For Jamie Stewart-Greer, BDSM is the perfect way to release the darkness inside him and use it for pleasure. But it’s getting more difficult to hide this side of himself—especially from the one person who elicits his most extreme, secret passions.
When his best friend died, Jamie promised he’d watch over his little sister, Summer Grace. Summer is a nearly irresistible sex kitten who’s been after Jamie since she was fourteen—and she’s absolutely taboo. But now she’s hunting him in his territory—the Bastille, New Orleans’ most infamous BDSM club—and Jamie knows he’s in trouble.
Summer is more than ready to indulge Jamie’s secret kinks, and as their relationship spirals into the darkest recesses of absolute pleasure, it only stirs her desire for more. If Jamie is willing to give Summer what she wants, it’s going to turn love into the most dangerous fetish of all.
Jamie took her hand and began to lead her from the office and through the door that led to the shop. Some small part of Summer’s subspaced brain was in awe of the fact that she was naked except for her shoes, her ass warmed by the stunning Jamie’s wonderfully cruel hands, her body soft all over after coming at his command. And now he was taking her into an auto shop of all places to do God only knew what to her. She’d never felt more blissful. She refused to acknowledge the small part of her psyche that was screaming at her to run before she got hurt—heart-hurt.
Nope. Not thinking about it.
But what the . . . ?
“What the fuck, Jamie? Really? You keep a play bag at work?” she couldn’t help but ask when he grabbed a black duffel bag from a chair by the door and slung it over his shoulder.
“Is ‘what the fuck’ a safeword, Summer Grace?” he asked with a small chuckle before he must have recognized the look on her face. “Ah. Sweetheart, I have never played anyone else here.”
She smiled—she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stand to think that he regularly brought women to his shop for play. It was different than The Bastille, in her mind, however unreasonable that might be. But she was unreasonably thrilled that his shop was virgin territory, that he was popping its cherry for her.
“But yes,” he went on, “I keep a spare play bag in here for those nights I work too late to go home before I head to the club. The equipment is limited, but there’s enough in there for me to work with. Don’t you worry.”
“Lack of toys is not what I’m worried about,” she muttered, quietly pleased that he’d let her get away with breaking her silence. She shook her head as he pulled her along behind him. She would never understand how he could be so sweet and still so purely Dom-like at the same damn time. But she had to admit it was working its magic on her. Big time.
Jamie flipped a switch on the wall and one section of the shop lit up. She’d been there before—she’d dropped by a number of times over the years, hoping to entice him—but never after hours. The place was so clean you could eat off the floor—everything shining chrome and the gorgeous mural on the back wall of vintage muscle cars: a Mustang, a GTO and a Corvette, all done in matte black against a background of gradually deepening shades of blue. The black-and-chrome tool chests were in neat rows against the walls, punctuated by wall-mounted counters. There were work bays with pits, some with different types of lifts—she thought that was what they were called, but her brain was cloudy—in sleek black and red. The place was really some car perv’s fantasy. She couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped her.
Jamie turned to her. “What are you finding so funny, sugar?” One brow was lifted, and there was both humor and menace in his tone, which she loved.
A shiver went through her. She was naked in Jamie’s auto shop and this was crazy! But she liked the crazy. “I just realized that cars are one of your fetishes.”
“You just now realized that?” he asked. “And I thought you knew me so well.”
“I thought I did, too,” she said, only then realizing there was an awful lot about this man she’d missed.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, his biceps flexing deliciously against her bare skin. “Now is when we really get to know each other, Summer Grace.”
All she could do was nod. Desire was a simmering fire in her body. Desire and a little titillating fear about what was going to happen. And as if he sensed her fear he bent and brushed his lips across hers, fanning the flames of need, sending a shock of pleasure deep into her system.
Oh yes. This is what I need.
She sank into him as he pulled her in closer, nibbling on her lips, licking them, then kissing her hard and deep, his tongue exploring. Taking. If she’d had any doubts about what they were doing he made them all melt away.
“You’re going to be just fine, sweetheart. I’ll take very good care of you,” he whispered against her flushed cheek. “I’m going to do some wonderful and terrible things to you. Is that what you want?”
She closed her eyes, breathed him in, let her tongue dart out to taste him on her lips.
“Exactly what I want. What I need. I’m just . . .”
“What is it? Tell me.”
Her throat went tight, but the words seemed to pour out of their own accord. “Have you ever had your heart’s desire right in front of you and suddenly you realize you hadn’t ever really imagined it could be more than just a dream? And then it’s right there and it seems like a dream. I can’t seem to get a hold of it. It’s like the whole world is wobbling. But yes, I want it, need it. Please, Jamie.”
He pressed his lips to her cheek, kissing it over and over. Then he said quietly, his voice a low rumble, “Yeah. I know exactly what you mean. We are on the same page, sweetheart, at this very moment. But this is what it means to turn it over. Just give it all up to me. You can do it. This is me, Summer Grace, and I will take care of everything.”
“Yes,” she agreed, knowing that was utterly true.
He kissed her cheek again. “Come on, sugar girl.”
He took her hand once more and led her across the quiet shop, their footsteps echoing on the cement floor. He stopped in front of an odd-looking contraption made of red-painted metal framework set on the floor that had some sort of crane or hoist attached to it. The black vertical arm had “Xtreme” painted down one side in big white letters, a row of large squared teeth like a spine up the back and a rod angled off the top. At the end of the rod hung a length of chain, ending in a large hook.
“Jamie . . . ?”
His grip on her hand tightened as he set the toy bag down on the floor. “I suppose you’re wondering what we’re doing here? That, I’m not going to tell you, but I will tell you what this little beauty is. It’s a portable Spider frame straightener—it’s what we use to straighten out the bent frame on a car that’s been in an accident. This baby can hold up to ten tons.” He dragged Summer close and brushed a kiss over her hair. “Now I need to go get a few things, and I want you to wait for me here. Can you do that?”
He pulled back to look at her, and she swallowed, nodded, her head spinning.
“Good girl,” he murmured before kissing her hand, then dropping it and stepping away.
© Eden Bradley, 2015
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author Eden Bradley aka Eve Berlin writes dark, edgy erotic fiction. Her work has been called ‘elegant, intelligent and sensual’. Her debut novel, THE DARK GARDEN, has been praised as ‘a masterpiece’, and was a Romantic Times Top Pick. Her novels and novellas have been translated into German, Romanian, French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Czech, Polish and Japanese. As someone who has been involved in BDSM practice for much of her adult life, she relates in particular to her kink stories, infusing them with her own truth about kink practice from her life experiences. Eden speaks regularly on BDSM psychology and practice, as well as sex positive culture for women.