New Release ~ Legally Bound ~ by ~ Golden Angel

 

 

 

 

 

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๐™๐™๐™š๐™ž๐™ง ๐™™๐™š๐™จ๐™ž๐™ง๐™š ๐™ž๐™จ ๐™ง๐™š๐™–๐™ก, ๐™—๐™ช๐™ฉ ๐™ž๐™ฉ’๐™จ ๐™œ๐™ค๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™œ ๐™ค๐™ฃ ๐™ฉ๐™ง๐™ž๐™–๐™กโ€ฆ

๐˜ˆ๐˜ง๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜จ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฉ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜‹๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฅ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ด, ๐˜๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฅ๐˜บ ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ๐˜ด ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ด ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ. ๐˜Š๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ถ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ง๐˜ถ๐˜ญ, ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฐ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ, ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ด๐˜บ. ๐˜š๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ด ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ง๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ ๐˜๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฅ๐˜บ, ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ. ๐˜‰๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ณ ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ฏ ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ต ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ญ๐˜ถ๐˜ฃ, ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜บ ๐˜ง๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฉ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ต ๐˜ฑ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฆ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฆ๐˜น๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ต: ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ๐˜จ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ข ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜บ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ท๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ฆ, ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฑ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ค๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ด.ย 

๐˜“๐˜ฆ๐˜จ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ๐˜บ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ช๐˜ณ ๐˜ค๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ด’ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ด ๐˜ง๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ด๐˜ต, ๐˜๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฅ๐˜บ ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜Š๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ต ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฑ๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ช๐˜ณ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ช๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฎ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜บ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ต ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ช๐˜ณ ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ด. ๐˜—๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ข๐˜จ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ด๐˜ต ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฉ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฃ๐˜บ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ช๐˜ณ ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜บ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ง๐˜ง๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต ๐˜ค๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ด, ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ-๐˜ฑ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ๐˜บ๐˜ด ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ถ๐˜จ๐˜จ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ท๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฉ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ช๐˜ณ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ. ๐˜Š๐˜ข๐˜ฏ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜บ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜บ’๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ, ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ฆ ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต๐˜ด ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ญ๐˜ถ๐˜ฃ ๐˜จ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ฎ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ?ย 

 

 

 

 

 

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Camille

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Today was going to be terrible.

Her year had ended pretty well, and if she counted those early hours of the morning with Freddy, then it had started out pretty great, but everything had been pretty much downhill from there.

Yesterdayโ€™s visit with her mom had been fine too, actually. It was work that had frustrated her. Going through the Alexanderโ€™s prenup with a fine-tooth comb had given her a headache. Whoever had given the Alexanders the advice to sign it had been a total hack. More than one section was unclear.

Granted, things could go either way, but she wasnโ€™t sure it would go Mrs. Alexanderโ€™s way, even though she was likely the more deserving party.

Youโ€™re not supposed to be thinking that way. Mr. Alexander is your client, not her. Youโ€™re supposed to be saving him as much money as possibleโ€ฆ so that he can pay it all to Donaldson and some of it will come to you.

Right.

Sometimes, she felt like this job was sucking the soul right out of her body.

At least she had something to look forward to for the end of the day. Her reward to herself for getting through this afternoon was calling Freddy. During her lunch hour, sheโ€™d also sent in the application for membership to Stronghold and Marquis. In some small way, she was claiming some of herself back.

โ€œUgh, this is going to be such a waste of time.โ€ Nicholas Alexander III, all six feet of him, was slouched in one of the conference room chairs. At first glance, he was handsome enough. In his late forties, he still kept himself in shape. He had dark brown eyes and matching dark brown hair sprinkled with just a touch of salt. At second glance, it was impossible to miss the petulant set of his mouth and the arrogant unhappiness emanating from him like a bad smell.

Well, it was impossible for her to miss. She knew Rachel, the receptionist who had escorted him into the conference room, hadnโ€™t noticed his flaws. She had been all smiles and giggles as Mr. Alexander smirked and flirted with her.

