaved, begging to be touched.

Guys had always liked my big boobs. It was probably the only
reason I ever got any action. No one liked wild, curly hair like River Song’s
or the freckles that tarnished my skin as if I’d been counting the times I’d
seen the Silence. But the way Dean said that, as if he was worshiping them. Me?
No guy had ever said such a thing.

I mashed my mouth to his again, passion exploding. My
fingers dug into his back as he cupped one breast. It overflowed in his hand,
jiggling as if demanding more. He kneaded the soft orb and flicked his thumb
over my already supersensitive nipple. My whimper gave him incentive to do it
again and then traced around the nub before tugging upon it.

Dean’s mouth left mine and was fast upon that hard nipple.
Licking, sucking, dragging his teeth lightly over it.

A hot mess didn’t even begin to describe the way I felt. I
couldn’t form a coherent thought. All my sensors were fried, sending me flying
into a lusty wormhole that would take me God knows where. And I wanted nothing
more than to lose myself in it. In him.

Turning his attention to the other breast, Dean groped it
and sucked upon it until I gave a tiny cry. He kissed up to my neck and traced
his tongue along my jugular, flicking my earlobe with the tip of it.

I reached up with one hand, running my fingers through his
hair, careful of the goggles. Another mental flash of him naked and hard with
only the goggles on pushed my hips against his.

Oh, he was hard. And thick. Much more impressive than his
sword.

A sound like a groan and a growl vibrated up from his
throat. So sexy. I thrust my hips against him again and was rewarded by the
same hybrid rumble.

More fiery kisses. Uncontrollable. I was crazed, like a
barbarian with bloodlust. Except this was
lust
lust. Yup, deep thoughts,
thy name is Morgan Reid.

Dean reached down and nudged the corset out of his way to
rub between my legs. I jolted and moaned, pressing against his palm with a demand
for more. How I could be so sensitive through the layers of clothes, I didn’t
know, but if he kept stroking me like that, I was going to come right there in
the back of the pub.