Since we’re in the two week window of the release of Get Off Easy, I thought I would do some sharing. As in the entire first chapter of the novel. 😀 Don’t forget, you can pre-order the book right now for the special intro price of just 99 cents – on 6/16, the price will go to it’s normal retail price of 2.99. So get it while you can at this great price!
GET OFF EASY
Copyright © SARA BROOKES, 2015
All Rights Reserved, Silver Phoenix Labs
Darkness surrounded Grae.
In her life.
In her mind.
And even in her office as she leaned back in her overstuffed, overpriced chair and yawned. The creature comforts weren’t enough to keep her interested in the image flickering on her computer screen. Not that well-chiseled abs didn’t do it for her. They totally did. But considering the fact she’d been the one to draw, define, and enhance each one of those tongue-licking indentions, the final product had lost its appeal hours ago.
As long as the female audience members went wild, she would keep plodding along. Not to mention, if she didn’t deliver, she wouldn’t be paid her hard-earned paycheck. As tempting as it was to continue, she desperately needed a break.
A quick glance at her trusty desktop clock showed she hadn’t stopped for over thirty-six hours. Since she was on a deadline, her director’s schedule won out over sleep. And a shower. And a life. Especially because she was under contract. And if she wanted another shot at working with this director, she needed to have this guy’s abs painted on and swoon-worthy in the next three hours.
One hell of a reward awaited her after she completed her work, too.
As she made her way to the kitchen to refill her carafe, she tapped the reminder postcard that had arrived two days ago against her chin. Fresh coffee would get her through. At least it had to. She’d worked under tighter deadlines, and on less sleep, than this project.
Thirty-six hours with no sleep was kid’s stuff.
Her reward, however, was not child appropriate.
No way. No how.
Kochran Duke was throwing one of his famous parties tonight. Which meant there was a distinct possibility Saint and Boyce would attend. They never missed a party at the converted armory. No telling what they’d be doing though.
It was always a surprise when it came to those two.
She shoved a fresh filter into the basket, dumped in beans and water, and realized she didn’t care. They could sit and read nursery rhymes to one another, and she’d still get off. Wasn’t as though she’d joined Kochran’s exclusive website only to watch the pretty boys play with their toys.
Okay, well, it wasn’t the only reason.
There was a touch of practicality to why she chose to spend her night watching porn.
And it had nothing to do with satisfying her voyeuristic tendencies.
Her former Master had recommended the online dungeon when it became obvious she had all the desire and drive to submit, but none of the time. Noble House had several levels of membership depending on participation or observation. The fees were steep, but it was a small price to pay for satisfying a guilty indulgence from the privacy of her home office.
Once she’d discovered two of her closest friends in college were Dominants at Noble House, her interest in the private club had increased tenfold. Thanks to alumni updates from the university, she’d known they’d continued to date after they graduated. Even knew where they lived because of an article published six months ago in the yearly alumni newsletter about the building they’d saved from the wrecking ball and turned into an apartment complex. Knowing they were still together, and trying to change the world, warmed her heart.
And a few other strategic lady bits.
Someday she would visit Noble House. Though the idea of taking a vacation long enough to visit Northern California sounded absurd. With the constant trail of work following her wherever she went, taking a break was unheard of. Visiting friends she hadn’t seen in more than a decade was even more ludicrous. As was confessing she’d seen every one of their broadcasted scenes since she’d become a member.
And hunted through the archives.
Several times over.
The coffee pot chimed.
She dumped the contents into the carafe, then grabbed the French vanilla creamer. As she made her way back to her spacious office, her eyes slowly adjusted to the permanent darkness she’d created thanks to heavy light-blocking blinds. Day or night, the lighting in the room never changed. When she’d decided to leave the guaranteed contract with the big budget movie studio behind and become a freelancer, she’d invested in all the bells and whistles. No sense working from home without the proper equipment.
Six monitors wasn’t too much, right?
A quick check of the emails she’d been ignoring for the past few hours indicated the director was getting aggravated. Time to buckle down and turn out this masterpiece. Armed with a fresh cup of coffee, Grae leaned back to watch the fight sequence she’d been working on for the past week. She noted a few minor inconsistencies she could smooth over while she waited to see if she had approval. No need to waste her time if the director wanted to ditch the segment.
