Wild Irish: Wildly Inappropriate (Kindle Worlds Novella) Read online

  “I took the liberty,” he said. “A toast.”

  “A toast.” She raised her glass.

  “To new things.”

  She blew out a breath. “To hoping you’re not going to make me into a skin suit.”

  Edward tapped his glass to hers as he laughed. Win smiled, watching him, and a happy tendril of anticipation raced through her.

  3

  She’d told her best friend where she was going, left a copy of Edward’s business card on her counter along with a letter explaining how and where she met him, and why she was going to meet him now. If she disappeared, hopefully that would be enough evidence to help the police find her mutilated body.

  Winter stopped on the sidewalk outside the hotel front doors and seriously considered turning around. On almost every level this was a terrible idea, and imagining being hideously murdered was not helping.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she said aloud. “You can go home.”

  She didn’t want to go home. She wanted to walk through those doors and forget about everything except living in the moment, and enjoying this new adventure.

  “Ma’am?” The valet who’d parked her car looked at her, concerned.

  “Blind date,” she said.

  “Ah. Do you want me to go in and check him out?” The young man looked so earnest that she relaxed.

  “No, thank you, though. Just nervous.”

  “If you need any help, you let one of us know.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  The stranger’s concern for her helped ease her nerves—it reminded her that people were basically good, and the chances she was about to be hideously murdered were relatively slim. She stepped up to the automatic doors and entered the hotel lobby. It was elegant, with marble floors, tasteful arrangements of all-white flowers, and glossy black lacquer furniture paired with gold velvet easy chairs. It looked a bit like a modern Versailles. She’d never been in this hotel, and she’d lived in Baltimore her whole life. It was too small to have a ballroom or banquet facilities, and on the odd occasion she’d needed a hotel room in her hometown, she’d chosen something much less expensive than this.

  She resisted the urge to fiddle with her outfit. Edward hadn’t said anything about what she should or shouldn’t wear, so she’d opted for the nicer of her two black cocktail dresses—knee length, off the shoulder, it had a sort of classic elegance. Target had really upped their game in the clothing department, and she’d had her eye on this piece for a month, waiting until it hit the sale rack to buy it.

  She’d pulled her hair up in a twisted bun, using one of those hair things they advertised on late night TV. Her makeup was simple—black waterproof eyeliner on her upper lids only, highlighter on her cheeks, chin, and nose, eyebrow pencil, and nude lipstick.

  She’d debated a necklace, but at Pat’s she’d caught him looking at her bare neck a few times, and so had left off jewelry, except for a large antique Eastern Star ring of her grandmother’s that was black and silver. The ring matched her shoes, which were black peep toe with an ankle strap, and her shimmering silver toe and finger nails.

  She walked towards the front desk, directly across the lobby from the front doors. Her heels clicked against the floor, echoing slightly.

  “Winter.”

  She stopped when he said her name, and she exhaled slowly before turning.

  Her heart caught in her throat. He looked like a prince from the modern retelling of a fairytale.

  He wore navy slacks, a white shirt, and a navy waistcoat. The collar of his shirt was open, exposing the hollow of his throat.

  Winter’s steps were slow as she walked over to him, partially from nerves, partially in deference to the rarely-worn heels. Slipping on the hard floor and breaking her ankle would put an end to this adventure before it began.

  She stopped a few feet in front of him. “Hello, Edward.”

  “Winter.” He offered his hand, kissed her knuckles when she placed her fingers in his. “Shall we?”

  “Now?” she asked.

  His gaze roamed over her face. “What did you expect?”

  “We...maybe we’d sit?”

  “We could do that, but we can as easily sit in the suite I have for us. As we discussed, tonight you’re committing to be with me from six pm to ten pm. It’s almost six now.”

  This isn’t a date.

  That thought flittered through her head and she nearly winced when she realized she had been thinking about this like a date—a date that would end in sex, but a date nonetheless.

  Men like Edward didn’t date women like her. They dated models, or Harvard grads. They didn’t date non-profit case workers with messed up home lives who lived off of caffeine, stress, and cheap protein bars. She was here because she wanted to try submitting sexually. Edward had offered to introduce her to the lifestyle. This was not a date.

  It was a business sex arrangement.

  Wait, that made it sound like prostitution.

  Her emotions must have shown on her face, because Edward’s expression softened. “There is no shame in changing your mind, but I’m going to guess that you’ve been thinking about, possibly worrying about, our meeting since we arranged it a few days ago. Sitting here in the lobby will only prolong your anxiety.” He dropped her hand. “The choice has to be yours.”

  Win stepped closer to him and slipped her arm around his. “Let’s go.”

  He bent his elbow, laying his fingers over hers where they rested on his forearm. “You’re sure?”

  “Not at all, but let’s do this.”

  He chuckled and leaned towards her. “I can safely promise we’ll have a very good time.”

  His warm breath fanned the sensitive, bare skin of her neck, and she shivered. “Now I’m sure.”

  Together they walked to the elevators. Edward pressed the button, then reached into his pocket. “Here is your key to the room.”

