Wicked Christmas Eve

By

Eliza Gayle

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Wicked Christmas Eve

Copyright© 2011 Eliza Gayle

ISBN: 978-1-60088-728-4

Cover Artist: Sable Grey

Editor: Jana Hanson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

Cobblestone Press, LLC

www.cobblestone-press.com

Why in the hell had she thought coming back to this town would be a good idea? From the moment her car had passed the city limits sign, her world had gone to hell, starting with the speeding ticket she’d gotten from a hot cop who was not amused.

She’d spent the next eight hours with her extended family over Christmas Eve dinner until she’d been unable to take another second of the constant bickering and the not so subtle digs about the current shambles of her life. Between her mother firing one question after another and her sister’s snide remarks, Megan had ground her teeth to the point of pain. Another day of this bullshit, and she’d have to find a dentist. Or an exorcist.

A slight smile curved her lips. The image of a priest coming to the front door with his Bible and rosary nearly made her laugh out loud.

Megan glanced through the windshield at the near empty parking lot before turning her gaze to the front of her favorite hangout. The Open sign blinked neon red. The last time she’d walked through those doors had been her twenty-first birthday, almost ten years to the day.

Unfortunately, her plans to set the world on fire had fallen flat. She’d gotten her degree in political science only to be turned down by one law school after another. Six months later, she’d settled into a legal secretarial position and a routine that made the next several years go by in a blur. Then out of the blue, she’d been laid off. With only a few days until Christmas, Megan had thought a change of scenery was in order and had headed home to Florida. So maybe it was her head that needed examined after all.

Ready for a drink, she opened her car door and stepped out. It didn’t surprise her to find so few cars in the parking lot. Most people weren’t trying to escape on Christmas Eve.

Her shoes thudded quietly on the soft pavement until she reached the door. She did her best to ignore the strand of floss—otherwise known as a thong—riding between her ass checks. A heavy sigh formed in her chest. Why hadn’t she changed before she ran out? Because another second in that house would have killed her, that’s why.

Megan glanced around the parking lot again to make sure she was completely alone before she reached under her skirt and grabbed the edge of her panties. She yanked them down her legs and stepped out of them. It wasn’t as if anyone here would notice whether she wore anything under her boring gray skirt. She shoved the offending scrap to the bottom of her purse and straightened her clothes one final time. Much better.

One more minute and she’d be happily seated at the bar. Thirty minutes after that, she’d be halfway to smashed if she had any say about it. She’d worry about getting home later—much later.

She pushed the door open. Instead of the coat rack and stand filled with brochures and advertisements she’d expected, a large man sitting on a stool in the corner looked up from the book he was reading.

“Evening,” he said with barely a nod.

Taken aback by a bouncer, she hurried past him. The main room was dark, and she stopped to give her eyes a few seconds to adjust. On autopilot, she turned to the right and headed in the direction of the bar. There were only a few tables occupied, but a couple of people eyed her as she walked by. Thankfully there were no faces she recognized, so she didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a stool at the bar and dropped her purse in her lap.

“Can I get a tequila shot straight up?” she asked the bartender.

His eyebrows raised, which she promptly ignored. It was her Christmas Eve, and she’d damn well do as she pleased, even if that meant getting sloshed alone in a bar.

“On second thought, make that two.”

The man behind the bar grabbed two small glasses and filled them.

“We have a two drink maximum if you’re planning to play tonight.”

Her head shot up, and she met his gaze. “Play?” He picked up her glasses from the bar and used them to indicate behind her before he sat them in front of her. Megan scooped up one of her drinks and slowly turned the stool to investigate. The barroom was quite large with dark wood tables filling the space, but in the back corner, there were double doors propped open that led to a separate area. A private room rented out for parties if she remembered correctly. Although what her gaze rested on certainly lacked in privacy.

Megan’s eyes widened.

Just beyond the opening she spied a naked woman standing against a tall post with her arms tied over her head. Megan’s booted foot slipped from the ledge of the stool and landed on the floor with a thud. The tall blonde woman had a strikingly thin figure, willowy like a model with porcelain perfect skin except for the red streaks covering her ass.