Task completed, she zipped the file, then dropped in onto her secure server. An email containing the link to the director was next and meant her part was complete. She flipped a switch to change over to her personal computer tower and waited for it to boot. When it finally beeped in greeting, she directed the browser window to Noble House’s main site. A few keystrokes, and the splash page for tonight’s event flashed onto the huge screen she’d mounted on the wall.
Two very familiar faces stared back at her.
Boyce Denali, the one on the left, wore heavy-duty leathers. Too bulky for working inside the club. These were the kind used for protection should he take a spill. Though she doubted he would ever be so careless. Boyce was the kind of man the pavement moved for. Dark blond, piercing blues, muscles to die for, and a chiseled bone structure even the most formidable Viking would find intimidating.
Ford Templar, on the other hand, was all dark and mysterious. Nicknamed Saint at the club, Ford was broody. Sulky. Dark hair. Olive skin. Lean muscles. The dark to Boyce’s light. Except his eyes. Those eyes. Eerily colored, they reminded her of glass Coke bottles. Rumor had it, his gaze could pierce right through to someone’s soul. While Boyce held a commanding air which demanded to be heard, Saint wore his power subtly but still all dominant authority.
Seemingly connected at the hip, the two men scened together every week. Much to her delight. Grae didn’t think she’d ever seen them work with a submissive alone. Not that the choice to only carry out ménage scenes affected their standing at the club. Not in the least. Every time they worked together, their scenes had been nothing short of spectacular.
“Let’s see what you’re up to tonight, boys.”
* * * * *
The submissive Boyce had just finished securing to the bondage table struggled against her cuffs. Not surprising given the size of the dildo Saint had extracted from his toy bag. Boyce had been intimidated the first time Saint had used it on him too. Damn thing had felt as though it had been about to split him in two. And he’d cursed Saint’s full name the entire time he’d come.
Now that was a glorious memory.
Boyce tucked it away for later. Something to relive after this scene when they were alone.
Saint’s green eyes glittered in the stage lighting. Yeah, Saint was enjoying himself way too damn much to mention it. Not that Boyce would complain. He wasn’t the one facing down the monstrous cock.
But he would definitely reap the rewards.
Boyce angled his face so the submissive and the cameras mounted around the room couldn’t see him mouth fucker to Saint. That gloriously wicked gleam darkened, transforming Saint from sadistic bastard to devilishly handsome sadistic bastard.
Definitely spending some time walking down memory lane later.
As Saint screwed the abundantly sized phallus to a long shaft attached to his custom fucking machine, Boyce crouched. Time to pay attention to a very worried looking submissive. Face level with Asha, he stroked her cheek. Her whimpers grew softer, her breathing regulating as he caressed her. Her amber eyes unfocused, glazing over as he encouraged her attention to remain on him.
Boyce swept some of her blonde hair to the side, exposing the bright red flush that darkened her cheeks. That same flush had spread across her neck. The gentle swells of her breasts. She was smaller than Boyce usually favored, a tiny package of a woman who barely cleared his chest when she was upright.
But her petite size didn’t make her any less desirable.
Boyce loved women—and men—of all shapes and sizes. And Asha was a cute, little pixie package who had more than enough enthusiasm to make up for her small size. She also had the wrath of Kochran Duke hanging over her head.
They’d planned a different scene entirely for the evening, but Kochran had intercepted them earlier in the day and called in a favor. One of the House submissives needed an attitude adjustment. She had a reputation for being mouthy with the Noble House Doms during a scene. Everything from topping from the bottom, coming whenever she damn well felt like it, and a few other infractions that went against club rules.
It appeared as though the owner of Noble House had finally reached his limit on her bratty behavior. Boyce knew Kochran well enough to recognize this scene was just the first of many Kochran planned to subject the little bundle of energy to.
Boyce traced the flush of red across her torso, following it down until he reached the small triangle of carefully groomed pubic hair. “Eyes on me, sprite.”
She giggled at the nickname he’d branded her with when she’d introduced herself earlier in the evening, before the cameras had been turned on. When they’d discussed limits. Punishment was punishment. However, it didn’t preclude absolute no-nos.
And Asha didn’t have many.
Boyce locked his gaze on hers as he scissored his fingers and spread her pussy lips. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Saint performing a safety check to make sure all the mechanical parts were in working order.
“Open your legs wider for me.” She bit her lip as she complied. So accommodating. She knew she’d fucked up and was willing to accept whatever was thrown at her. If Boyce had to guess, he’d bet she’d done it on purpose just to gain attention. Wouldn’t be the first time a submissive purposefully misbehaved.