Thankfully, he didnโ€™t try that with Camille.

โ€œDo you want me to call the meeting off?โ€ she asked. Mrs. Alexander was due any minute, along with her counsel from Addison, Oโ€™Shane, and Smith, and Alfred Johan. AOS, as they were known, had a reputation for representing women like Mrs. Alexander, who had ended up married to rich assholes who didnโ€™t want to pay their alimony.

They made a lot of money making those rich assholes pay out the ass.

Personally, Camille would like to see nothing more. Professionally, it was her job to thwart their intentions. According to him, she was supposed to keep him from having to pay anything at all, which was why they were going to court.

She was pretty sure heโ€™d hoped Mrs. Alexander wouldnโ€™t be able to find representation or that sheโ€™d decide it wasnโ€™t worth going to court and would just quietly go on her way. Camille had tried to explain to him that wasnโ€™t going to happen as soon as she knew who Mrs. Alexanderโ€™s representation was, but Mr. Alexander had dug in his heels, and now here they were.

Which meant trying her best, knowing if she succeeded, she was going to screw some poor woman out of money she was rightfully owed, or her own client, and therefore, her firm, were going to be unhappy with her. This morning, sheโ€™d figured out the reason the partners had passed Mr. Alexander off to her. They knew the chances of winning were fifty-fifty, and they didnโ€™t want him unhappy with any of them.

Worried it would ruin their golf game or something.

โ€œNo,โ€ Mr. Alexander said after a long minute, straightening in his seat and tugging his suit jacket down so he didnโ€™t look so rumpled. โ€œNo, Iโ€™m not going to let that bitch get her hands on any of my money. Not when sheโ€™s trying to fucking leave me.โ€

Camille really hoped Mrs. Alexander actually was a bitch. Then she wouldnโ€™t feel so bad about having to represent this asshole. She didnโ€™t bother to point out the reason his wife would get his money was because of the prenup heโ€™d signed.

There was a knock on the door before she could respond. It opened and Rachel smiled as she walked in. The knock had just been to give them a quick heads up that the other side had arrived.

โ€œRight this way. Ms. Sinclair and Mr. Alexander are waiting for you.โ€

To Rachelโ€™s credit, she didnโ€™t give Mr. Alexander one of her simpering smiles. She just stepped out of the way to let the people behind her walk in.

Halfway to getting to her feet, while Mr. Alexander rudely remained seated beside her, Camille froze when she saw who was walking through the door.

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Freddy.

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Read the FIRST CHAPTER today!

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Jen-2

Golden Angel is a USA Today best-selling author and self-described bibliophile with a “kinky” bent who loves to write stories for the characters in her head. If she didn’t get them out, she’s pretty sure she’d go just a little crazy.

She is happily married, old enough to know better but still too young to care, and a big fan of happily-ever-afters, strong heroes and heroines, and sizzling chemistry.

When she’s not writing, she can often be found on the couch reading, in front of her sewing machine making a new cosplay, hanging out with her friends, or wandering the Maryland Renaissance Fair.

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New Release ~ Switch Play ~ by ~ Golden Angel

 

 

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๐™๐™ง๐™ค๐™ข ๐™ฉ๐™๐™š ๐™ฅ๐™–๐™จ๐™ฉ ๐™ฉ๐™ค ๐™ฉ๐™๐™š ๐™ฅ๐™ง๐™š๐™จ๐™š๐™ฃ๐™ฉ, ๐™ฉ๐™๐™š๐™ฎ’๐™ซ๐™š ๐™–๐™ก๐™ฌ๐™–๐™ฎ๐™จ ๐™—๐™š๐™š๐™ฃ ๐™ง๐™ž๐™ซ๐™–๐™ก๐™จ. ๐™’๐™๐™ค ๐™ฌ๐™ž๐™ก๐™ก ๐™›๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™–๐™ก๐™ก๐™ฎ ๐™˜๐™ค๐™ข๐™š ๐™ค๐™ช๐™ฉ ๐™ค๐™ฃ ๐™ฉ๐™ค๐™ฅ?

