She’s run from a dangerous man into the welcoming arms of two strong Texans. Justice will be served. Lives will change. Passion won’t be denied.
Having fled New York and an abusive relationship, Mia’s hiding out at Intimate Cravings, her private BDSM resort. The action’s scorching, her security guys beyond hot. Ex-military, Chance and Riley are everything she’s craved but figures she can’t have. When it comes to ménages, she’s a virgin, and they might not be interested.
One problem solved. However, she suspects her ex is stalking her.
Riley and Chance aren’t about to let anyone harm Mia, a smart and determined woman they intend to pleasure and protect. Her ex might be bold on Wall Street. In Texas, he won’t last a minute against them.
Bound by love, the threesome sets a trap that will bring Mia peace and lead them to sultry days and impassioned nights.
Tonight’s auction played out on the ballroom stage, the submissive properly naked and shackled, her gaze lowered. Spotlights stole whatever privacy she might have had. The hooded Dom wore his black leather well and stood to her side in the shadows. Some might say he exuded quiet authority. Many would insist he showed impending menace.
A smile tugged at the sub’s pouty mouth. She and the other guests understood this was only a carnal game meant to seduce, thrill, and delight.
Mia Strand made damn certain no one crossed any line during their stay. Intimate Cravings, her private club and resort, offered whatever a consenting adult would covet—BDSM, voyeurism, sexual fantasies, and more. Better yet, the ranch proved a short drive from Austin, a liberal enclave in an otherwise staid and uptight Texas.
Cowboys, cowgirls, bikers, and businesspeople mingled more easily here than they would in normal society. This evening, some guzzled beers. Others sipped fine wine or threw back tequila and various hard liquors. Numerous private rooms awaited those who preferred to play behind closed doors. The eighty-acre land boasted additional seductive pleasures outside.
The auction commenced. Patrons in office attire, Western finery, and biker wear shouted their bids, the men far more generous than the women.
Despite this evening’s revelry, Mia rolled her shoulders and tried to relax, to reason away her disquiet. Her decision to buy this ranch as her escape and hideout from New York had proved sound. Money flooded in faster than she would have expected. Most importantly, no one in her past would think to look for her in Texas of all places.
Everything was perfect.
Chance Thorpe and Riley Baker skirted the building crowd.
Mia’s stomach fluttered with outrageous longing. A reaction she couldn’t seem to stop since she’d hired them to run her security team.
Both men were in their early thirties, six-three or more, and a zillion percent male—the rugged outdoor kind, nothing citified or prissy. Snug black tees hugged their broad shoulders and sculpted abs, black jeans moulded to their powerful thighs. They strode with a panther’s grace and quietly accessed the surroundings.
As Patsy Cline’s Crazy poured from the sound system, Mia understood how poor Patsy felt. Love sucked when it died or got dangerous. She’d fled Kipp and their so-called relationship before things grew too scary. Hooking up with a guy wasn’t on her dance card any longer. Indulging in two lovers was downright insane, no matter their allure.
Chance’s tat peeked from beneath his left sleeve. The design sported bold and brutal swirls, totally masculine, same as his bruising biceps and shoulder-length black hair. He’d tied his mane back with a leather cord, like a modern-day pirate.
Her mouth went dry at the thought.
Riley’s dark stubble was a delightful contradiction to his thick blond hair, cut short on the sides and back but long enough on top to dangle over his forehead. Those locks begged for a woman to ease them back. Chance’s hair urged a female to set it free.
No way would she go there with either man. She squeezed her fists tight enough to hurt.
“Well, hey, we’ve been looking for you.” Avery ran up and threw her arms around Mia.
Isaac McCoy, Avery’s husband, smiled from behind.
Mia grinned in return and patted Avery’s ringlets, perfect for a fairy-tale princess or a preacher’s daughter, which Avery was. Even with her old-fashioned upbringing, she’d landed Isaac, also known as Badass in BDSM circles.
He shouted above the escalating noise. “Your place is looking good.”
“Thanks to you.” Mia had happened upon his bar Hardbodies, learned he was into the lifestyle, and brainstormed with him about what to offer at her resort. He’d proposed nightly events like the one going on now. Then he suggested she hire his buddies Chance and Riley to head security.
She didn’t argue with him on any point, especially about them.
Riley and Chance conferred with a stocky team member. He nodded to them, elbowed through the horde, and pulled a young guy from the stage staircase before he could get to the sub and her Dom.
“Hey.” The troublemaker flailed his arms. “Let go.”
Another team member snatched the guy’s longneck.
“Fuck you, that’s my beer. Give it back.” He grasped wildly for it. “Get your damn hands off’a me.”
The security guys pulled him toward the front entrance. Several women blew kisses or waved bye-bye to him. He fought like the Devil to get back to them, but couldn’t break the team’s hold.
Riley scanned the others here.
Chance turned and met Mia’s gaze.
Her heart pounded fiercely. Heat barreled through her.
Avery tapped her hand. “What’s everyone bidding on?”
Chance’s lushly lashed eyes seemed lighter in the shadowed room, his irises’ green tint a perfect complement to his olive complexion.
Unsteady, Mia locked her knees. “Huh?”
“The bids.” Avery leaned in. “What are they for?”
Voices rose above the music.
The Dom strode across the stage and displayed numerous straps in his beefy fists. Some leather proved thick yet supple, others thin and firm. Each meant to pink up a sub’s ass and deliver an initial sting followed by warmth and pleasure.
Mia didn’t doubt Chance would wield the belts with precision and expertise, exactly as he did everything else. Riley would perform as spectacularly.
She inhaled deeply to calm herself. Didn’t work. “Ah, they’re bidding on what the Dom will use for the sub’s discipline and how far it will go. One lick, two, three, whatever, and whether he’ll use a strap, paddle, flogger, or something else. Highest amount wins the punishment of his or her dreams, acted out on stage. Within reason, of course. No one ever gets hurt here.”
“I would hope not.” Avery pulled out her smartphone.