'Maggie's Menage' by Lacey Thorn
"You want me to play the whore for you? For the good of the company?"
"Watch your mouth Margaret Rose. Twenty-five is not too old for a spanking young lady."
She turned to look her father in the eye, saw the rising colour on his face and couldn't resist. "Oh. You think that will make the men you have waiting hot for me. Show them a little kink to get them revved up?"
"Damn it Margaret. That is enough." That vein was really throbbing in his head now. And the colour was slowly going from red to purple.
"Does the business mean that much to you, Daddy? More than me?" She already knew the answer but some inner demon forced the question out of her mouth.
"I've spent my whole life building this company and I"ll be damned if it dies out after I'm gone. The name Houston will count for something long after I'm gone."
That demon was still there whispering in her ear. "I could run it. I know the ins and outs of the business. I thought you were grooming me for just that."
He laughed. Her father threw his head back and laughed and that last bit of the needy girl searching for the crumbs of her father's love disappeared. In her place was a woman he would regret creating.
"Like I would ever leave my baby to a woman. Your mother proved to be one failure after another. Only one child and even that was second rate. The damn woman couldn't even stay healthy. It was a blessing when she died."
Yeah, it probably was. For her mother. But for the four year old girl left behind it had been hell. She had always known that her father only let her work for him because he didn't know what else to do with her. But that tiny spot had remained, unwilling to give up hope that she was wrong.
There was a knock at the door and her father Dom Alexander Houston turned from her. Dismissing her without a second thought. And the anger began to grow inside her.
"The gentlemen that you've been expecting are here Mr Houston." Her father's personal assistant said from the doorway. The woman was young, blonde and built. And most certainly sleeping with the boss. Maggie felt sorry for her. She wouldn't last any longer than the rest and when her father was done that was it. The poor girl didn't have a chance.
"Send them in."
Maggie stayed her ground refusing to leave without him coming right out and telling her to. If he forgot she was still here long enough then she would stay.
Appearances meant everything to him and he would do nothing to seem more than a doting father.
Two men stepped into the room. Both were tall with dark hair. One was maybe six feet even with broad shoulders and a stocky build. His body rippled with muscles beneath the suit that was obviously tailored just for him. His hair was clean cut, almost military short. What there was of it was a dark brown, almost a mocha shade.
His eyes when he glanced her way were a dark chocolate brown with what looked like flecks of gold in them but she would have to get a closer look to be sure.
The other one was taller, maybe six-foot-two or so with a much slimmer build. His clothes were just as tapered but revealed longer, leaner muscles. His hair was longer touching the top of his collar in back and dark as night. His eyes were a startling shade of blue that made one think of a perfect sky.
Testosterone oozed from them and filled the room. A shiver went down Maggie's spine and she wondered which one her father wanted her to marry. She had to think that they must want it as much as the old man did or they wouldn't be here. Neither seemed like the type that would be easily manipulated. No, these were definitely alpha males. What she was planning for them might be more fun than she anticipated. But best of all it would destroy her father's plans to marry her off to the man of his choice. She couldn't contain the grin of triumph that tugged at her lips. Let the fun begin.
'Boy Toys' by Brynn Paulin
Dana Matthews stared out of the car window at the passing English countryside and tried to tamp down her resentment over this assignment. Okay, perhaps it wasn't resentment. It was more frustration than anything else.
Since her research scientist position in the United States had been eliminated, she'd been dancing on a taut wire—taking the same job within a different branch of the company, transferring to a new country, leaving behind her husband. Ex-husband now, she reminded herself. He'd been set to join her until she'd discovered a few months abstinence had been too much for him. He'd screwed their next door neighbour, Miss skeezy pants-Miss I'm-twenty-two-and-you're-not skeezy pants-and tried to claim it was a mid-life crisis.
"You okay, Dana?"
Dana glanced over at the brown-haired man beside her and nodded. Jason Kerzi and the other passenger of the car, Christopher Brown, were part of her problem. Also research scientists, but working different projects, the two were headed to London to meet with the Powers-That-Be and explain the findings on their latest work—something about frog DNA and a cancer gene. She hadn't worked on their experiments so other than witnessing excited whispers from the other side of the lab while they ran computer models, she didn't pretend to know what they'd discovered.
Their work had little bearing on her own experiments. Which made her question her presence on this trip.