  When they stepped into the elevator she put the key in her small black purse, then asked. “What’s the room number?”

  “1504.”

  She took out her phone and texted that information to her best friend.

  “Telling someone where you are?”

  “So they know where to start searching for my skinless body.”

  “Skinless?”

  “You know, after you make me into a skin suit?”

  He tipped his head to the side. “You’re rather small. I couldn’t make a whole suit out of you. Maybe a nice hat.”

  The door opened. “Haha,” she said.

  He grinned. “You started it.”

  “If I had a client who admitted to doing something like this, meeting a strange man a hotel room for sex… Sex in which she would probably end up unable to run or call for help...”

  “Client?” They’d reached the door. He used his key to unlock the room.

  “I’m a social worker. Case worker. Never mind that.” She exhaled. “I think I’m babbling.”

  “You’re nervous.”

  He pushed the door open, and gestured for her to proceed him. “I won’t tell you not to be, but I will remind you that you took precautions.”

  He’d been the one to suggest some of the precautions she’d taken, including leaving his business card.

  Winter hesitated only a moment before stepping in. The room was beautiful, with a massive seating area that included a couch, large ottoman with a tray on it that served as a coffee table, two armchairs, a desk, and a massive flat-screen mounted on the wall. There was a kitchenette on her left, a half-bath on her right. The door to the bedroom was open, and she caught sight of the crisp, clean white linens on the bed.

  “Put your things in the kitchen area,” he said softly. “Then they’ll be close to the door, and you’ll know where they are.”

  Win set her small clutch on counter, then turned to look at him. Edward was casually leaning one shoulder against the wall by the door. “By my things, do you mean...” she swallowed.

  “Do I me
an your clothes?” He raised one brow.

  She nodded stiffly.

  “Yes, I’ll leave your clothes and shoes here, but I’ll take them off you.” His gaze met hers. “When I want to.”

  Win shivered and closed her eyes.

  His hands cupped hers, then slid up her arms, until he touched the fabric of the off-the-shoulder neckline. “I like unwrapping my toys.”

  “Is that what I am now?” She opened her eyes, met his gaze. “Your toy?”

  He touched her cheek. “Do you want to be?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe not my toy,” he whispered, leaning in. “Maybe you’ll be my pet, my sub, my plaything.”

  His lips closed over hers, the kiss hard and demanding. She opened her mouth and his tongue flicked against her lower lip. When she tried to return the kiss, sliding her own tongue into his mouth in turn, his hand slid into her hair, tugging gently. She stopped, relaxed her jaw, and let him take her, possess her.

  When he broke the kiss, she was panting.

  Edward held her gaze, then dropped to one knee. He undid the ankle strap of her shoe and eased it off her foot. He held her foot in his hand for a moment, thumb pressing against the arch. It was a casually possessive touch that she felt along every nerve ending in her body. He took off her other shoe, then picked them up and placed them beside her bag on the counter.

  He was half a head taller than her, quite a bit broader, and stronger. All the things that only moments ago had made her nervous, now made her pant with desire.

  “Safeword,” he reminded her.

  “Lemon.”

  “Good.” He stroked her cheek and then motioned for her to step further into the room. She did, stopping near the ottoman. She looked down at the tray and gasped. There was a piece of fabric spread on the tray, and laid out on the fabric were a dozen toys and implements. In the shocked moment she stared at them, she recognized a silver anal plug, nipple clamps, a crop, a ball gag, and a dildo.

  Winter yelped, turned away, and smacked into Edward.

  He was the one she should be running from, but instead of darting around him and running for the door, she pressed herself against his chest, burying her face against his neck. After a moment his arms came up around her, and then he kissed the top of her head.

  Her heart lurched in her chest, and she ruthlessly squashed the warm, mushy feelings that started to develop. She wasn’t dating him, she was going to be his sex toy. A hug and a kiss on the head didn’t change that.

  “It’s okay, Winter. It’s okay. You don’t have to do this.”

  She raised her face, looking up at him. “I want to. But I’m scared.”

  “You’ll be frightened, because it’s new. Unknown. Can you handle that?”

  “Yes. I can handle anything.”

  “Turn around.”

  She stepped back and then turned. He unzipped her dress, then gave the hem one quick tug. It fell to the floor.

  She’d debated whether or not to wear panties, but in the end decided to wear them. She’d worn a strapless black bra, and black lace boy-cut underwear. She couldn’t see his face, but felt his gaze on her. When his hands cupped her hips she jumped, then forced herself to relax.

  “You’re going to do the rest,” he told her. “Take off your bra and panties. Drop them on the floor. Then turn around and let me look at you.”

  Her hands were no longer shaking as she unhooked the small front clasp of her bra, letting it fall to the floor. She wasn’t nervous anymore, because she was so turned on that arousal was muting almost every other feeling. She shimmied out of her panties, then stepped out of them.

  One fortifying breath and she turned around, facing this strange man that she was trusting with not just her body but her emotional welfare.