While Megan struggled for a consistent thought on what she was witnessing, an imposing male figure blocked her view of the mystery woman with the lovely backside. Broad shoulders, a lean torso, and an awesomely tight ass encased in black pants filled the doorway. Curious to see more, Megan shifted on the seat to angle her body for the best view. The rear view alone caused a slight tingle in all her girly parts. Now she wanted him to turn around so she could see the face of her newly imagined sex god.

Instead her gaze was drawn to his hips where his hand held a flogger in a tight grip. A flash of heat tore through her,. Her sex moistened, and her nipples puckered at the thought of him raising his arm and using the flogger on the woman helpless in front of him.

Holy fuck.

Suddenly she felt like Alice in the rabbit hole. She was from a small, southern town. It wasn’t exactly a hotbed of sexual proclivities, but obviously that had changed. The bartender behind her cleared his throat, pulling her attention to the fact she was staring at something obviously not her business. She swiveled in her seat and brought the shot of alcohol to her lips. In one gulp, she downed the fiery liquid. She welcomed the burn in the hopes it would distract her from the wild thoughts now racing through her mind.

A sex club.

She’d never planned for a night like this but now… Well, her body grew hotter the more she thought about what might be going on in that room. What would it be like to let go of her inhibitions and spend a few hours just savoring the pleasures of sex with no strings attached?

Between her legs, her sex swelled, and moisture trickled to the tops of her thighs. Maybe removing her thong hadn’t been a great idea after all. A faint cracking sound interrupted her train of thought. Was that a whip? Her hands closed into fists. Her clothes grew too tight. Megan reached for her second glass of tequila and dragged it closer.

“Hey, Brian. Can I get a bottle of water?”

The dark, rough voice filtered through her head. Megan’s gaze followed the sound and looked up into the tanned strong face—

“Cyrus Jackson?” She blurted the name from her lips before she could stop them. Oh God.

His gaze jerked to hers, giving her a hard, assessing look before he scanned her from head to toe. Heat crawled up her skin the longer he stared. Embarrassed at her outburst, she broke eye contact and stared down at her glass.

“Do I know you?”

He didn’t recognize her.

Just like old times. Back in high school it had seemed most days he didn’t have a clue who she was. The fact she’d fallen madly in crush the first day she’d laid eyes on him hadn’t helped. It had taken an enormous amount of willpower not to follow him around like a lovesick puppy.

Not that time and difference seemed to change things much. He looked as delicious as ever, and thoughts of spending a wild night with him ran rampant through her mind.

“Sort of. I mean, not really,” she answered, despite the knot forming in her throat.

He pushed the chair out next to her and took a seat. “Well, now I’m intrigued. How do I sort of not really know you? You don’t look like someone I would have forgotten.”

Megan shifted her weight uncomfortably. Dark pants and a dark shirt clung to him like a second skin, emphasizing the muscles of his arms. Other than the sign of faint laugh lines around his gorgeous green eyes, he looked exactly as she remembered.

Except now his presence unnerved her in a brand-new way. She’d never once imagined him into the BDSM scene. Talk about surreal.

“We went to high school together,” she mumbled.

“Hmm…” His eyes narrowed, and she fought not to squirm while he searched for something to remember her by. If her ego hadn’t already taken a beating, she might have been offended. As it was, she didn’t care. A night of anonymity sounded like the perfect escape.

Cyrus leaned forward and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. Megan held her breath. The electric shock of his touch zinged straight to her core. He didn’t stop there. His finger traced a path from her ear to her lips, leaving her quaking on the insides.

“We couldn’t have known each other that well, beautiful. You don’t strike me as the easy-to-forget kind.” His voice lowered to a husky whisper, sending a whisper of heat straight to her bare sex.

Had it been so long since she’d been laid that something so simple turned her on? Obviously so. Fuck it. What did it matter? She’d had a crush on him in high school, so he wasn’t exactly a stranger. One night of something good sounded like a damn fine idea.

It wasn’t just the man that pulled at her, though. The faint report of the whip cracking in the background continued to beat at her senses. The sound drove her with a need to squirm and press her thighs together. Instead of responding to his comment, she dipped her head. Whatever kinky sex games they played, she wanted in.

He tucked his fingers under her chin and lifted her head. “Look at me,” he demanded.

Megan shivered. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to his and held her breath. She wanted him to see what she didn’t quite have the courage to voice.

An easy smile spread across his face. “You want to play, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“You think you can handle what’s going on back there?”

