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❤Cover Design by: N. Isabelle
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The hands kneading my flesh into submission are strong, yet
gentle. Rough yet tender. His talented fingers dig deep into my naked flesh
applying the perfect amount of pressure, bending me to his will.
His will which now entices me and burns itself into my every
pore, ruining me for any other’s touch—but his. Once a stubborn and independent
woman, I find myself wanting to submit; to give him all that I am and power
over everything I can be with his guidance.
Camden Daniels has a voice full of sin built to destroy my
mental walls. The dulcet sonnet of his tone controls my resolve with but a
single utterance from his lips:
“Undress for me."
Genre Erotica/ Contemporary Romance
Expected Publication Date
September 17th 2014
Excerpt:
Prologue
“Undress for me.”
That was all he said. No preamble or false pretense
concerning what we were—I was—here for. It was all for pleasure. A fuck. He
would never offer me more than that.
The sad part was that I now craved that illusive even more: a
relationship with all the benefits that came with being owned by Camden. Too
bad for me, it would never come to be, and that was a reality I’d come to
accept. Decisions had been made.
With a small nod, I acknowledged his command, then disrobed
before him. A shot of melancholy raced through me while the standard-issue spa
robe fell to my feet. Today would more than likely be the last time I entered
this room and served him my body. No longer would his hands squeeze and mold my
pliant flesh.
My heart stuttered at that thought. Was he going to let me
leave this room as just another client, the session having come to an end? Or
would he stop me?
Camden’s feet came into view, bare and perfect. Just like the
rest of him. My gaze traveled upward to the soft white linen pants he wore
whenever I was in his space. They were threadbare, almost nonexistent, and
indecent. The sweetest of tortures for me. His cock was thick and hard,
pressing at the thin fabric and doing nothing to hide his size or the drops of
liquid visibly seeping through the engorged head of his shaft. It twitched
under the heat of my gaze, and I licked my lips. How could he be so beautiful?
Be everything I never knew I wanted, but now desperately needed?
He isn’t yours. Those
three words brought things back into perspective. I would be strong. Had to be
…
“Look at me.” His voice; fuck him and the things they did to me.
“Please, gatita.”
My eyes snapped up and met his, which looked tortured and
desperate. “I need you here with me, not miles away. You know the rules.”
Rules. Funny.
The snort that escaped me wasn’t cute. It wasn’t meant to be.
“Which rules are you referring to? The ones that protect you from loving me?”
“Amanda, please let’s not ruin our time—”
I ignored his bullshit and continued to push. “Or are you
referring to the ones that make me feel like nothing but a dirty little secret?
Like I’m your whore?”
Camden’s nostrils flared and his fists clenched at his sides.
“Don’t you fucking ever—”
“Or what?” I laughed bitterly. There was no going back for us.
“Fuck, little girl.” He growled and reached out to grab my arm,
but I was quicker and pulled back.
I moved until my back hit the wall; the space between us gave me
just enough breathing room to get my point across. “Don’t,” I begged. My voice
was hoarse from having to keep my emotions under control. “Don’t feed me your
lies or excuses. It is what it is. I’m the client and you, my masseuse. Just do
what you’re being paid to do.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Camden stalked forward,
lithe, like a jungle cat trapping his prey. “Is this because of what happened
at Rage?”
I didn’t answer and looked away. Seeing him there, with her of all people, had crushed me.
“You know nothing happened, gatita.
I would’ve told you if it had.” He caged me in then, hands on the wall to
either side of my head. There was no escaping his perfection when he was this
close. “You can’t go all jealous on me and throw a tantrum when I don’t belong
to you.”
His words stung, yet they were just what I’d come to expect from
him. What I needed to hear to cut the emotional ties that held me his captive.
“That goes both ways, you know?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” The rumble in his
chest made my knees feel weak.
“Exactly what it states. I am not yours to hold onto anymore.”
Camden banged his fist once against the wall before pulling
away. He was too possessive of what he didn’t want to own.
“Amanda…I can’t.”
“Neither can I,” I added in a remorseful whisper, then pulled
myself off the wall.
My feet carried me over to the bed in the center of the room,
but before I laid down on the cold surface, I walked over to my purse and
pulled out a pair of panties. It wasn’t much in the way of coverage, but my point
had been made clear. Camden’s normally clear, blue eyes were stormy, flickering
from mine to my legs, and the physical representation of the invisible wall I
was erecting between us. He stayed silent as he stared at me. It was better this way. Hurt less.
Lying down, I grabbed the plain white sheet he kept for show on
the small table next to the bed and pulled it over my lower half. The weight of
his stare made my movements jerky. Thick tension surrounded me. His eyes burned
me.
“There’s somewhere I need to be within the next hour.” My low
tone sounded like a loud wail inside the small sanctuary, a room where opulence
and soothing music played in the background. This space was meant to be warm,
relaxing, and what others used to forget their worldly troubles. To let go.
For me, though, it was a different kind of release that came
with each session. I now yearned for what his fingers could make me do. The way
he tore pleasure from my body without asking permission. None was ever needed.
Camden conquered and dominated my body.
Only he could give me what I craved, both mentally and
physically. The way those masterful hands rubbed and extricated my troubles,
attracting my naturally submissive sensuality to come forward and play, was all
Camden.
His hand reached out and grabbed the sheet covering me. He
fisted the thin material in his hands but didn’t touch me, and I felt the
scorching waves of heat which rolled off his body.
“Where do you have to be, Amanda?” His question came out as a
low rumble, animalistic and hypnotic. “Its off-season, and you don’t have
practice.”
I shrugged and closed my eyes. “None of your business.”
“The fuck it isn’t,” he all but snarled and pulled the sheet
from my body. “Where the hell are you going?”
“To finally move on.” They were the wrong choice of words; I
knew they would be the moment they passed my lips.
“Never.”
One word was all he gave me before his hands flipped me over and
his mouth took possession of mine. Camden’s kiss told me everything he
couldn’t.
That I was his.
He wasn’t letting me go.
It also said he knew I was aware of his ownership over my
person. The same way he acknowledged my submission to his male dominance. There
was no other person for
either of us, yet he wouldn’t give in to me.
Sadly, between his bullshit excuses and client
non-fraternization rules, all I would ever be was Amanda Brooks to him. The
daughter of a city council member, a women’s college basketball player, and a
client.
It killed me to accept what had been plain to see, when all I
wanted was to forever be his sweet little gatita.
About the Author
Elena M. Reyes was born and raised in Miami Florida. She is the
epitome of a Floridian and if she could live in her beloved flip-flops, she
would. As a small child, she was always intrigued with all forms of art—whether
it was dancing to island rhythms, or painting with any medium she could get her
hands on. Her first taste of writing came to her during her fifth grade year
when her class was prompted to participate in the D. A. R. E. Program and write
an essay on what they’d learned. Her passion for reading over the years has
amassed her with hours of pleasure. It wasn't until she stumbled upon
fanfiction that her thirst to write overtook her world. She now resides in
Central Florida with her husband and son, spending all her down time letting
her creativity flow and letting her characters grow.
Connect with Elena M.
Reyes!
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