Authors: MS Parker
A Rylan Novella
(Pleasure Book 2.5)
By M.S. Parker
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Belmonte Publishing LLC
Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC.
I'd sworn to myself that I'd never give my heart away again, that I'd be content with meaningless flings. So why did I feel so empty?
we take another step back into sexy billionaire, Rylan Archer’s past. Still a bachelor at twenty-eight, Rylan is everything a woman could want. Handsome. Intelligent. Rich.
But ever since he caught his fiancée cheating on him with another woman, he's sworn off love and relationships. Only now, he finds himself unfulfilled and wondering if, maybe, he's made a mistake.
Don't miss the arousing novella that gives you another glimpse into the mind of Rylan Archer, the sexy billionaire in M.S. Parker's
Her body was limp in my arms as I maneuvered us under the blankets. My muscles still trembled from how hard I'd come, but I managed to get us situated and comfortable. I slid my arms around her and pulled her close as she curled up against me, her head on my chest. The gesture looked so natural for her that it made my heart hurt. I stroked her dark hair as her eyes slowly closed. The deep ebony black falling around her shoulders was new, but hair color didn't matter to me. Whether her hair was the bright blue she'd worn when we'd first met or her natural color like now, she was the same woman.
No, I amended. She wasn't the same, but it had nothing to do with her appearance. She'd changed her hair color and removed her eyebrow and bellybutton piercings, but not because I'd asked her to. She'd done it because she was feeling more comfortable in her own skin. It was funny. Most people assumed that, because of the way she dressed, she had to be confident, not caring what others thought. I knew, however, that while some of her appearance was personal preference, some of it had been her way of shielding herself from being hurt again. A disguise.
Anger flared up inside me and I tightened my arms around her. I hated knowing that she'd spent the first thirteen years of her life being abused in ways that I didn't want to imagine. The problem was, it didn't matter whether or not I wanted to think about the past or not. Images were already seared into my brain. She'd told me only a fraction of what she'd suffered and it had been worse than anything I could've dreamed up. I wasn't a naïve person, far from it, but I never would have thought someone could do such awful things to a child. Especially the child’s mother. I supposed it was more the difference between concept and reality. Knowing it on an intellectual level was one thing. Loving someone who'd actually had those things done to her was quite another.
I smiled as my fingers lazily trailed up and down her spine. I'd thought I'd been in love with Lara Roache, so much so that I'd been ready to marry her. When I'd found her in bed with another woman, I'd been devastated, heart-broken. I knew now, though, that what I'd felt for Lara had been only a fraction of true love. Losing Lara had made me swear off relationships, determined that I wouldn't put my heart out there until I found someone I thought was worth the risk.
Then I'd fallen in love with Jenna Lang, this strong, vulnerable, amazing woman. I wasn't entirely sure how it had happened. I wasn’t looking for love. In fact, I'd been close to giving up. Not just on love, but on everything. I'd had family, friends, a thriving business doing what I loved, and no-strings-attached sex with gorgeous women...and it hadn't been enough.
I kissed the top of Jenna's head. I knew she sometimes felt like I'd rescued her, helped her heal from her past, but she had no idea that she'd saved me just as much. I might not have been subjected to the horrors of her past, but I'd essentially stopped living and I hadn't even known it until I'd met her.
I'd heard all the clichés, but I'd never truly understood any of them until Jenna had come into my life. It had been like I'd been asleep all my life until I saw her. Like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky. Seeing in color instead of black and white. Like the freshest breath of air. Water for a dying man. Every cliché I'd ever heard.
My chest ached with the strength of emotion coursing through me. It hadn't just hit me fast, it had hit me hard. After Lara, I'd tried telling myself that I'd be careful the next time I met someone I might care about, but I'd had no choice in the matter. I'd fallen for Jenna so quickly that it had almost frightened me, and it had been torture holding back when all I'd wanted to do nearly from that first moment was kiss her until neither of us could breathe. I'd seen how fragile she was beneath that tough exterior and hadn't wanted to scare her off with the depth of what I felt.
Even so, I knew people thought we were moving too fast. I'd only known her for four months and I'd already asked her to move in with me. What I hadn't told anyone was that, if I'd had my way, I would've kept her with me after what happened with Christophe. I'd known before then that I'd loved her, but that had made it clear to me how much.
When I thought about how close I'd come to letting her get hurt, to losing her, I couldn't breathe. I’d never have forgiven myself if Christophe had harmed her. I didn't even want to think about something worse than an assault.
I wrapped my body more securely around her, loving that she trusted me enough to let me hold her while she slept. I was so grateful that she'd agreed to move in with me. I needed her to be there, needed to know that she was safe. And I needed her here for me. She made me a better man, a stronger man.
I didn't know what I'd do if I lost her, but it wouldn't be good. I wasn't sure I could survive it. Or if I'd want to. In a short time, she'd become my life, and I could never go back to the way I'd been.