  Win had good genes, at least when it came to physical appearance. That combined with the fact that she rarely had time to eat meant she stayed relatively slender, though she envied women in magazine who were toned and had muscles. Her breasts were on the larger size of B, but no longer perky with youth. She catalogued these things she didn’t like about herself as Edward, still fully dressed, looked her over.

  She couldn’t read his expression, and when he walked to the side she started to turn to stay facing him. He caught her chin. “Face forward, Winter.”

  She stayed still as he moved behind her. When fabric dropped in front of her face, she jumped in surprise, but submissively closed her eyes as he tied the blindfold.

  “This is your first scene, so I’m going to take it slow. I want to understand what kind of submissive you are. I have your checklist, and as I suspected, we share many interests.”

  “What are they?” she asked.

  He chuckled. “If I told you, that would ruin the surprise.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m going touch you, Winter. Intimately. Have you ever had a one-night stand before?”

  “No.”

  “So this is the first time you’ll have someone you’re not emotionally involved with touching you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it will either make you uncomfortable, or it will be part of the experience.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that you can see it two ways—either you’ll feel awkward until you feel that we know one another better, or you’ll feel excited by the taboo nature of being intimate with a stranger. Tell me, have you ever had a fantasy about being sold as a sex slave?”

  She winced inwardly at the term, since human trafficking was an all-too-real problem, but she knew what he was talking about—not any kind of reality, but the fantasy of being the lovely young woman sold to the handsome, sexy man who would not rape, but instead treasure and pleasure the woman.

  “Yes,” she admitted. “Though the fantasy falls apart if I think about it too hard.”

  His fingers skimmed the line of her bare neck. “Then don’t think about it too hard. Imagine you’re...you’re a princess who’s been married to a, uh...”

  “Brutal warlord and I have to submit in order to save my people.”

  His fingers, which had been trailing up and down her arm, paused. “Had that right on the tip of your tongue, didn’t you?”

  “I have an active imagination.”

  Lips pressed against her shoulder. “All the best people do, and I like your fantasy. My princess.” His palms slid from the top of her shoulders over her collarbone, then skimmed the outside of her breasts. When he cupped them, she gasped and hunched her shoulders.

  “No,” he commanded. “You’re mine, aren’t you, princess?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “These breasts, they’re mine to play with, aren’t they?” Thumbs fluttered across her nipples.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  For a moment she wasn’t sure if she should commit to the role-play and call him husband or barbarian, but this wasn’t about role-play, this was real. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. Now, so you won’t do that again, I want you to raise your arms, lace your fingers together and rest them on the back of your head.”

  Slowly, Win obeyed, wishing she could see his face.

  “When you are positioned like this, it raises your breasts, keeps your arms out of the way, so I have full access to what is mine.” He thumbed her nipples again and she moaned. She had never been this aroused before—she felt nearly lightheaded with it, and she knew that her sex was damp with arousal.

  “Spread your legs.” He whispered the words against her cheek, his hands on her hips.

  She stepped out to the sides, until her feet were shoulder width apart. He tapped the inside of her thigh with his knee and she spread her legs further, panting against his cheek.

  “Are you aroused?”

  “I’ve never...felt like...please?” She was practically stuttering.

  He hummed in approval, and then his hand cupped her sex, lifting her, his palm pressed hard against her pussy lips.


  Win rose up on her toes. She would have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed her waist with his other hand, holding her firmly.

  “I want you to relax, princess.”

  “But your hand.”

  “My hand is exactly where I want it to be. You’re trying to control the situation.”

  “I’m not,” she protested.

  “You are. You think I’m pushing on you too hard, so you’re moving away from my hand.”

  Win shook her head. “But that’s not about trying to control anything.”

  “It isn’t?”

  Winter slowly lowered her heels to the floor. He kept up the hard pressure between her legs. It didn’t hurt, but it was unfamiliar, and because of that, discomforting if not uncomfortable.

  “Good, princess. Good.” His hand left her pussy, and she felt cold after the firm, relentless heat of his skin.

  She felt him shift, and a moment later his breath fanned across her mound. He was kneeling in front of her.

  “Edward!” she yelped in protest.

  “What did you say?” His voice was a low rumble, and though he asked it as a question, it was clearly a warning.

  “I’m sorry...Sir.”

  “As of now, you are not to speak again. You will stand still, and let me inspect you, for however long, and in whatever way, I wish.”

  Win nodded once.

  “Good. Now then.” He ran his fingers over her bare pussy—she’d gone for the full wax a few days ago, the first time she’d ever done that. “You have a beautiful pussy, princess. Plump, soft.” His thumbs stroked her labia, from her mound all the way back between her legs. He then parted the lips of her sex, opening her, exposing her wet, aching core. She shivered, and her cheeks were hot with embarrassment.

  “Lovely,” he murmured. “You’re a lovely pink color, and very wet.”

  A single finger dipped into her pussy, touching her inner labia, then sliding up to graze her clit.

  Win whimpered, her hands fisting in her own hair.

  “Are you close to orgasm? Nod or shake your head.”

  She nodded frantically.

  “Do you think you should be allowed to come?”

  Win didn’t respond. There was no good answer to that question.