๐˜๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ ๐˜ด๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ๐˜ญ, ๐˜˜๐˜ถ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜š๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ด ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ต ๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜บ ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ. ๐˜•๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜บ’๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜จ๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฑ ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ด ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ญ๐˜ถ๐˜ฃ, ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ช๐˜ณ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ท๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ณ๐˜บ ๐˜ง๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ฃ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฌ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฑ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜บ ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜บ ๐˜ฆ๐˜บ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฉ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ.ย  ๐˜ž๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜บ ๐˜ง๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฎ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜จ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ข ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜บ ๐˜ฌ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฌ ๐˜ค๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ด, ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ ๐˜ด๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ช๐˜ณ ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ. ๐˜‰๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ, ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ, ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฎ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ, ๐˜˜ ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜š๐˜ข๐˜ฎ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ต ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฅ๐˜บ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ด ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ.

๐™’๐™ž๐™ก๐™ก ๐™ฉ๐™๐™š ๐™จ๐™ฉ๐™ง๐™ช๐™œ๐™œ๐™ก๐™š ๐™›๐™ค๐™ง ๐™ช๐™ก๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™ข๐™–๐™ฉ๐™š ๐™˜๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™ฉ๐™ง๐™ค๐™ก ๐™ก๐™š๐™–๐™™ ๐™ฉ๐™๐™š๐™ข ๐™—๐™ค๐™ฉ๐™ ๐™ฉ๐™ค ๐™›๐™–๐™ž๐™ก, ๐™ค๐™ง ๐™˜๐™–๐™ฃ ๐™ฉ๐™๐™š๐™ฎ ๐™–๐™˜๐™š ๐™ฉ๐™๐™ž๐™จ ๐™˜๐™ก๐™–๐™จ๐™จ ๐™–๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™š๐™ข๐™—๐™ง๐™–๐™˜๐™š ๐™– ๐™›๐™ช๐™ฉ๐™ช๐™ง๐™š ๐™ฉ๐™ค๐™œ๐™š๐™ฉ๐™๐™š๐™ง?

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Sam

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap.

It wasnโ€™t like no one had ever asked her to scene before, but sheโ€™d never had someone she was actually interested in ask her to scene. All her other scenes had been platonic, or theyโ€™d agreed to use toys or whatever. From the heat in Qโ€™s eyes as he looked down at her, she didnโ€™t doubt for one moment that he was asking her because he wanted her. Not just someone to scene with, but her specifically.

As if coming up to ask her when she was surrounded by a bunch of willing, attractive, single subs hadnโ€™t indicated that already. Heโ€™d chosen her. It was a little like being singled out from the herd by a predator, except she actually wanted it.

Especially with the authoritative way he said he would be in charge tonight.

Being honest, as much as she was looking forward to having Q on his knees for her in class, sheโ€™d also fantasized about having him take control ever since sheโ€™d walked into Marquis and seen him for the first time.

โ€œSay yes,โ€ Morgan hissed in her ear, nudging her with her elbow.

Sam glanced at Noelle. She didnโ€™t want to just ditch the other woman, but Noelle grinned and nodded.

Well, okay then.

โ€œIf youโ€™ll excuse me,โ€ she said, glancing around at the others. Caroline had a pinched expression as she nodded back, but Marissa gave her a thumbs up, and Amy made a little shooing motion, her eyes alight with encouragement. No one but Caroline seemed to mind, and, wellโ€ฆ Caroline wasnโ€™t Samโ€™s problem.

Taking Qโ€™s hand, she let him help her up from her chair. To her surprise, he didnโ€™t let go once she was standing, holding onto it as he led them toward the stairs.

โ€œUpstairs or downstairs?โ€ he asked, glancing at her.