She swallowed thickly. “I can. Whatever you want.”

His nostrils flared, and his eyes widened. “Be careful what you wish for around here. People tend to take those kind of statements literally.” His hand trailed down her neck and sides before it rested on her thigh. Lust scorched through her, leaving her wetter than before.

“I am serious.”

He studied her for what seemed an eternity before he finally spoke. “Do you have any experience with a place like this? This isn’t exactly beginner’s night.”

“A little, but I’m a quick learner with an open mind.” Her voice shook. She didn’t want to get into the explanation of that one wild year in college.

Immediately the energy between them changed. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth pursed. “Submissives aren’t allowed to wear clothes in there. At least not tonight.”

Megan bit at her lip. Was he saying yes? “I understand.”

A deep chuckle sounded from his chest. “Hmm. We’ll see about that.” He took the empty glass out of her hand and placed it on the bar. Without taking his gaze from hers he spoke to the bartender. “How many of these has she had?”

“Within limits.”

“Good.” He bent down, nuzzled her face to the side and bit her lower lip. “Stand up and take off your skirt.”

The unexpected demand threw Megan for a loop. For a second, her common sense kicked in, urging her to run. Not that she listened. Instead, she slid from her stool and straightened. She unfastened the waistband and lowered the zipper. With little fanfare, she slid the skirt down her legs and stepped out. Cool air brushed across her naked backside and between the V of her thighs. Of all the nights she’d decided to take off her thong.

“Very pretty. And wet, I’ll bet.”

She nodded briefly, a bit mortified by her easy reactions. To her surprise, the bartender leaned forward and rested his head on his hands—obviously watching the show.

“Take off the rest.”

Both men watched her as she removed her red sweater and bra. She trembled in front of them, which had little to do with the temperature in the room and everything to do with what she’d just done. She bent to remove her boots.

A hard hand curved around her neck and pulled her upright. “Leave the boots.”

The rough voice and pressure of his touch sent a shiver down her spine. A wisp of fear mixed with a flash of arousal that took her breath away. He stepped closer and smoothed his hand down her side. Her muscles shook as he made his way around her hip to the aching folds between her legs. Cyrus slipped his finger into her slick heat, pushing his way to her entrance, making her gasp.

From the corner of her eyes, she caught the enrapt expression on the bartender’s face before Cyrus pushed two fingers inside.

“Eyes on me,” Cyrus demanded.

Her gaze jerked to his. The color of his eyes had darkened to a deep, mesmerizing green. The intensity of his stare both frightened and excited her while his fingers stroked in and out of her sex until she was panting. Her stomach muscles tightened as an orgasm began to build. Any second now her body would explode in front of anyone who desired to watch and she no longer cared.

He swiped his thumb across her sensitive clit, leaving her gasping for release. Before she could reach the pinnacle, he withdrew his fingers and brought them to her mouth.

“Open.”

She didn’t think twice before she complied. He slid them inside and watched her clean his fingers with her tongue.

“Mmm. Maybe you’re a dirty girl after all.”

“Cyrus, you should take her inside the playroom before you get busted for breaking the rules.”

The disappointment she’d felt at his withdrawal dissipated in a sudden cloud of embarrassment. Heat raced up her neck and flooded her face.

Cyrus nodded and steered her toward the doorway that led to the back room and her stomach fluttered with nerves. “What about my—”

“Don’t worry. It's taken care of.”

She looked back to see the bartender had gathered her belongings and was placing them in a row of cubbies behind the bar.

“Maybe we should go over a few things. Do you have any hard limits?”

She racked her brain trying to think of something to say. All she had to go on was quasi experience, what she’d read in books, and what little she’d seen since her arrival.

“I don’t think I’d like that whip.” She pointed at the woman still bound to the whipping post with her ass covered in an elaborate design of stripes and welts.

Cyrus smiled. “No worries. The whip is not my implement of choice. I prefer something a little more up close and personal.” He winked. “Anything else?”

“I’m not sure.”

He nodded. “Let’s stick with a safe word, then. If I do something you really don’t like, you can say your word and we’ll stop and discuss what’s going on. Does that work?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He reached forward and pinched her nipples between his fingers. “You, pet, should have said yes, Sir.”

The sharp pressure at her sensitive tips increased ten-fold. Pain sizzled from her breasts to her clit.

