His for the Taking
Red Light Fantasies Book 1
by Brandi Evans Genre: Contemporary Romance
I love managing Red Light Lingerie, a sexy boutique in Dallas. I get to spend my days talking to people about bedroom wear, sex toys, and enhancement lotions for all occasions. But by far, my favorite erotic job perk is my sexy British boss, Maxwell Penn.
Max is a Matthew McConaughey look-alike who’s equal parts dreamboat and domineering pain in the neck, and I regularly fluctuate between “I want to bed him” and “I want to strangle him.” But still, yum.
The paradigm of our relationship, however, changes irrevocably when a lingerie designer, a friend of Max’s from Britain, comes to town, and I have to stand in for a no-show lingerie model. Before I can say G-string, I find myself sandwiched between Max and his dark-n-sexy friend.
I’d be in total heaven if it weren’t for the guilt swirling in Max’s blue eyes. I have no idea why it’s there, but I’m bound and determined to find out.
Publisher’s Note: This book contains descriptions of consensual activities, including eroticism and discipline. If you object to these elements, please do not read this book.
I yanked against my restraints. The material stretched with my movements, but my hands stayed firmly bound at the small of my back.
“See, Max? This is one sturdy piece of lingerie.”
My mind exploded with images of what they could do to me, completely helpless and practically naked. Should I worry? A smart woman probably would—but the look in Max’s eyes--
I’d never wanted him more than I did at that moment.
Garrett’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Also, I designed the top so the two front halves can be pushed together to allow quick and easy access to the tits without having to untie any restraints already put in place. Would you like a demonstration of that, too?”
Max’s gaze stayed locked with mine, never veering, never faltering. “I’m thinking.”
I bit my bottom lip and shook my head. But who was I fooling? I’d wanted Max to touch me for a long time. I’d dreamed about it and gotten off while imagining him fucking me. But what about Garrett? I’d fantasized about being with multiple men, too, so I’d consider his presence icing on the beefcake.
Part of me wished Max and I were alone, but it was probably better we weren’t. Less intimate, which I needed. As it was, the intensity of his stare threatened to melt me into a puddle.
“Please touch me, Max,” I whispered, unable to stop myself. At least, I think I verbalized the words, but I may have simply mouthed them. “Please.”
Max’s eyes widened. His nostrils flared. And he hesitated a long, tortuous moment before stepping into me and yanking the garment’s outer edges into the valley between my breasts, completely exposing me—and then cupping the undersides of my breasts.
A Hot Mess Red Light Fantasies Book 2
Jealousy's a real bitch, but so is his ex-girlfriend.
Maxwell Penn is my lover, my boss, and my Dom. He pushes me emotionally as well as sexually, in all the ways a girl should be pushed by the man she loves. Sure, some days, I still swing back and forth between wanting to strangle him and wanting to straddle him, but I wouldn’t give him up for the world. Oh, did I mention there’s talk of him taking me to a Swingers' Ball at a local BDSM club?
So yeah, our relationship is positively sizzling. At least, it is until Boudoir Fashion Week, when Max’s college girlfriend explodes back into his life, and everything goes south. Giselle Dubois is tall, svelte, and so stunning that I feel the need to wear sunglasses whenever she’s around.
As she uses her sensuality and intimate knowledge of Max's past, Giselle embarks on a mission of manipulation to acquire something Max "took" from her years ago, but it’s not just knowledge of Max’s past she has in her arsenal. She knows my past. My family's secrets. The dark stain that has marred my family since I was a child. But Giselle isn’t the only threat facing us. There is another monster in our midst, one far more cunning and deadly.
Publisher’s Note: This love story contains elements of power exchange, multiple partners, a vindictive ex-girlfriend, and explicitly described sensual encounters. If these offend you, please do not purchase this book.
Max led me to a settee-looking piece of furniture along the back wall of what Viv had called the Dark Side, and now, I realized why the area had gotten its name. The lights were set considerably lower over here. I could still see my surroundings, sort of like Max's bedroom when he set the lights to dim. It would be too easy to get lost in one's self over here.
Sir turned to me and took my lips in a hard kiss. "We're about to begin. This is the time to shut off your brain and just exist on sensation. Do you understand?"
"Very good." He kissed me again. "What's the club safe word?"
"What's our safe word?"
"Use them if you need them. Otherwise, just feel."
Without waiting for me to respond, Max sat on the right side of the settee. The side he occupied had an armrest; the other did not. Nor was the opposite side flat. The surface was curved like the Liberator chaise he'd added to our playroom at his house. The gentle rise and fall were ideal for putting what he called his "favorite parts of my body" on display. This time, however, he wasn't planning to put me on show for his visual pleasure alone.
I swallowed hard.
"Finish your drink," he ordered, "and we'll get started."
The timbre of his voice had changed. It'd dropped in volume but increased in authority. All aspects of the world-renowned businessman were gone, leaving behind only my Dom.
"Yes, Sir." I closed my eyes and tossed back the last of my drink. I hoped the heady rush of the alcohol would hit sooner rather than later. My nerves needed a serious dousing.
"Good girl," Max crooned. "Now set the glass down and remove the outer covering of your outfit. Don't worry with the undergarments. We'll deal with those when the right time comes."
"As you wish, Sir."
I can do this. I can do this. I can motherfucking do this!
After placing my glass on the floor beside the sofa—there were no tables nearby—I eased down the outer fishnet. I kept my gaze pinned on Sir as I did so, blocking out as much of the club as I could manage.
Max's gaze devoured me, and the expressions that soon followed sent my heart rate screaming into the stratosphere. Max looked at me as if he'd never wanted someone more. It was always the look he got when we were about to play, and I doubted I'd ever stop being so affected by the way I seemed to affect him.
With heat simmering in my bloodstream, I gave one last push, and the fishnet dropped into a pool at my feet.
Max made a "twirling" motion with his index finger. "Turn for me, little sub, slowly. I want everyone to see how truly spectacular you are, and then, I want you to kneel before me so every person here knows you are mine."
All Maxed Out
Red Light Fantasies Book 3
Brandi Evans was raised by a caravan of traveling Gypsies. She spent her days learning the ways of her people and her nights lost in legends as old as time. Okay, not really, but that's way more interesting than the truth!
In reality, Brandi grew up the oldest child of an ordinary family. Grade school, middle school, high school. Nothing extraordinary happened until she left the nest. She joined the military, went to college, got married, and became a mom. And somewhere along the way, she discovered she liked to read—and write!—stories hot enough to melt eReaders.