What Happens After Dark

Table of Contents

 

 

“Super sexy . . . I love, love, loved it!”

—Bella Andre, author of
Love Me

“Deliciously erotic.”

—Susan Johnson,
New York Times
bestselling author

“An erotic, emotional adventure of discovery you don’t want to miss.”

—Lora Leigh, #1
New York Times
bestselling author

“So incredibly hot that I’m trying to find the right words to describe it without having to be edited for content . . . extremely stimulating from the first page to the last! Of course, that means that I loved it! . . . One of the hottest, sexiest erotic books I have read so far.”

—
Romance Reader at Heart

“Sexy.”

—
Sensual Romance Reviews

“Delightfully torrid.”

—
Midwest Book Review

“Bursting with sensuality and eroticism.”

—
In the Library Reviews

“The passion is intense, hot, and purely erotic . . . recommended for any reader who likes their stories realistic, hot, captivating, and very, very well written.”

—
Road to Romance

“Not your typical romance. This one’s going to remain one of my favorites.”

—
The Romance Studio

“Jasmine Haynes keeps the plot moving and the love scenes very hot.”

—
Just Erotic Romance Reviews

“A wonderful novel . . . Try this one—you won’t be sorry.”

—
The Best Reviews

“More than a fast-paced erotic romance, this is a story of family, filled with memorable characters who will keep you engaged in the plot and the great sex. A good read to warm a winter’s night.”

—
Romantic Times

 

WHAT HAPPENS AFTER DARK
PAST MIDNIGHT
MINE UNTIL MORNING
HERS FOR THE EVENING
YOURS FOR THE NIGHT
FAIR GAME
LACED WITH DESIRE

UNLACED

SHOW AND TELL
THE FORTUNE HUNTER
OPEN INVITATION
TWIN PEAKS
(with Susan Johnson)
SOMEBODY’S LOVER

Published by the Penguin Group
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Copyright © 2011 by Jennifer Skullestad.

 

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. HEAT and the HEAT design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

PRINTING HISTORY

Heat trade paperback edition /November 2011

 

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Haynes, Jasmine.

What happens after dark / Jasmine Haynes.—Heat trade paperback ed.

p. cm.

ISBN : 978-1-101-54583-6

I. Title.

PS3608.A936W47 2011

813’.6—dc22

2011011591

 

 

Thanks to my special network of friends who support me, brainstorm with me, and encourage me: Bella Andre, Shelley Bates, Jenny Andersen, Jackie Yau, Ellen Higuchi, Kathy Coatney, Pamela Fryer, Rosemary Gunn, and Laurel Jacobson. And of course, thank you to my agent, Lucienne Diver, and my editor, Wendy McCurdy.

HE TIPPED HIS HEAD BACK, SAVORING THE FEEL OF HER MOUTH ON him. Christ. She knew every nerve that excited him. Dropping his chin, he opened his eyes to drink in the sight of her down on her knees on the plush navy carpet, her silky black hair cascading down the slope of her back. With red fingernails, red lips, and alabaster skin, she was more beautiful than any model gracing the cover of a fashion magazine.

He groaned as she hit a sweet spot with her tongue. His legs trembled, his tension rising, need pulling at him.

For six months, she’d been his to command. Since the night he’d won her away from Derek, her bruiser boyfriend, in a downtown club. She wasn’t made for the club scene, and he’d taken her from Derek as if she were the war prize in hand-to-hand combat, which technically she was, since he’d decked the guy to rescue her.

And what a prize she was. Squeezing his cock, she tantalized him, drove him mad. He thought his head would explode. Shoving his fingers through her hair, he pushed her back. “Not yet,” he murmured.

She gazed up at him with eyes the shade of sapphires. “Did I do something wrong, Master?” Her voice was soft, sweet, like the gentle babble of a distant brook.

She insisted on calling him Master as if he were her dom and she his submissive. He’d never gone in for the dominance and submission lifestyle, but after he found her in that San Francisco sex club, he’d read a bit on the Internet. There were aspects of it he enjoyed immensely—tying her down, blindfolding her, a good spanking, toys, forcing her to push her sexual limits—but other elements, humiliation, degradation, making her cry, giving her to another man as if she were chattel—which was what he’d caught Derek doing—that stuff, not so much. She liked to be dominated, but she needed to feel special. She needed approval. She withered when she was ignored.

He couldn’t have ignored her if he’d tried. Even when she wasn’t within sight, he fantasized about her. Hot fantasies where she was handcuffed, spread out on his bed, and begging him to crawl between her legs. Yeah, he liked the dominant role. “I told you not to make me come yet,” he said sternly.

“You should punish me for that,” she whispered. “Because I’m such a slut, and I’m bad.”

That was another thing she liked, the name-calling. Bitch, slut, even worse. At first he’d used the names because they made her wild. But they made him burn hotter, too. Being with her had taught him how sexy a little dirty talk could be. And then there was the punishment thing . . .

“Get on the bed, whore,” he ordered, and his erection surged, his blood pumping faster.

She bit her bottom lip, drew in a breath, her nostrils flaring with her excitement. Then she rose gracefully, her movements steady. He’d closed the blinds against the cold January night, and the soft lighting of his bedroom illuminated her slender body, the elegant curves of her back and bottom. Her limbs were long and lithe, her breasts small, the areoles dusky pink buttons. She was a tall woman at five nine, and barefoot, she was only a couple of inches shorter than him. He’d never been worried about his height; Derek had been taller and bigger than he was, but he’d still won the girl.

She climbed onto the big bed on all fours, her ass heart-shaped.

“On your back,” he instructed. “Spread your legs and arms.”

She laid down, her pussy glistening. The rich burgundy of the bedspread made her skin glow. “I know I’ve been bad, Master. You need to punish me and call me the names I deserve.”

For her to feel that way, he’d assumed she’d had bad relationships in the past that had marked her with some deep-seated insecurities. Derek the horse’s ass certainly wasn’t the first. He also couldn’t deny his desire for a little tender lovemaking and more intimacy. He wanted to know more about her, exchange more than sex, reach a deeper level. But there was power in dominating her, too. They both excelled at dirty, nasty games. He’d bought the fur-lined handcuffs; then he’d bought the four-poster bed to attach them to. The scarves in the top drawer of his dresser—which could be used as either blindfolds or bindings—hid a variety of toys he’d used on her.

He hoped to God one of his daughters didn’t start rooting around in there during their frequent trips home from college.

“Scarves or handcuffs?” He could gauge her mood by the kind of restraints she asked for. “Which do you deserve, you dirty little bitch?”