“For tonight your safe word is Santa.”

Megan bit her lips to not laugh. No way in hell did she want to yell out ”Santa” when Cyrus was fucking her. “Okay—I mean, yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and led the way inside the backroom. Even with Cyrus blocking part of her view, it was hard not to stare at the woman who moaned and begged for more each time the Dom struck her.

When she lifted her head and glanced around the room, her mouth dropped open. Every inch of the room had been festively decorated for Christmas amid all the dungeon gear. There was a pretty little submissive tied to a St. Andrew's Cross with colorful Christmas lights, a male sub on his hands and knees wearing reindeer ears in a cage shaped like an animal, and a mistress in the naughtiest toy soldier costume she’d ever seen.

“You’re staring.” Cyrus had shifted, placing his mouth right at her ear.

“I-I’m sorry. It’s just so—”

“I call it festive,” he finished for her.

Over the top. Maybe even crazy. Megan kept her thoughts to herself. She didn’t want to acknowledge the fact her pussy burned hotter the more she saw.

Fortunately for her, he led her to a small bench. “On your knees, pet.”

Curious as to what he was up to, Megan complied and dropped to the floor in front of him. At this angle she found herself face-to-face with his leather-covered crotch. With an unmistakable bulge straining against the fabric, her mouth watered, and she found herself dying to touch him. What would he taste like?

Cyrus picked up a red sack from the floor. She watched him withdraw a handful of condoms and long strips of red silk.

“Open my pants and pull out my cock.” The tone of Cyrus’ voice deepened, brushing against her with dark desire.

She pulled at the button of his pants, hoping he wouldn’t notice her shaking hands. After a brief pause to calm her racing heartbeat, Megan wrapped her hand around the thick, hard stalk of his penis and pulled him free. Immediately her gaze was drawn to the bulging crown. A small bead of pre-cum had formed on the tip. Without thought, she leaned forward and licked away the moisture.

“Whoa. Not so fast. Here, put this on me.” He handed her a condom in a bright green festive wrap. “Do you have any allergies?”

Megan shook her head while she ripped into the small foil package. She was so damned eager for his cock she pushed the latex along the length of his rigid flesh.

“Hands behind your back, beautiful.” He walked behind her and out of sight.

With her muscles quivering, Megan did as he asked and crossed her wrists at the small of her back. The cool touch of the silk ties he carried caused her to jump. She held her breath while Cyrus wrapped the restraints around her wrist several times before he tied them off.

Cyrus fisted her hair and walked around her. The edge of pain did nothing to dissuade the pressure building inside her. She leaned forward and captured the tip of Cryus’ erection between her lips and sucked hard, the taste of peppermint exploding across her tongue.

“You should have waited my instructions, pet. Now I’ll have to punish you. But first, I’m dying to see what you look like with your lips wrapped around my dick.” He pulled her hair and forced his cock deep into her mouth. Her gag reflex kicked in, and Cyrus withdrew to the tip. She breathed through her nose, and he pushed his way inside once again.

Megan licked and sucked to the best of her ability. She glanced up through her lashes and froze at the tight lust evident on Cyrus’s face. Sweat beaded across his brow, and strain lines showed around his eyes and mouth. Deep satisfaction swelled inside her. He had her hands tied behind her back, his hand holding her head still for his driving cock, and it was her who affected him. Not that she was unaffected. Her insides trembled, and her pussy ached for him to fill it.

She whimpered, the sound startling her. They both froze. His cock swelled, giving her the impression he was about to come. Instead his hand fisted tighter, pulling her hair until her eyes watered. She sensed he teetered on the edge of control, and she had the crazy desire to push him over. Her tongue darted forward and licked the underside from root to tip.

“That’s enough.” He slid from her mouth.

Megan stared at him through her lashes and licked her lips. She had a feeling she’d remember what he tasted like for a very long time to come. From now on, the taste of peppermint would forever remind her of Cyrus Jackson.

“You taste like a candy cane, and I’ve always loved them.”

“That’s good to know.” He bent over the small red sack and pulled another item from his secret stash.

Something long and clear with red stripes. Megan’s eyes widened when she realized he held a candy cane dildo. She shivered at the thought of him using it on her.

He tugged at her hair and motioned for her to stand. With as much grace as possible she got to her feet.