Four Months Earlier
She'd been watching me for two months, peeking up at me through lowered lashes as other men led her past me. I'd been frequenting The Den for a few weeks, choosing whichever free Subs caught my attention, when she'd appeared. She was small, barely five feet tall, and if she weighed a hundred pounds, I'd have been shocked.
While I didn't exactly have a type when it came to physical appearance – all hair colors, eye colors and skin tones welcome – I did generally prefer women who were at least average height and had some curves or muscles. Women like her, ones who were so petite, I always felt like I had to hold back or run the risk of breaking them. And while I was a Dom and enjoyed some S&M play, I wasn't into causing real pain.
Tonight, she'd apparently decided she wasn't going to take no for an answer. I'd taken a seat at my usual table and ordered a drink, then I'd seen her. Like a good Sub, she'd had her head down and hadn't looked anyone in the eye, but instead of staying at the fringes, waiting for a Dom to approach her, she came straight towards me.
Her long, strawberry blonde hair was done up with pins, leaving just a few strands free to frame a youthful face. I knew that no one in The Den was under twenty-one, but she barely looked old enough to be out of high school. What she was wearing, however, was far from high school dress code.
The skirt was leather but barely enough material to be considered a skirt. I suspected that if she'd sat down, I'd know if she was wearing panties. Her top was a corset that ended above her belly button and pushed her small breasts up enough to give her the illusion of cleavage. Her heels were dangerously high and her legs bare. The only accessory she wore was a leather collar around her neck.
Her name was Sarah, though I suspected it probably wasn't her real name. That was fine; I hadn't told her mine at all. I'd laid all that out before we'd left The Den. No last names. No follow-up. When we were finished, I'd have a cab take her home. She wasn't to come back to the house or try to find me. If we met at the club and decided to play together again, that was fine, but we weren't a couple and we would never be one. If I ever fell in love again, it wouldn’t be with someone I met at a bdsm club.
Sarah made a noise, drawing my attention back to her. The sound was muffled by the ball gag I'd strapped on a couple minutes ago. I didn't intend to keep it in very long since I enjoyed hearing the sounds and noises that came with good sex, but I'd wanted to truss Sarah up a bit first. I didn't always have partners who wanted to be bound and gagged.
She was spread-eagle on the bed, still clothed, though her skirt was rucked up enough to confirm my previous suspicions that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. I was also pretty sure she had her clit pierced, which made me wonder if her nipples were pierced too. While I wasn't sure I'd want to date someone with those body parts pierced, they did have their uses during bdsm play.
I pulled my shirt over my head and ran my fingers through my dark hair to smooth it down. I needed a haircut. It was starting to get that slightly wild look that most people didn't consider very professional. As Rylan Archer, CEO of Archer Enterprises, I did have a public face to maintain. I rolled my eyes as I thought of the magazine that had called a couple weeks ago. They didn't just want me to be rich and smart, apparently I was hot too, and that made me one of business' most eligible bachelors. I wasn't stupid. I knew I was good-looking. Eyes that were a unique shade of blue-violet, tall, in shape...I'd been fending off advances from would-be girlfriends even before I became a billionaire.
I tossed my shirt onto the floor and then removed my pants. I kept my black boxer-briefs on though. I wouldn't be getting completely naked until she was stripped and begging to be fucked.
I climbed onto the bed and began to undo the corset. I loved the front-fastening ones for situations such as this. It made it a lot easier to get to what I wanted. I took my time, undoing each lace tie from the bottom up, exposing tanned skin inch by inch. I skimmed my fingers across her stomach and felt her catch her breath, or at least as much as she could.
I looked up at her. “Are your nipples pierced?”
“If you can stay still while I play with them, I'll take out the ball gag. Then I'll make you come.” I nipped at her stomach and she jerked. “But if you can't, I'll take out the gag and replace it with my cock.”
She nodded in understanding, eyes practically glowing with lust.
I let the two sides of the corset fall apart, exposing small but perky breasts. Her nipples were small as well, the color of milk chocolate. Through each one was a gold hoop, thicker than regular nipple rings, enough so that I suspected they'd been specially made.
I flicked one with a finger and Sarah didn't move. “Good girl.” I poked the tip of my finger into the hoop. “Did you have these made?” She nodded. “Let me guess, strong enough to put weights on?” She nodded again, cheeks flushing.
I might not have been into the whole weighting thing, but hey, as long as it was consensual, who was I to judge what got someone off. I grasped the hoop between my thumb and forefinger and slowly twisted it. I heard the muffled moan, but she didn't move. I watched her carefully for any sign of stopping. She'd set a couple hard limits, but unless she used her safe word – apples – or snapped her fingers, she was up for pretty much anything.
I leaned down and flicked my tongue against the hoop, then circled her nipple, watching it harden into a tight little point. I covered her other breast with my hand, squeezing as I took her nipple and some of her breast into my mouth. I sucked hard on the sensitive flesh, sliding my lips closed until only her nipple remained in my mouth. She was making all sorts of noises, but she didn't move. Damn, she had some serious self-control. My tongue played with the cool metal, warming it. When I took the hoop between my teeth and tugged, every muscle in her body tensed.