โ€œCan we even get a room upstairs?โ€ she asked, bemused. It was a Saturday night after all. If you wanted a room, you had to plan ahead. Waitโ€ฆ had he planned ahead for this?

โ€œNo. Downstairs it is.โ€ Q grimaced, but Sam didnโ€™t mind.

If heโ€™d planned ahead, she might not have felt as special since he could have just been looking to use the room and not necessarily with her. The spontaneity of his invitation made her feel on top of the world. He wasnโ€™t just looking for a sub to fill a slot.

He wanted her.

Even after everything theyโ€™d talked about on Monday, even hearing the reason sheโ€™d changed her mind about prom. Even after he hadnโ€™t kissed her goodbye when sheโ€™d thought he was going to. Maybe heโ€™d just needed a little more time to think about everything.

Regardless, tonight, he was asking her to scene with him.

Yes, that made her feel giddy.

โ€œAny hard limits I should know about?โ€ he asked, giving her fingers a small squeeze as they went down the steps, drawing her attention back to the present.

โ€œIโ€™ve seen your list, and all of mine are covered by it,โ€ she replied, giving him a sideways smile. โ€œWhen it comes to humiliation, I donโ€™t mind being called a naughty, bad girl, or a toy, but Iโ€™ve got way more of a praise kink.โ€

โ€œMe, too.โ€ Q winked at her, making her laugh. Yeah, she could see that about both of them. With the way they worked to excel in high school, both of them liked getting rewards more than punishments.

Although Sam didnโ€™t mind a little role play now and then.

The staircase emptied out into the dungeon, which was full of people, though not everyone was doing something. Some people were just walking around and watching the scenes rather than participating.

Strongholdโ€™s dungeon was full of possible places to scene. Spanking benches were arranged throughout the center of the main floor. Along the walls were various nooks with chains hanging or occupied by St. Andrewsโ€™ crosses. A quiet nook was filled with couches, a mini fridge, and a basket of blankets for aftercare. And, of course, there were the private rooms, which were all occupied.

Interrogation, the Doctorโ€™s Office, and the Jail were located on this floor. The second floor had more options, like a Locker Room, a movie room, a school room, an office, and things like that. One day, Sam would love to use a private room, here or at Marquis, with someone who had reserved the room with her in mind. Not when it was part of the class, because that didnโ€™t count.

โ€œHow do you feel about a little spanking?โ€ Q asked, his steps slowing as he took in the benches. They were spaced far enough apart to avoid feeling crowded, and there were a few that were currently open. A club submissive was wiping down the closest one to them.

โ€œHave I been naughty?โ€ she asked flirtatiously.

They came to a halt, Q turning to face her, but never relinquishing her hand.

โ€œWell, you were never properly punished for leaving me without a prom date.โ€ His voice had turned to a low, husky growl, but his eyes simmered with heat and promise. Guilt threatened, but when he was looking at her like that, she knew he didnโ€™t really mean it.

This was going to be a funishment. Role play. Though she probably did deserve a spanking.

Widening her eyes, she tilted her head. With the heels she was wearing, they were basically the same height, so it was no trouble to meet his gaze.

โ€œOh, youโ€™re rightโ€ฆ Iโ€™m so sorry, Master Q.โ€ She made her voice syrupy sweet, which had the added effect of making her sound entirely insincere.

His lips quirked.

โ€œYouโ€™re certainly going to be Ms. Dupre.โ€

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Read the FIRST CHAPTER today!

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Jen-2

Golden Angel is a USA Today best-selling author and self-described bibliophile with a “kinky” bent who loves to write stories for the characters in her head. If she didn’t get them out, she’s pretty sure she’d go just a little crazy.

She is happily married, old enough to know better but still too young to care, and a big fan of happily-ever-afters, strong heroes and heroines, and sizzling chemistry.

When she’s not writing, she can often be found on the couch reading, in front of her sewing machine making a new cosplay, hanging out with her friends, or wandering the Maryland Renaissance Fair.

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