“Bend over here.” He pointed to the rounded bench covered in red padded leather with a small platform to rest her knees on.

A sliver of fear, slow and insidious, worked its way through her as she considered his request. For a fleeting second, she wondered how the night had spiraled out of control. Then again, this was her fantasy, and she deserved it.

Megan climbed onto the bench and tried to rearrange herself into a comfortable position.

“Good girl. Now hold this. And don’t drop it. I’d be very unhappy if my new toy got broken.” Cyrus placed something cool and smooth in her hands. “I’ve got a few more surprises in my bag.” Cyrus leaned across her back, distracting her from all her stupid thoughts about fear and what she should or shouldn’t be doing. The thick ridge of his cock reminded her that all of her fantasies were about to come true.

Megan squirmed underneath him in the hopes he’d do something soon. Anything. God, her body ached to be fucked.

When the anticipation was about to kill her, he began to nibble his way from her neck to her ass, alternating between sharp bites and sensual kisses that drove her mad. He stood, leaving her uncovered and desperately needy. Megan bit back a whimper at the loss. Before she had a chance to question what came next, a hard, rough texture circled her right ass check and then her left.

What the hell?

She swung her head to the side to see a small red ping-pong paddle in his hand. Startled, she lifted from the bench only to find his hand at the small of her back pushing down.

“Stay still, my little pet. If you can’t continue, use your safe word. Otherwise don’t move.”

With the paddle stroking her right side, Cyrus used his talented fingers to trace her seam from asshole to clit.

“Judging by how wet you are, I’d say you are enjoying this.”

Megan dropped her head and tried not to pant. The need to have him inside her grew exponentially with every second he touched her. He wanted her to be still while her mind screamed to wiggle, shift, or press back to find some satisfaction. This teasing would drive her insane. His finger slid between slick lips, and Megan bit down on her lip. “Such a good girl.”

With each stroke, he pressed against a new bundle of nerves, sending tiny flares of electrified pleasure racing up her spine. Against her will, a low groan escaped her, and she pushed back to send his finger deeper inside.

A sharp pop of his paddle against her right backside shocked Megan into awareness. Pain radiated across the small spot, leaving her breathless and dazed.

“I did warn you to be still.” Cyrus slid his finger free, and before she could protest, another smack, harder this time, landed squarely across her crease.

Sharp pain erupted across her ass, arrowing straight to her pussy. She squirmed and writhed as the blows landed one after the other. Soft, strangled moans fell from her mouth as the tension of an orgasm built behind her clit.

“Your ass blushes the sweetest shade of red. It makes me want to keep going.”

She whimpered, her head shaking frantically.

“Good, little pet.” His hand smoothed across her heated skin again, eliciting a long low moan she didn’t even try to hold in that time. Cyrus grabbed the toy from her hands and hauled her up. “Are you ready to get fucked?”

“Oh yes. Please.” He’d made her so aroused she felt the trickle of her juices at the top of her thighs.

“Say it, then. Tell me and everyone else in this room how much you want to be fucked.”

The harsh demand rolled through her. God she loved to hear him talk like that. It outdid every single fantasy she’d ever had. “Please, Cyrus. Please fuck me.”

“Good girl,” he praised. “Stay still.”

He moved away, and she cried out, the loss of his body heat too much to bear. With her ass burning and her head spinning in a combination of vulnerability and arousal, she wanted to melt into the firm bench.

Then he was back, and something cold and wet touched her anus.

“I’m going to fuck you in the ass now, little sub. If you have a problem with that, you know what to do.”

Megan’s stomach muscles jerked. She enjoyed anal play, but it had been a very long time.

While she was considering how to proceed, Cyrus pressed his lubricated fingers to the tiny hole, stretching her to the point of a dull burn. Megan gasped for air.

“Don’t tense up,” he warned. “Push into it.”

She tried to relax, but the sensations rushing through her overwhelmed everything else. The intensity between fantasy and reality went beyond the fear and straight into ecstasy. What had started out as a game now threatened to go deeper.

The touch of lips across one flaming cheek nearly sent Megan over the edge. While he was preparing her passage for his cock, she was literally burning from the inside out. The tension coiled in her abdomen went taut. Each easy slide of his fingers in and out of her brought an orgasm closer than she thought possible. Her body tensed; sweat broke out across her skin.

