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Authors: Abby-Rae Rose
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sneaking glances under her dark lashes. He was primed and ready to explode. If that cute tush bent over one more time, he might have to grab hold of her and take her right there. Maxwell’s call on Sunday had made him restless.
Sure he’d had some trepidation, but with a green light, he had taken on the challenge and found himself enjoying it. And while he may still have his worries, those glances she’d been giving him all day were telling him she was hot and bothered herself. The two of them could take her there—make her see just what she was longing for that she couldn’t put a name on; but something was going on with Maxwell. Usually the slightest bit of dominance in a woman was a deal breaker. Not with Elle, that just excited Maxwell more.
Yeah, something told him that given the right incentive, Maxwell would claim Elle as his property—and not just to train her and hand her off. Once Maxwell possessed her, Darren knew no one was touching this woman until Maxwell gave the command. Right now, Maxwell demanded she be thoroughly debauched.
Maxwell never judged him; Darren knew Maxwell must have known something of his past. You weren’t a masochistic dominant slut by chance. No, Darren had a good reason for his promiscuity. Often he wondered why he even chose to keep living—his mother had ruined any chance he had of happiness; those days were over.
Now, what to do with this delicious creature that was Elle? Seduction was the name of the game whether Maxwell was here or not.
Darren dragged a box across the table and began sorting the folders even as Luke made an appearance with one last box. Darren’s tenuous grip on his libido wavered even more as the man flashed his ass in a swivel of hips that was an unmistakable sign of a man who liked sex a certain way. The man was a menace, those soft blue eyes and puppy dog looks had Darren groaning and achy. He’d noticed him last week and at the disastrous dinner on Friday. Immediately, he’d recognized all the signs, submissive perfection all the way down to his crisp ironed pants and shirt.
“Until recently, he had been Zackary’s slave—everyone at the Den had known that—but Dreams of Luke beside him in bed, waking up to night sweats. Darren couldn’t help but dig a little deeper. Until now Luke had always kept his face hidden behind a half mask at The Den. He had a tendency to keep away from the crowds, and was usually only a beck and call from Zackary. Darren finally found out this was Luke playing with fire.
A year ago, Darren had given up on having Luke when Zackary had claimed him. But Friday night, he’d watched the man. Quiet, efficient—no wonder Zackary kept him as his personal assistant.
Before Elle returned, Luke shoved his box next to Darren’s and leaned over, sending a waft of Polo his way. “Stop staring like a dog in heat, man. Elle won’t drop her hose for just anyone.”
“Really?” Darren asked surprised by the authoritative tone of this submissive.
“Looking at her won’t get you in her pants.” Luke began organizing the boxes according to dates, ignoring Darren. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
Darren wondered what it would take to get Luke’s pants down, but held his tongue as Elle returned with the last of the boxes.
One look around the bulging, stacked boxes littering the floor and tables had her smiling, the wicked dimples he’d only glimpsed up to then taking full form. “I’ve got to run down to the floor, there’s an issue with a UPS shipment. I’ll be back in a bit to find out if you’ll need anything else pulled from storage.”
Darren sucked in his breath at those dimples. Oh, sweet mother of God, no wonder Maxwell was head over heels. For Darren, they pushed him right over the edge; they were so innocent and sweet. Elle turned before he could say anything too stupid and walked out.
Darren groaned, “Oh God.”
“Yeah, that smile’s a killer,” Luke said, never looking up from
Sure he’d had some trepidation, but with a green light, he had taken on the challenge and found himself enjoying it. And while he may still have his worries, those glances she’d been giving him all day were telling him she was hot and bothered herself. The two of them could take her there—make her see just what she was longing for that she couldn’t put a name on; but something was going on with Maxwell. Usually the slightest bit of dominance in a woman was a deal breaker. Not with Elle, that just excited Maxwell more.
Yeah, something told him that given the right incentive, Maxwell would claim Elle as his property—and not just to train her and hand her off. Once Maxwell possessed her, Darren knew no one was touching this woman until Maxwell gave the command. Right now, Maxwell demanded she be thoroughly debauched.
Maxwell never judged him; Darren knew Maxwell must have known something of his past. You weren’t a masochistic dominant slut by chance. No, Darren had a good reason for his promiscuity. Often he wondered why he even chose to keep living—his mother had ruined any chance he had of happiness; those days were over.
Now, what to do with this delicious creature that was Elle? Seduction was the name of the game whether Maxwell was here or not.
Darren dragged a box across the table and began sorting the folders even as Luke made an appearance with one last box. Darren’s tenuous grip on his libido wavered even more as the man flashed his ass in a swivel of hips that was an unmistakable sign of a man who liked sex a certain way. The man was a menace, those soft blue eyes and puppy dog looks had Darren groaning and achy. He’d noticed him last week and at the disastrous dinner on Friday. Immediately, he’d recognized all the signs, submissive perfection all the way down to his crisp ironed pants and shirt.
“Until recently, he had been Zackary’s slave—everyone at the Den had known that—but Dreams of Luke beside him in bed, waking up to night sweats. Darren couldn’t help but dig a little deeper. Until now Luke had always kept his face hidden behind a half mask at The Den. He had a tendency to keep away from the crowds, and was usually only a beck and call from Zackary. Darren finally found out this was Luke playing with fire.
A year ago, Darren had given up on having Luke when Zackary had claimed him. But Friday night, he’d watched the man. Quiet, efficient—no wonder Zackary kept him as his personal assistant.
Before Elle returned, Luke shoved his box next to Darren’s and leaned over, sending a waft of Polo his way. “Stop staring like a dog in heat, man. Elle won’t drop her hose for just anyone.”
“Really?” Darren asked surprised by the authoritative tone of this submissive.
“Looking at her won’t get you in her pants.” Luke began organizing the boxes according to dates, ignoring Darren. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
Darren wondered what it would take to get Luke’s pants down, but held his tongue as Elle returned with the last of the boxes.
One look around the bulging, stacked boxes littering the floor and tables had her smiling, the wicked dimples he’d only glimpsed up to then taking full form. “I’ve got to run down to the floor, there’s an issue with a UPS shipment. I’ll be back in a bit to find out if you’ll need anything else pulled from storage.”
Darren sucked in his breath at those dimples. Oh, sweet mother of God, no wonder Maxwell was head over heels. For Darren, they pushed him right over the edge; they were so innocent and sweet. Elle turned before he could say anything too stupid and walked out.
Darren groaned, “Oh God.”
“Yeah, that smile’s a killer,” Luke said, never looking up from
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