Party of Three by Desiree Holt

He wanted her. There was absolutely no question about it. Wanted her the way he’d never wanted another woman before. With such an intensity that at times it threatened to burn him alive.

Drew Magellan could have everything and anything he wanted. Any woman he wanted. But he didn’t want to settle for just any woman, and he’d had plenty to choose from. No, he wanted Carolina Derosa, the gorgeous blonde client manager who was the hottest ticket on his staff and didn’t seem to see him as anything but her boss. Remote. The man who paid her.

And why should she? There were rules about things like that. If he made a move on her while she worked for him, she could sue him for sexual harassment. If he fired her, he’d be getting rid of his most valuable human asset.

He groaned as his cock hardened and pressed against his zipper, threatening to break through the fabric. He needed a hook but damned if he could think of one.

“I’d love to meet the woman who put that look in your eyes.” Linc Conover’s voice was amused as he lounged in one of the big chairs in the office. Just back from two years as a civilian contractor in the Middle East, he’d dropped in to see Drew and catch up on things.

“What makes you think it’s a woman?” Drew asked defensively.

“Hey, how long have I known you? I can tell when it’s a business look or a woman look. We’ve shared enough women so I can tell the signs. So give it up. Who is she?”

“No one you know. Just...someone.” He pushed himself away from his desk. “Let’s go downstairs to Mike’s and get a drink, then we’ll head out and find a good place for a steak.”

“Sounds good to me.” Linc unfolded from his chair. “Maybe we’ll run into this mystery woman of yours.”

“Hardly likely. Let’s go.”

Trust, Love, Submit by Kim Dare

“We have an audience,” Dallen Lewis whispered, dipping his head to let the words caress his lover’s ear.

“Oh?” It was a breathless little moan of a question. Caroline tugged at the cuffs around her wrists, as she turned her face towards the huge picture window that filled one wall of the play room.

Dallen stroked his knuckles up Caroline’s cheek and across the leather covering her eyes. He’d worn the same blindfold dozens of times, during all different kinds of scenes. He knew no hint of light, let alone any glimpse of the view into the hallway, would ever make it past the fabric.

“A dominant?” she asked.

Dallen lowered his head to press a teasing kiss against her neck and snuck another glimpse of the man on the other side of the glass. “Definitely.”

Caroline murmured her approval, of both the kiss and the information. Dallen sucked gently against the sensitive skin just below her ear, pulling a throaty moan from her.

Hands on her waist, he dragged her forward until her hips rested on the very edge of the bondage table. She tried to squirm her way even closer to him, her back arching against the padded slope, which had already supported her at the perfect angle to be admired and toyed with for over two hours.

Her wrists pulled at the cuffs again, but they remained firmly bound to the bar which ran along the top edge of the leather covered contraption.

Dallen ran his palms up and down Caroline’s sides, letting her feel his hands move against her skin, letting her know that he was there and she wasn’t alone in the darkness behind the blindfold. But that was all he offered her.

Caroline bit her lip, making Dallen’s smile falter. He knew the thoughts that raced through her mind all too well. And therein lay their principle problem.

Somehow he forced himself to wait Caroline out, to let his lover offer him her submission in her own time. Not giving his lover everything she wanted the moment he sensed her need, hadn’t become any easier with practice.

“Hot?” she finally asked.

“Of course,” Dallen murmured, as he rewarded the request for information with a kiss. “Tall, dark and dominant—just the way you like them.”

Strangers in the Night by Brynn Paulin

McKenzie Stewart knew what lay just inside Sin’s Door. Sex. Lots of it. Anonymous and hopefully hot.

Nervously, she ran her tongue over her bottom lip. Could she do this? It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing a quiet nanny usually did. Okay, it was the kind of thing a nanny never did. But at the moment, she wasn’t one. She had no charges and none lined up for a few months until the Andersons returned home from their trip abroad to Europe. They hadn’t wanted a nanny with them, and McKenzie was quite sure Mrs. Anderson didn’t want her around at all, but her husband insisted. To give the kids a sense of stability, you know? he’d told his wife, and somehow, she’d acted as if it was okay that he’d felt up the help.

