Crave Me Read online

  Crave Me

  By Stacey Lynn

  Chloe

  I know I shouldn’t covet my sister’s ex-boyfriend.

  She may have wanted nothing to do with his BDSM lifestyle, but I’m a born submissive. And the only place I want to be is under Simon’s command.

  But he won’t go near me. Not with the memory of her so close.

  That leaves me no choice. If he won’t touch me when he knows who I am, I’ll have to come to him in disguise.

  He’s worth the risk. I’m meant to be his. Now I just have to prove it to him.

  Simon

  Being a Dominant cost me my first love, but I can’t deny who I am. I won’t. Control and power are everything, and the way I keep mine is by playing only with experienced subs. No exceptions.

  Until I met her.

  She wore a mask, but I knew the moment our lips touched she was meant to belong to me. Young, new to the world of BDSM—I knew training her would be a risk.

  I didn’t know it would destroy me.

  This book is approximately 80,000 words

  One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise!

  Carina Press acknowledges the editorial services of Penny Barber

  Dear Reader,

  I love paranormal romance, so it was an extra pleasure for me to decide we were going to publish two paranormal romance anthologies and then get to read all of the submissions for them. I’m pleased that these two anthologies, Primal Need: A Sexy M/M Shifter Anthology and Mated: A Paranormal Romance Shifter Anthology, are finally available for purchase this month. Romantic, sizzling and just plain fun, I think you’re going to love them.

  Primal Need features three talented authors of male/male romance bringing together three incredible tales (and tails, I guess? Ha!). In Parker Foye’s “Wolf in King’s Clothing,” collared shifter Kent must steal one final thing before he can be free, but alpha wolf Hadrian doesn’t intend to go quietly when he realizes he’s the thing Kent has to steal—nor does his pack intend to let him go without a fight. In “The Alpha’s Claim” by Holley Trent, quick-witted actor Teddy Gaines is the mate Coyote alpha Jim West’s inner beast craves, but in claiming the very human Teddy, Jim risks inciting rebellion in an already restless pack. Last in this male/male romance anthology is “Dark Water” by debut author K.L. White. Struggling with PTSD, blinded navy veteran Benjamin wades into the ocean to die but is intercepted by a kelpie, a water horse shifter named Rez, who planned to sacrifice him, but their unexpected passion and love may save them both.

  After an accident on her twenty-first birthday, Sam MacTire has to give his best friend, Callie, a quick and dirty education on the ways of the wolf, clan politics and the little problem of their raging hormones before he faces censure for defying clan law and changing her. Check out “Wolf Summer,” debut author Sionna Fox’s addition to the Mated paranormal romance anthology. Returning Carina Press author Shari Mikels joins her with “Drawn to the Wolves.” Wolf shifter and pack alpha Callan Mohan meets his human mate, former sketch artist Kate Ballard, who’s terrified of wolves after witnessing a traumatic childhood incident. And in “Saving His Wolf” by Kerri Adrienne, bear shifter Powell senses the instant he holds her that Olivia is his mate, but the one thing threatening their healing mating hunger is Olivia’s distrusting and vigilant pack—who are prepared to do anything to get her back.

  In addition to these six novellas, we have a full lineup of romance to keep you going through spring and the end of the school year! As FBI agents Aidan “Irish” Talley and Jameson “Whiskey” Walker struggle to separate their professional and personal relationships, the challenging task is made impossibly harder when they’re sent undercover—as basketball coach and sports agent—on an identity-theft case in which all their secrets are ripe for exposure. Layla Reyne’s Agents Irish and Whiskey series is back in Cask Strength, and if you’re not following this male/male romantic suspense series, you’re missing out. It’s not too late to catch up with book one, Single Malt.

  When she agrees to pose as his woman to get details they need for the case, things heat up fast—and it’s not long before the lines between business and personal blur, and they’re both in over their heads. Sarah Hawthorne’s Demon Horde contemporary romance series will keep you turning the pages and this newest installment, Rebel Custody, is no exception.

  Contemporary romance author Jen Doyle is back with her charming and romantic Called Out. Widowed mother of four Lola McIntire did not need a man. Been there, done that, got the broken heart. Even worse? A man who had more drama in his life than she did—like the irredeemable Jack “Ox” Oxford, the major-league pitcher who slept with his best friend’s fiancée. By all accounts, he should be called out. But there’s something about Jack that Lola just can’t shake.

  Jules Court first brought us Hot in the City and now she’s Enticing the Enemy. When passion erupts between police detective Daniel Cruz and defense attorney Erin Rafferty, natural enemies might become something more.

  Last this month is the steamy erotic romance Crave Me by Stacey Lynn. Master Jensen Rhodes was determined to leave the BDSM lifestyle forever, but when he’s introduced to Haley Portsmouth, a new sub seeking her first Dom, he not only decides he’ll train her for submission, he’ll take everything from her—including her heart.

