A grand for a night's "work". Not bad at all. But money's not the real motivation. Living out a forbidden fantasy is. Yet the moment businesswoman Asia Kandell allows Ritter's buddies to wrap her nude, eager body in red rope, she's forced to ask herself what the heck she's gotten herself into. Granted, Ritter is both a famous ex-professional baseball player and a class-A hunk, but what insanity made her agree to be the main and only course at his birthday party, with a libido that's in danger of short-circuiting?
As for Ritter, what red-blooded man could keep his hands off the deliciously naked bow-tied package waiting for him in this made-for-sex hotel room? Not him.
Sometimes a man gets exactly the gift he asks for.
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November 13, 2009
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Excerpt from Roughing It by Vonna Harper
"You want to know the truth," he'd said with two too many beers in him during the barbeque at Mike's house. "Give me a sex slave."
Mike had nearly lost his non-existent dentures at that while Todd had laughed so hard he'd cried. And instead of keeping his stupid mouth closed, he'd kept flapping his gums.
"I'm surrounded by liberated women," he'd said. No further explanation had been necessary because he'd already told his pals about the female university professors, instructors, and graduate students who peopled and complicated his life. Not only was the president a woman, so were his assistant coaches, to say nothing of a team made up of liberated co-eds. All the time he'd been a professional baseball player, he'd lived surrounded by testosterone and beautiful women who knew how to cater to and take advantage of said testosterone. In some respects, that had left him ill-equipped for the real world beyond the Big Show.
True to his macho persona, he'd wanted to coach the university's varsity baseball team, but they already had a full staff so he'd decided to bide his time and feed his baseball addiction by taking the helm of the female equivalent. He was damn proud of his players, in awe of their physical abilities and quick minds, their self-confidence and don't-mess-with-me attitudes. If he ever had a daughter, he'd want her to face the world head on the way his team members did.
But when it came to what he wanted in the sack--
About to place the card in the slot, he paused. He and his buddies had come up with their fair share of antics over the years, but the protector of idiots gods must have been with them because they'd never been arrested. What if what his so-called friends had come up with for tonight wasn't an over-the-top bash but proof that he should have never opened his stupid mouth about a sex slave?
Fortunately, as far as he knew, sex slaves were in short supply and a couple of men whose personal lives revolved around mortgage payments, alarm clocks, and daycare were woefully ignorant of where one might be procured or rented or whatever. Him too. Everything he knew about women who at least pretended to put his needs and desires first and foremost came from back when he'd been chased by groupies.
Of course Mike and Todd might have found an actress to play the part.
Hoping that the first thing he'd see were the duo's goofy smiles and a beer being thrust into his hand, he opened the door. A line of illumination came from near the ceiling on the far wall, but it was a dusky red that made it all but useless when it came to making sense of the space. Instinct told him the room was empty of human life, putting an end to the fear that he was about to be jumped by revelers yelling, "Surprise!"
A party for one in a room dominated by a round bed large enough to double as a swimming pool?
Oh shit, this was no penthouse suite. It was what, some idiot's idea of a brothel? A Hollywood-set brothel.
"Mike? Todd? I'm going to kill you."
His words still echoing, he blinked repeatedly. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the lack of adequate lightning, which allowed him to take a more complete survey. The bedspread was deep red and satin or silk, which fit in with the heavy purple drapes covering what was probably a floor-to-ceiling window. To make matters worse, a number of purple, red and black pillows lay on the circular bed. The air smelled of some kind of perfume. He might not have minded if it wasn't so strong. And what was that, red flower petals strewn over the plush white carpet?
"Kill you slow. Make you suffer for a long time."
There was other furniture--dark nightstands on either side of the bed and a seating arrangement near the gaudy purple drapes. That area consisted of an oversized white couch and massive flat screen TV. He guessed it was either tuned to an adult station or a porn DVD had been loaded. On the ceiling directly over the bed--shit, it was a mirror, wasn't it?
"Death's too good for you two fools. What the hell is this about?"
He thought he heard something, a faint rustling sound, but before he could investigate, his cell phone rang. He didn't need to read the display to narrow the choice to two numbers.
"Are you there?" Todd asked before he could say hello.
"You sound hesitant. We thought you'd absolutely adore the decor."
"You and Mike have lost your ever-loving minds."
"That might be. Damn but I wish I could see your expression right now. Have you seen her?"
"Her?" Sharp, tiny teeth of either apprehension or anticipation nipped at his spinal column. "What are you talking about?"
"You haven't. She's there all right. You just have to go looking for the ultimate in gifts. One thing--she's exactly and everything you said you wanted."
"Hey, what are best friends for? One sex slave tied up in a bow and delivered." With that, Mike hung up.