There was no doubt in her mind, she'd been sent to chaperone the dynamic duo while they met with the big wigs who were flying over from the Former British Territories AKA the United States. It galled her. Why should she play mother-hen to the boys? Thirty-seven wasn't old, damn it. Certainly not eighty. Surely the twenty-somethings could keep themselves in line for a few days.
This assignment put her last frayed nerve on edge. Not because the meeting would suck up her weekend. Not even because she had to chaperone. She took a deep breath and inhaled the intoxicating scents of her companions' colognes.
Her tension stemmed from the fact that she found both men unsettlingly attractive. Attractive? That was an understatement. She wanted them both with a lust befitting a nubile co-ed. And she'd done her best to hide it for the last eight months. That didn't stop her from alternately fantasising about one or the other of them in her bed each night.
She sighed, hoping neither of them caught her mooning over them this weekend. How embarrassing would that be? Hopefully, they'd get to their hotel and she could closet herself in her room until morning. After several hours closed in this car with them, she could use a break from their magnetism.
'Best Mates' by Ashley Ladd
Jennica Chapman felt so low she didn't think she could sink any further. Hurt and angry, she ripped up all the pictures she had of her ex, Thad, threw them in the sink and lit a match to them. As she watched the flames devour Thad's handsome but sleazy face, she gritted out between her teeth, "Up in flames with you. Kev and Alec had you pegged. Why didn't I listen?"
Afraid the smoke was getting too thick and would set off the fire alarm, she turned on the tap and doused the flames. Catching her blurry reflection in the tap's chrome, she stared at her distorted reflection. "Because you're a blithering idiot. Because you wanted a baby so badly, you would've settled for the wanker."
Mad at herself for letting the last two years tick away as her eggs grew stale, she scoured the sink and threw Thad's ashes into the rubbish.
Unfortunately that didn't make her feel much better. Neither did cranking up her music, soaking in the tub, or digging into a quart of Ben and Jerry's.
Her door shook with a sudden pounding and she rolled her eyes. Not in the mood to fend off a door-to-door salesman, and in particular hoping never to lay eyes on Thad again, she ignored it.
The hammering increased and Alec called out, "I'm not going away. I know you're in there, Chapman."
A rush of affection for her best chum washed out some of her raging anger. She raced for the door and flung it wide. Ecstatic to see friendly faces, she threw herself first into Alec's arms and then Kevin's.
She didn't know which was more handsome. They were both heartthrobs. Alec was the ultimate bad boy rocker with unruly hair that grazed his shoulders and a perpetual roguish smile that would melt her heart if he were straight—sometimes it did anyway. Bohemian, he always wore ragged jeans, a shirt that lay half-unbuttoned exposing a matt of very sexy chest hair, and gold earrings. Also like usual, he wore a sexy five o'clock shadow on his lean cheeks. She thought it the sexiest thing on earth. Well, maybe the second sexiest. She had a hard time suppressing a naughty grin and keeping her gaze from drifting south to the sexiest thing between his legs.
Kevin on the other hand was the clean-cut, London book editor who always wore preppy clothes. His blond good looks and clear blue eyes had broken more than a few hearts, male and female. He kept his hair tapered short and well-groomed. Often she wondered how the two had hooked up, but she'd shrugged it off as opposites attracting.
'The Wager' by Dakota Rebel
I ran into Maxiel, our local vampire pub, at eight-fifteen p.m. I was late, as usual, but he would be expecting that. I had never yet been on time for this weekly date. He might even worry if I got there on time or, heaven forbid, early.
I scanned the few occupied tables and found Will in the corner already nursing a beer. And even from across the room I could tell the waitress was flirting with him. But I couldn't blame her. I'd been with Will for twenty years, and I still flirted with him every chance I got.
He looked up, saw me watching him and flashed me a grin. I did a little finger wave and started towards him. The waitress disappeared quickly, which also didn't surprise me. I'm not known as an understanding girlfriend. And I like it that way. It keeps the skanks away.
Not that I ever really worry Will would stray. I believe I keep him plenty happy.
"Hey, Sadie." He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me deeply. I ran my fingers through his hair and kissed him back just as hard. The feel of his skin against mine never failed to send little shocks through my body. I could spend eternity with him and he would still make me shiver in anticipation of what was coming. Because with Will, something was always coming. Luckily it was usually me.
I heard a loud thunk and turned to see the waitress had brought the beer Will had ordered for me. Foam ran down the side of the bottle from the force with which she'd slammed it on the table. I hissed at her through my fangs. She rolled her eyes then walked away.
