It’s on, the storm of the century, trapping Ana and Ash up in a mountain cabin. The snowplows don’t need to worry about their road. They melt the snow all on their own. But after the storm ends, can this “fake” romance survive reality, the harshest test of all?
The world already hates me for being a player. Now I’m a kidnapper, too.
I drove off with Ana while she was drunk as a skunk after a New Year’s party in Vegas. She didn’t exactly say she wanted to go away with me. In fact, when we last spoke she seemed pretty interested in quitting me. Then she passed out.
But that’s exactly why I need to get her away from it all, the celebrities and parties and cameras always flashing at us from all angles. I need to get her up into the mountains where I have a private cabin. Very private.
It’s just my dumb luck that we got snowed in. For days.
You remember show and tell in school? I’m not so good at the tell. But the show? That’s all me.
Now I have Ana all to myself, shielded from prying eyes, in our own private world. I can show her pleasure she’s never known before. She can let go of all of her inhibitions. No one will ever know.
I have days on end to show Ana exactly what she means to me, how I feel about her, and I won’t stop until she believes me. Or she’s melted into a puddle of orgasms. Or both. I’m starting to like the sound of both.
New Year’s Day I woke up in a mountain cabin with Ash Black, nothing but the sound of the wind and snow falling thick all around us. There’s nothing I’ve been more afraid of than this. Just us, no distractions, no paparazzi, no interfering agents or crazed fans. All that noise made it easier to hide from the feelings building up inside of me. I’m terrified of the way he makes me feel, the way I’m falling for him so hard.
But now he has me alone, snowed in, at his amazing mountain cabin. He’s all muscle and sex. His voice alone makes me wet. One touch sends me reeling, and he seems to sense and want to unlock all of my most secret fantasies, the ones I haven’t even admitted to myself I want.
This romance is fake. I keep telling myself that. I can’t really trust him. This is all pretend.
But then he pulls me close, presses a hand to the small of my back, kisses my throat and whispers low and wicked in my ear, “Let yourself go.” How am I supposed to say no to that?
One Month From Now
I pulled against my wrist restraints, panting as his tongue trailed a slow, teasing path down my stomach. A moan escaped my lips. I needed to touch him, fist my fingers in his thick, jet-black hair and dig my nails into his broad, muscular shoulders. But I couldn’t even see him. He’d blindfolded me. Twisting my head to the side, I could still picture him, tattoos licking along his bicep. The ridges of his abs, the start of his V.
“Please!” I couldn’t help but cry out. I needed more, needed his tongue lower, needed to be set free so I could at least touch myself if not him. He’d worked me up into such a frenzy. With a low, satisfied growl deep in his chest, he dipped his tongue in a lazy circle around my belly button. He insisted on having me his way, tormenting every inch of me until I begged for it.
“Ash!” I strained against my ties, spread-eagle on the king-size bed, but he’d fastened them well. All I succeeded in doing was arching up my back, further offering my naked breasts up for his pleasure.
He chuckled, deep and wicked, tracing my curves with his hand. “You like being tied up, don’t you, my Anika?” His fingers melted me as he stroked my limbs, up my side, along the swell of my breast. He paused and I held my breath, wondering what he might do next, feeling a throb deep in my pussy, drawing more slick, sweetness from my core. The anticipation, the submission, it made me crazy.
But he kept on going, up past my breast, along my collarbone, up my arm to circle my restraints. He drew my attention to his control, how he had me tied up, exactly where he wanted me.
“I knew you’d like it,” he murmured. “You’re so beautiful, laid out here for me.”
I panted like an animal and swallowed hard. A sliver of my mind still reared up in shock at what I was doing, what I was letting him do to me. Willingly turning myself over to him in complete submission. I’d never done anything like it before, letting someone tie me up. I’d thought about it, even touched myself fantasizing about it late at night. But never in my bland, boring, good girl what-passed-for-a-sex-life had I ever done anything like it.
Turned out that getting snowed in at a cabin in the mountains with Ash Black, the sexiest, hottest rock god on the planet brought out the naughty side in me.
A month ago, I never would have believed any of this would happen. Sure, I’d fantasized about the lead singer of my favorite band. Plenty of times. But I wasn’t alone in that. Ash Black had been on the cover of People magazine as sexiest man alive the last two years in a row. I think he’d starred in more than a few late-night fantasies.
But even my fantasies hadn’t taken me this far. A month ago, I never could have imagined this scene. I wouldn’t have recognized the naked woman, bound and blindfolded on the bed, writhing and whimpering beneath Ash’s large, powerful body.