“Oh…I’m going to…”

“No. Not yet.” In a blink, he’d removed his fingers and fitted the head of his cock at her opening. “Make it wait, Megan.”

Black spots wavered in front of her eyes as she tried to focus on something other than the need to come, but the sensation of the wide head of his dick pressing against her blew her mind.

“You haven’t forgotten about my candy, have you?”

Megan crinkled her forehead. Her eyes went wide with shock as a cool, solid length slid into her pussy. She’d forgotten all about the dildo.

Before she’d fully adjusted to what was happening, Cyrus pushed into her ass. In a combination of tenderness and ruthless invasion he took her in one powerful stroke. His ruthless invasion stretched her to the point of pain, leaving her gasping for air. Oh God, it was too much.

Her safe word hovered at the edge of consciousness as she considered using it. Then the toy in her pussy moved. The hook of the candy cane rubbed across her elusive G-spot as the stalk of the dildo pressed against her clit. A scream tore from her throat, and pleasure consumed her as she came.

“Fuck,” Cyrus snarled behind her. He began to thrust hard and deep into her. So hard the sturdy bench rattled underneath her.

This kind of possession unarmed her. Her body protested at first, the pain reaching a level she’d never experienced before.

Cyrus growled behind her, “You are only supposed to come when I tell you it’s okay.” As if to punctuate his words, the toy slipped from her still clenching pussy and dropped to the floor with a thud. And still he moved faster, taking her with a commanding force she instantly fell in love with. He braced his hands on her hips for more leverage, and despite the brutal intensity, another orgasm began to creep up on her.

He shoved in deep and halted behind her. “Do you understand me?”

Megan shook her head and tried to clear the fog. “Yes, Cyrus. Please. You’re going to make me come again.”

He must have liked that idea as he thrust with more fervor than before. Megan whimpered and gritted her teeth against the onslaught. She couldn’t hold back on her own much longer.

Cyrus must have sensed everything she felt. He swore behind her. “Come again then, girl. Now.”

The barked order sent her violently over the edge. Hard shudders shook her body as he too came, jerking inside her. His fingers at her hips dug in with brutal force as both their climaxes seemed to go on forever.

By the time she stopped coming, her body had gone limp with exhaustion. She vaguely heard murmurs around her that sounded in awe of the show she and Cyrus had managed to put on. The normal heat of embarrassment did not make its way through the darkness washing over her. Black spots hovered in her vision until she closed her eyes and succumbed.

Sometime later she opened her eyes and realized that Cyrus had untied her and was now massaging her wrists and arms. When he realized she was awake, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to a nearby couch. He sank down into the plush cushions and cradled her on his lap.

“That was quite incredible, Megan Walker. I didn’t think you had it in you.

“How long was I—” She struggled to sit but Cyrus merely pushed her back down.

“You need more rest.”

“Wait. You said my last name. You know who I am.”

“Of course I know who you are. Believe it or not, I don’t fuck strangers.”

Embarrassment heated her neck and face. Oh. Dear. God. What had she done?

“Relax, my pet. Your secret is safe with me. I’m not about to tell anyone about your secret sex life.”

Megan turned her head into his chest and hid her face. She couldn’t even do an anonymous one-night stand right.

“On one condition,” he continued.

She jerked in his arms. “What? You’re going to blackmail me?” A hot flood of anger cleared away the last of the euphoria that had clouded her judgment.

“What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?”

Her head shot up and locked gazes with his. A not-so-subtle smile played across his lips. The air whooshed from her lungs.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me. We didn’t even get to these yet.” He held up a pair of nipple clamps with tiny bells on the end.

Her mind reeled with the implications. He didn’t want to reveal her secrets; he wanted to spend more time with her. Megan thought about it for two seconds more before she lowered her gaze and dipped her head.

“Your wish is my command, Master.”

The End

Author Bio

Eliza Gayle lives a life full of sexy shapeshifters, blood boiling vamps and a dark desire for bondage…until she steps away from her computer and has to tend to her family.

She graduated Magna Cum Laude (which her husband translated into something very naughty) from college with a dual degree in Human Resource Management and Sociology. That education, a love of the metaphysical, and a dirty mind comes in handy when she sits down to create new characters and worlds. The trick is getting her to sit still.

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