"Bitch," I muttered. "Why don't you come back here and fucking try me, you American twat?"
"Shh. She's not worth it. Besides, she'll probably be gone by the end of the week anyway. Just let it go." He nuzzled my neck, his fangs just barely scraping the skin.
I smiled. He was probably right. Most of the waitresses who had problems with me disappeared before too long. We were very good customers at this pub and the owner liked to keep us happy. And what made me happy was being able to spend time in public with Will without having to worry about waitresses making unwanted passes at him.
'Four Play' by Desiree Holt
Holly Martin climbed out of the big four wheel drive vehicle, looked around her and let out a long breath. A heavy breeze lifted strands of her auburn hair and whipped them across her creamy cheeks. She pulled her jacket a little tighter around her small frame and looked at the man who'd arrived with her.
"Oh, Michael. It's beautiful." She stretched out her arms and turned in a circle. "Just absolutely beautiful. It reminds me of my grandparents' place in Maine."
And so it did. This cottage just outside of Glendale, in the Isle of Skye, looked as if it had been set down in paradise. Made of stone and wood, it perched on a windswept bluff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Surrounding it were acres of natural grounds. Michael had told her it was a wildlife habitat, and this was the only house that would ever be built here. It made a perfect, private setting for the outrageous sexual adventures in which Duncan McLaughlin and his friends engaged in on a regular basis.
Holly had been looking forward to this visit ever since Michael had approached her about it. She'd met Duncan McLaughlin when he'd come to Denver on a business trip and stayed with the two of them. By then ménage with closely selected friends had become a regular occurrence, something she'd grown into and not only felt comfortable with but thoroughly enjoyed. The memory of the week the three of them had spent together sent shivers through her.
The thought of another week alone with both men spent entirely in sexual activities had given rise to many nights of erotic dreams. All through the long plane trip, the connecting flight and the drive, her body had tingled with anticipation, knowing what she was stepping into.
She and Michael had been together for four years. Tuning in to her natural submissive desire on their first date, he'd brought her along carefully to the type of D/s relationship he liked, introducing her to things she'd never thought she'd dare to try. By the time she'd experienced her first ménage, she'd been willing to try anything as long as it gave him pleasure, knowing that she was the one who controlled that pleasure. It was both freeing and empowering.
'Monsoon Fever' by Lisabet Sarai
Priscilla had been crazy for Jon when they met. She couldn't get enough of him. She'd been a virgin when they wed, but before long she was as randy and ready as any woman of the street, or so he claimed. Back in those days her sexual audacity had excited him. Memories of their early adventures made her cheeks burn and her thighs dampen.
Somehow, though, his early ardour had cooled. It could have been the increasing weight of his business concerns, or the terrible hardships of the war years. It might have been due to the fact that, despite frequent and vigorous efforts, she could not seem to conceive. They both wanted children. In the beginning, the notion that they were creating a child together added a special thrill to their lovemaking. As the years went by without her becoming pregnant, they stopped talking about children. Silently, each of them oscillated between guilt and blame. When they made love, the unspoken recriminations made it more and more difficult for them to connect.
If only they could try again—but Jon hardly touched her now. She could easily remember the last time, on the steamer a few days out of Portsmouth, when she had been seasick and Jon was trying to comfort her. She hadn't been in much of a condition to enjoy herself, but still his attentions had been welcome.
Nearly two months ago! Priscilla was frustrated beyond belief. Being here in India made it worse. Assam was much cooler than Delhi or Calcutta, but inevitably, in this climate, they wore fewer clothes. The native food, with its spices and chillies, tended to stir the blood. And the native people were far less circumspect than the English about their bodily functions.
Once, walking past the village on an errand, she had come across a man and woman coupling in the shade of a huge bo tree. Hidden behind a brake of bamboo, embarrassed but unable to look away, Priscilla had watched their mating. The man pulled the woman's sari aside and bared her lower half. She spread her thighs wide, wrapping her legs around his waist as he drove his organ into her sex. He shrugged off his simple cotton garment as he churned on top of her, each thrust eliciting a deep moan of pleasure from his partner.
Priscilla could see sweat glistening on his mahogany skin. She was close enough that she could smell them, sweat and musk, garlic and palm oil. Gold bangles gleamed on the woman's ankles, which were hooked around the man's hips. She rocked back and forth seeking her pleasure. The man finally growled and ground his pelvis savagely into the woman's depths. She answered with a keening cry that certainly must have been audible in the village a hundred yards away.