  Pick your poison—or your paranormal or contemporary romance—this month with all these great offerings!

  Coming next month: Rhenna Morgan is back with her latest übersexy hero in the Haven Brotherhood series. Hang on to your hats because Trevor is going to knock your (cowboy) boots off and set your world on fire! Also releasing: our newest anthology offering, a capers and heists collection!

  As always, until next month, my fellow book lovers, here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you love, remember and recommend.

  Happy reading!

  Angela James

  Editorial Director, Carina Press

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Stacey Lynn

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Simon

  As a history teacher, I’d been to the public museum often. Every time I came here, I found something new. A different exhibit, a different artist brought in on tour. I’d much rather be walking through the halls of artwork or fossils or protected parchments from our forefathers than wearing a scratchy, Roman masquerade mask covering most of my face and a heavily-starched tuxedo.

  Granted, most of the time I went there I was preventing high schoolers from sneaking off into a dark
corner to make out or trying to make a tour exciting enough to keep dozens of sulky sophomores engaged enough to not pull out their smart phones and lose themselves in social media accounts. Although even I had to admit, I’d seen some hilarious images Snapchatted from them.

  I had never been there after hours, when the lights were dimmed except for the glow highlighting the most famous art pieces. I had never been there when the lights surrounding the outdoor patio lit up the Grand River on the west side of it. The entire second floor had been remodeled for tonight’s event. Circular tables lined walls that generally held children’s activities. Twinkling lights were draped across the ceiling and patterned rugs had been pulled back to reveal old, but beautifully maintained and glistening wood floors. Tables covered in black and gray tablecloths held centerpieces of crystal vases and simple calla lilies.

  It could have been a wedding reception for royalty, not a fundraiser for heart health awareness.

  I wasn’t the kind of person who participated in fundraisers and galas, but I had no problems doling out hundreds of dollars for a plate at this event benefitting research for the National Heart Foundation. Losing a father to a heart attack at too young of an age, even if I was in my twenties when it happened, had everlasting effects on me.

  Plus, I had the perfect date. My mother loved these kinds of events, and I liked seeing her happy.

  “Would you like some champagne?” I curved my hand over my mother’s, and squeezed gently.

  “Please, dear,” my mom, Grace, replied. Her voice was soft, a bit shaky. She’d been in awe with the décor since we stepped off the elevator. I squeezed her hand tighter.

  “Thanks for agreeing to come with me.”

  She’d been devastated after my father died. Thirty years of marriage and the first thing she still did in the morning was reach over to his side of the bed, searching for him before she was awake enough to remember he wasn’t there.

  Their love and their marriage gave a man hope he could find one person who would always stay by his side, keeping his memory alive long after he was buried in a casket.

  Even a man like me.

  I led Mom past the rows of the tables to a bar in front of an old, original train car. It was one of the first steam locomotive cars to run along the first railroads in Michigan in 1858. It’d been restored and placed in our museum in 1978. Every time I saw it, I wondered about the people who had ridden on it, where they were going, what they’d done for a living—

  “Can I help you?” the bartender asked.

  I flashed my mom a chagrined smile. “Sorry. Got lost in the train.”

  “Geeking out on history.” She smiled at me and patted my hand before releasing my arm. “You’ve been doing it since you were a child, Simon. I wouldn’t expect anything else from you. Especially in this beautiful place.”

  “Of course.” I turned from my mom to the bartender. “Two glasses of champagne, please.”

  Once I took the glasses from her, passed one off to my mom and shoved a gracious tip into a tip jar for the bartender, I took a sip of the champagne and turned, scanning the area.

  I didn’t fit in and it had nothing to do with my bulky frame or height. I was a teacher and coach and most of the people in the room were doctors and lawyers not to mention a few politicians hoping for re-election. I dished the money out because I believed in the cause, but my mom thrived in this kind of environment. She’d sat on the hospital charity board for years until she retired. The wife of a surgeon, she was well known in the community. When I invited her to attend with me, she was thrilled to come and see friends she hadn’t in years.

  “Would you like to roam or find our seats?” I asked, adjusting the mask covering most of my face. The material scratched my cheek and I wished for the hundredth time I had said screw the mask and just worn my glasses. I hated contacts more than donning a tuxedo.

  Through my mom’s emerald mask, her eyes twinkled with excitement. “I believe that’s the mayor over there.” Too polite to point, she nodded at the stage. “So hard to tell who anyone is with these masks on, but I’d recognize his hair anywhere.”

  I snorted and tried to cover it with another sip of champagne. The mayor was well known not only for his conservative policies, but his ridiculous silver-haired toupee.

  “Join me?” She tilted her head toward me.

  “No. You go ahead. I’m going to walk around some.”