Certainly was going to get her wish now.
Boyce pressed a gentle kiss to her knee. Legs still weren’t wide enough to give the optimum view for the cameras once things really got going. He could order her again, but everyone was expecting a show. And he intended to give them one. Boyce hooked a second ring on a metal circle above her ankle, closing each of them with a snap, and made a few adjustments. Now her legs were spread wide, her ankles high in the air and secured by clips with panic snaps.
Boyce reached into his pocket. As he drew out a handful of clips, the sprite whimpered. “Courtesy of Kochran.” He plucked two of the metal items from the pile before tossing the rest toward Saint. “Since she’s on restriction, we should educate her accordingly.”
“Works for me.” Saint jiggled the clips, deep in thought.
Boyce returned to the head of the table to give Saint some time to formulate a plan on where he wanted to take the scene as Saint was the lead this time around. Boyce would co-Dom for the night, picking up any slack where guidance was needed.
Which suited Boyce just fine.
They’d been together long enough that Boyce could read even the most subtle signal. Most of the time, once they both dropped into the zone, Boyce could read even the smallest nuance and anticipate Saint’s every move. They worked well together, which was probably the reason Kochran had enlisted their assistance.
“Please don’t clamp me. Please. It will hurt.” Asha’s hair fanned out against the deep purple covering on the bondage table as she shook her head. Panic had drawn her slender eyebrows together and dilated her pupils.
Boyce loved seeing this kind of reaction. Loved watching a submissive struggle and beg. It meant he was doing his duty as a Dom. Fear—even controlled fear—was an excellent aphrodisiac.
“That’s the general idea of punishment, sprite.”
While she continued to whimper softly, Boyce turned his focus to her chest. She needed a distraction of some kind while Saint continued prepping. Leaning closer, Boyce ringed one of her nipples, enjoying the way the pink bud hardened under his tongue. A gentle squeeze had her arching off the table.
Yeah. The little sprite enjoyed pain way more than she had let on. Not that Boyce had doubted Kochran’s word. The owner always knew exactly what was going on at any time in his club. Like he instinctively recognized each of his members wants and desires.
Freakishly so sometimes.
As Boyce continued circling, teasing and nipping, a fine sheen of sweat began to coat Asha’s tanned skin. When he began tightening the clamp around one of her erect nipples, her eyes glazed over, her mind taking her to a place where pain and pleasure were almost indistinguishable.
Too bad he’d given Saint the extra clips. Her dusky nipples looked pretty clamped, the tips of the metal fasteners trembling as he tied a thin string around an open loop on one end and secured them to the clips at her wrists. Though he admired the way her breathing tugged and pulled on the string, he thought about an artful circular pattern ringing her entire breast. Giving her that pain she claimed not to care for.
Saint had beaten him to the punch in a similar industrious fashion by taking the handful of clips and lined them in a neat vertical row, pinching her pussy lips together. Effectively locking her in chastity. Saint pulled her ass to the edge of the table and positioned her so he could use the entrance he hadn’t blocked.
“Just being resourceful.” Saint retrieved a tube from his bag and began slicking her with lubricant.
Boyce didn’t distract her this time, but watched her body and mannerisms with a keen eye as Saint began brushing the dildo against her anus. Her breathing was steady, if a bit ragged. Her color had brightened as her arousal level grew. She kept licking her lips, as though she was preparing to say something, but each time, Saint would dip the toy into her opening.
The man was no fool.
He was keyed in enough on her, on the scene, that he didn’t even need to hear verbal protests to know when the push her. Saint’s method of solving her problems was going to be barreling over her defenses to wiggle his way under her skin.
Boyce had seen it often. Experienced it firsthand even more. And loved it each and every time whether he was on the receiving end or not. His pride, and love, for Saint swelled, even though he didn’t think it possible. The man continued to surprise him more and more.
As Saint slid the dildo in and out a few times, Asha unleashed a long, low wail followed by an inventive string of curses.
And there was the mouthy submissive they’d been tasked to discipline.
Boyce bit his lip to keep from grinning. She had a flair for the melodramatic, no doubt about that. Some Doms got off on that behavior. Some didn’t. Asha needed to learn there was a time and a place. And how to learn the differences when instructed.
Boyce caught the ball gag Saint tossed him. “Muffle her.”