McKenzie wasn’t all right with it, but at the moment, jobs weren’t exactly falling from trees. Neither were men—not that she was at all interested in Mr. Anderson. She just wanted a sexy as hell guy to keep her warm. Barring that, a normal guy would be okay.

So here she stood, staring at the green and blue neon lights of Sin’s Door. Normal did not reside beyond that portal to debauchery.

Butterflies bombarded her insides as she ran a trembling hand over her short, red plaid skirt. She’d dressed sweet, innocent, and subtly naughty tonight—not that the hint of school girl in her dress was subtle, but so be it. At twenty-five, with fewer curves that your average high school cheerleader, she could still get away with that.

She took a deep breath and pushed back her thick fall of dark brown hair. It brushed her lower back as she stepped towards the point of no return. And it was that point. She was not chickening out. Once she got through those doors, she was picking a guy and making a move and getting her brains fucked out. And tomorrow, maybe she’d do it again.

McKenzie was tired of being nursemaid to the rich and mistress to none. Her schedule left her zero time for men, and now at loose ends, she had no one to be with. And she wanted sex. Lord, how she wanted sex. Perhaps Mr. Anderson had sensed that, and that’s why he’d tried to feel her up just before his family’s trip. Or perhaps he was just a pervert. She wasn’t taking the blame for his actions.

So no man, no time—and usually no time for a man. It all brought her here, looking for anonymous sex. That would be far better than finding some poor guy who might want a relationship. Her job just didn’t allow for one. Not much. What guy would be happy with Saturdays after the kids’ bedtimes until Monday morning at six a.m.?

Yes, this was better.

Keeping Faith by Kris Norris

“Faith! Wait!”

Donovan Jones scrambled through the house after Faith, tripping over a pair of shoes he’d left lying in the hallway. He stumbled into the wall, clipping his arm on a shelf as he slammed to a halt. Faith glanced back but kept moving, juggling her pack to her other shoulder as she raced for the door. The little minx wasn’t going to give him a breath of time to catch up, but he’d be damned if he’d let her go without so much as a word.

He gained his balance and dashed after her, catching the door as it swung open. He threw his weight against the wood, slamming it shut before she could dart through. A hushed curse lit the air, but she didn’t turn to look at him, merely stared at the door, shoulders hunched, back stiff. Her raspy breath whispered across the room, and he knew she was fighting not to cry.

“Damn it. Would you just stop for one second and let me explain? I—”

“I don’t want explanations,” she huffed, cutting him off, jumping when Parker roared down the hall, a white towel clutched in his hands as he skidded to a halt beside them, his rough breath fluttering his hair as it whipped across his face, making him look more than dishevelled.

Donovan cursed, aware that the other man’s presence wasn’t helping the situation. Faith glanced over at him, tears pooled in her eyes, the glassy reflection stabbing guilt through Donovan’s gut. He’d royally fucked up, and he knew it.

“Faith.”

She raised her hand, nodding at Parker. “I think he’s explanation enough.”

Her voice cracked as a single tear cascaded down her cheek, shattering against the wood floor as if it were glass. She wiped at her face, irritation furrowing her brow. Donovan knew how much she hated crying in front of him, and he could tell it was only adding fuel to the fire.

“Look, darling, it’s not what you think. I swear.” He tried to smooth his hand down her arm, but she jerked it away, stepping back in order to avoid him.

“Of course not. It’s perfectly normal that Parker was waiting for you in your bed. Naked!”

“He was waiting for us, in our bed,” said Donovan.

Between A and Z by Suzanne Graham

“Mia! C’mon. What’s taking you so long?” Mia’s best friend, Shirle, yelled from the doorway of the sculpting studio. “Put down the tools and take a step back from that mountain of clay. You’ve been at it all day. It’s Friday night. Time to party.”