Suddenly, I felt wet heat on my aching, erect nipple. I cried out as he sucked me, licked me, pleasure rocketing directly to my sex.
“You need this, Ana. Don’t you?” he whispered, husky. I could feel his stubble, rough along my soft breast as he circled my nipple, slowly, teasing me again.
“Yes!” I cried out. “Please!” I begged for release, not from bondage, but from the intensity of the building, cresting orgasm I could feel quivering up inside of me. I needed to let it out, and I needed him to free it from me.
“Oh! Please!” I begged, shameless.
“I knew you had this in you,” Ash whispered, up at my neck, licking, sucking me there at my sensitive flesh. Moaning, I tossed my head back, baring my skin, giving him full access. “From the second I met you, all buttoned up in that library, I knew.”
“You couldn’t have.” Even in my frenzied state, I knew it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. I hadn’t even known I’d had this wild, wanton sex goddess within my prim and proper exterior. A children’s librarian, I was the daughter of a strict, older couple of Russian immigrants, raised through generations of sacrifice and hardship to work and then work some more. I’d never cut loose before, not once. My largest act of rebellion had been to move to Brooklyn, an hour and a half from my childhood home in upstate New York. And listen to Ash Black’s pure, driven rock music late at night.
Now I had the man himself, the literal poster boy for bad boy rock stars. Or more accurately, he had me. All alone. In a cabin shut off from the world in the epic storm draught-stricken California had been waiting for for years.
“You can scream, Ana.” Ash licked at my collarbone, trailing fingers along my outstretched arms. “You can yell at the top of your lungs. No one will hear you.”
“Ash!” I cried out as he sank down once again, capturing my erect, aroused nipple between his teeth. He bit down just enough to make it burn so good. He palmed my breast, feasting on me, sucking hard, then light, just a whisper of a lick around my nipple as I panted and quivered. All the rumors about this man were true, every single one of them. He was an arrogant, rich playboy, a heartthrob and a heartbreaker, a panty-melting bad boy who had dozens upon hundreds of women throwing themselves at him night after night.
But he’d chosen me. It was me he’d tied down to his bed, me he had nasty, dirty plans for all night long. Me, alone with him, snowed in and at his mercy.
“You can scream when you come, Ana,” he whispered, trailing his tongue down my stomach. Slowly, so slowly. I moaned, wishing I could move, wishing I could bring my sex up to him and make things happen faster. I’d never felt so desperate, so crazed. Sex before Ash had always been blah, mostly forgettable, slightly regrettable. It had never felt anything like this rush of a roller coaster ride, this wild, heady plunge straight into the unknown.
“It will be our little secret,” he continued, down now at my hips. Large fingers over my smooth skin, he worshipped my curves, feathering kisses down the insides of my thighs. My ankles were bound at either side to the bedpost. Suddenly shy at my complete and total exposure, I held my breath. I couldn’t move. I had nowhere to go, no way to hide my arousal. With his face down now at my pussy, he could see me dripping for him, my swollen clit aching with need, throbbing and begging for his attention.
“Here in this cabin, you can let yourself go, Ana.” His words worked a dark, wicked spell around me, relaxing and surrendering me into the intensity of my pleasure. “Here, you can let me do all the things you’ve always wanted. Everything you’ve fantasized about.” He brought his fingers up, up my thighs, to finally, tormentingly, lightly graze my slick slit.
I gasped at the contact, so eager, so close. “That’s it, Ana,” he coaxed me with his words and his fingers. “Show me how much you need it. It’s just you and me here. No one will ever know. You can be my little slut. You can scream and come and show me how much you want it, how much you’ll beg for it. No one will ever know.”
“Yes,” I panted, beyond reason, almost beyond words. “Yes, please.” His lips were so close now, inches away from my sex. His tongue, so hot, so wicked, so near I could almost feel it, could imagine how good it would feel when he finally feasted on me.
“Ana,” he exhaled in satisfaction, that gravelly voice that drove women wild caressing me intimately. “So wet.” Reverently, he swept his fingers down my slick sex, lightly sliding them along, exploring where I was spread for him, aching and ready. “Surrender to me, Ana. The way you know you want to.”
Callie Harper writes contemporary romances so hot they may melt your ebook. You’ve been warned.
She is powered by coffee, wickedly sexy bad boys, and all things funny, intentional or otherwise. She is the author of OFF LIMITS to be released 12/15 and the BEG FOR IT series which will start being released in January 2016.
She lives in the gorgeous Bay Area with her family.
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