  “Very well, then.” She winked, placed her hand on my shoulder, and skimmed it down my arm in her gentle way. “Stay out of trouble.”

  I laughed as she walked away and did another scan of the vast room. Despite the fact I taught many of the guests’ children, or coached them in hockey, I had very little interest in conversing with any of them.

  Conversations were usually either shallow or political, neither of which held my interest.

  Needing a breath of fresh air, something to cool me down and get me in the right mindset for the rest of the evening, I exited one of the sliding doors leading to the patio facing the river.

  It was frigid outside, but I didn’t mind. I barely noticed. At events like this, memories of my dad were louder and more vivid than usual. He’d been a neurosurgeon and well-respected man in Grand Rapids. He was a man of honor, high intellect, and even greater compassion for his family, friends, and patients. It had taken a long time to recover from losing him, and I often found myself still asking the same questions I wished I had the guts to ask him then.

  Was he proud of me?

  Did it ever bother him I turned away from medical school to teach?

  How in the hell did he ever find a woman like my mom to put up with his crazy antics and still love him after all these years?

  Did women like her still exist?

  I wanted one. Badly. There was a time several years ago, when I was confident I’d found her.

  One night in bed gone wrong, one slap to my cheek, and several threats of being reported for sexual abuse later, I had lost her.

  Other than the fact Cassie would never be the kind of woman I wanted in bed, I’d believed we were perfect for each other. Dozens of times over the last few years since we’d broken up, I’d wondered if I pushed her too hard, if I had introduced my kink to her too quickly. If I had taken it slower, would she have still rejected it—and me—so quickly and vehemently?

  “Damn it,” I groaned, and shoved a hand through my hair. It was unruly on top and my finger snagged in the strap at the back of my mask. “Stop this,” I muttered to myself. I shook my head, trying to clear it. Cassie was a memory better left in the past.

  In the three years since we’d broken up, I’d experienced what I’d always wanted. I’d found subs and I’d enjoyed myself plenty with them. Yet none of them ever spoke to my soul in any way to make me believe we’d share more than mutually pleasurable orgasms. I’d practically given up hope of finding anyone who could relate to me in the bedroom and out of it. And the night wasn’t the first time I’d considered calling it quits all together.

  Find a nice girl. Settle down. Bottle up the part of me I could potentially, maybe, possibly live without. Have children and make it all work.

  “God, it’s so depressing.” I had to get a grip and get back to the party before my mom came searching for me. I inhaled a deep breath of chilling air.

  “Funny,” a woman said in a soft, feminine voice.

  I jumped.

  “I was thinking it was beautiful out here.”

  In front of me, was a woman with beautiful curves. Black dress with a deep slit up her thigh. Sheer sleeves with a lace overlay, yet she wasn’t trembling from the cold. Blonde hair in direct contrast to her black dress curled perfectly, falling almost to her waist. Hips flared from a tiny waist. Her breasts almost pooled over the top of her dress in the most sexual, but still respectable, way possible. A long, t
hin neck and bright, shiny pink lips curved into the softest, gentlest and hell, gorgeous smile I’d ever seen.

  The world tilted and shook me up. “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry to interrupt.” She didn’t sound sorry. She took a step toward me, bringing her champagne glass to her lips. And hell, if I could tear my gaze off the way her lips curled around the thin edge of crystal. Or the way she swallowed so slowly, as if treasuring every bubbly taste. “It was getting warm inside and I needed some air. I can leave you alone if you’d like.”

  “No.”

  What? Alone was exactly where I should be. But there was something about this woman, her voice or her smile. It sparked a whisper of a memory I reached for and couldn’t grasp. “Do I know you?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “But we’ve met.”

  One slim shoulder lifted and fell. “Perhaps.”

  We had then. Irritated, I swallowed the rest of my champagne in one large, unclassy, gulp. “I’ll leave you to enjoy the beautiful view then.”

  “But if you’re gone, then the view goes too.”

  Holy shit. Who was this woman? And why was her forwardness doing the opposite of turning me off like it normally would? I was the chaser and pursuer. I went after what I wanted and usually got it. I liked women with timid smiles and nervous gestures like pushing hair behind their ears and hiding their blushing cheeks. I didn’t do brazen women who chased me like I was the mouse.

  Hell if I didn’t find myself stepping closer to her, noticing the way her breasts rose and fell with her quickened breath. “Who are you?”

  She smelled delicious. A hint of cinnamon on her breath as her lips parted.

  “And how do we know each other?”

  “You don’t know me, not really, Simon.”

  A strange ache slammed into my chest and my gaze flickered around the area. We were alone on the patio, in the frigid barely above freezing temperature. And suddenly, the sound of her voice, the brightness in her blue eyes I could see beneath her black and diamond mask made me feel like it was a hundred degrees.