“Just a minute!” Mia called back. She rested her hands on the shoulders of the life-sized clay man in front of her and stared at his featureless face. “Show me your face,” she whispered. “I’ll stay here all night with you if you’ll just show me your face.”

Sometimes, she felt like she could hear him talking to her inside her head, but tonight he was quiet. She refused to analyse the mental health issues that hearing voices in her head could signify. Rather, she chose to focus on how she’d gotten more emotionally involved with this sculpture than anything she’d ever done before. She knew in her gut this was going to be one of the most special pieces in her body of work.

Squinting, she peered closer at the clay where his face should be, but she saw nothing to indicate how his eyes, nose or mouth should look. “You’re not ready to come out yet, are you?” she asked the lifeless form. “Fine, then I’m going dancing. I’ll be back tomorrow if you feel like showing up...if I don’t get lucky tonight.”

She pulled the plastic cover over her clay man, wiped her tools clean, and clicked off her work lamp before joining Shirle at the door.

“Girl, we’ve got to hurry if we’re going to make you party-presentable by eight.” Shirle grabbed Mia’s wrist and dragged her out of the studio.

Mia cast a final look over her shoulder at her latest project. She’d dubbed him Adam, because he was the first man she’d ever created. Most of her work had been female torsos with their curves and soft lines, but a few months ago her muse became adamant that it was time for her to produce a man. Though, she might have been confusing her surging libido with her artistic muse.

She’d been abstinent for nearly a year, but not because of any kind of premeditated plan. She’d been finding it hard to meet any men who met her criteria. She wasn’t especially selective, but the pickings over the past year had been slim to none.

Tonight was Shirle’s attempt to end Mia’s long dry spell and give her vibrator a night off. Shirle had organised a huge gathering of artists, actors and musicians from her Facebook connections, specifically sending the call out to all the straight, single men in the Chicagoland area. It was unofficially being called the Break Mia’s Abstinence Bash.

Lust Dazed by Charlotte Stein

Ellie Morgan could hear them through the bedroom door—all their excited boysy chatter as they tumbled into the apartment, on birthday highs. She could imagine exactly what they looked like, half-cut and dressed in their stupid idea of best. Evan in his too-tight striped jersey with the one frayed cuff, and those jeans that made him look like he had drainpipe legs. Jimmy in his tan suede coat that smelt weird. Both of them flushed, because of the drink they could never take.

Once, the pair of them had goaded each other into tequila slammers, then spent the night hung over her toilet. Crying for her to bring them damp cloths and hold their hair back. Like a pair of girls. A weird, hairy, massive pair of girls, who had then needed blankets and chicken soup and lots of sappy movies—followed by gory movies to prove their continuing manliness.

They were very manly, both of them. Which is why they were most definitely going to love a big swirly birthday cake, with lots of animal candles that were about to melt into funny shapes. Manliness practically demanded surprise birthday cakes from a friend who had claimed she couldn’t make it.

Especially when manliness also practically cried, on hearing that said friend couldn’t make birthday fun. She was starting to think they relied on her a little too much—but for what, it was hard to say. Loads of games of Mario Kart? Many, many insane ideas for features to go in the magazine they all worked for? Chicken soup and silence, on the sappy movie issue?

All seemed possible. And yet she still cringed inside her skin for a brief moment, while thinking of the probably silly cake and whether or not they really, truly would appreciate her being here. The candle flames flickered in the absolutely masculine depths of Evan’s dim bedroom, and it just seemed...very intrusive. On the whole boys-y thing they had going on, beyond the closed door.

They were probably going to wrestle, and shoot guns into the ceiling, and other things they did when she wasn’t around.

Such as watching dirty movies.

Like, right now. While she stood in Evan’s bedroom, possibly only inches away. She almost let the suddenly far too heavy cake slide right off its board, when Evan said as loud as a gong bashing against her head—

“No—no. Not another porno, seriously.”