RUIN ME

“What are you up to, Abs?”

I smile at her coyly. “Whatever do you mean, Meg?”

She shakes her head and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll talk to you later.” Sliding in the cab, she gives me one last glance before the car drives away.

I walk up Hanover a few blocks, the bright burn of the neon sign outside his tattoo shop coming into view. Not sure what I’m doing, I open the front door without hesitation, entering the warmth inside. For an instant, I stand there second-guessing my decision. Then, Jamison’s deliciously masculine voice says my name, “Abby?”

My eyes float up to his, unique and questioning.

I want to say something clever, witty, charming, but all that comes out is, “Hello,” in a breathy voice.

Oh, that’s genius.

“Hi,” he says, a ghost of a smile cracking the perpetual hard line of his lips. “Why are you here?”

I forgot to think of a reason. I can’t tell him I stopped by because I missed him. That would be strange.

“To thank you for what you did for me.”

“It’s not necessary.” He smiles sympathetically as if he were saying ‘You crazy woman, leave me be.’ “Have a good night, Abby.” He walks into one of the tattoo rooms, disappearing behind a blue velvet curtain.

If I were smart, I would walk right out the door and stop bothering the poor guy. Instead, I follow him back. I guess I’m not smart. When he hears the curtain open, he glances over his shoulder, bewildered. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I,” I want you to take me right here on the table. I want you to ruin me, “was hoping you’d take a peek at my tattoo, make sure it’s healing alright.”

He seems to break a little, nodding. “Sure.”

While he parks his presumably fine ass on a stool, I take off my jacket, position myself in front of him, turning my hip toward him, and lift the hem of my dress, the thorny vine peeking out. He chokes down a gulp when he notices I’m not wearing any panties. I haven’t been able to since I got the thing where the strap normally sits.

“Um,” he stutters, skimming his fingertips over the exposed area. They’re electric. “Have you been cleaning it like I instructed?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Well, everything looks better than expected,” he assures me. “It appears you’re almost fully healed.”

“Thanks for taking a look,” I utter.

“You’re welcome,” he replies.

I wait for him to remove his hands, but he doesn’t.

“I should leave,” I state, internally praying something miraculous occurs to keep me here with him, a massive snowstorm, a citywide blackout, a divine intervention.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his fingers digging into my hips, “you should.”

Feeling off-kilter, I watch him fixedly, my eyelids like lead from his touch. It’s dizzying—really dizzying.

He stares up at me with a knitted brow, concern in his mismatched eyes. “Abby,” he says, but it sounds warped.

I don’t feel very—

Jamison

AVAILABLE NOW

THE BRIDE & THE BACHELOR

“I apologize for being nothing but a burden to you.”

  “Truthfully,” he says, his warm breath brushing against the top of my head, “you’ve been a nice distraction.”

  Goose bumps freckle my skin.

  Speaking of distracting, the way his body molds to mine is doing a very good job.

  “Do you love your ex-girlfriend?” If that question was made of metal, it would be brass. It’s not my business. But it’s out there, looming over us. No taking it back.

  “I thought I did.” He pauses on a breath. “Do you love him? Your…”

  “I thought I did.”

  He’s got the itch to ask me if that’s why I ran. I sense it in the way his muscles tighten and still. That’s what I’d want to know if I were him. And I scratch.

  “He did something unforgiveable.”

    He eases.

  “You don’t have to explain more. Not tonight.” His hand runs across my back. It’s comforting. “But, don’t you have anyone looking for you?”

  “I doubt it.” It’s not entirely true. I’m sure Shaw is wondering where I went. In his eyes, he owns me. I’m sure my parents are looking for me. The campaign fund counts on it. I’m sure Shaw’s family is looking for me. They want their money’s worth. “I’m unloved, unappreciated, unwanted.”

  He clamps a supportive hand on my shoulder. I glance at it and then him, a sincerity on his face. “Maybe you are unappreciated. I can believe that. But there’s no fucking way you’re unwanted.”

  “You believe that, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  I cringe at those two simple words.

  “How could you?” I face away from him.

  But he brings my gaze back to his with a gentle coaxing of my chin. “Because I want you.”

  For reasons beyond me—alcohol, the need to feel desired, my attraction to him, D, all of the above—I lift my mouth to his, kissing him with every bit of energy I have after today. Surprisingly, it’s a lot. I mount him, continuing my desperate assault on his lips. He grasps his long fingers around my biceps, lifting me away from him. His eyes search for mine through the mess of black hair hanging around my face. His face tenses as he fights himself. But I feel his want between my thighs.

  “I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he says, sincere concern in his expression. It makes me want him more.

  “I need this,” I do need this. I need to feel wanted, to feel want for someone else, even for a few minutes, “and you need this. It’s win win.”

  I’ve never slept around. Every man I’ve been with was a long-term boyfriend. But here I am, on my wedding night, ready to let a man inside me who is definitely not my husband. I don’t even know his last name.

  But I want to come in this man’s arms.

  I want it.

  I want him.

  “Use me,” I plead, my hips grinding into his cock, coming out of the slit in his bottoms.

  He sits up, taking me with him, and then stares straight into my eyes. He presses his palm to the back of my head and the other on my ass, holding me against him. Like I’d try to get away.

  “Fuck,” he breathes out, “you’re so beautiful.”

  His mouth moves in, kissing along my jaw and down my neck. He removes his hand and then the sound of a drawer opening fills the silent room. He continues kissing me, touching me, wanting me. His other arm moves from my ass to around my lower back, and he lifts me up. I hear the rip of a wrapper and the stretch of rubber as it expands over something hefty in size.

  “Greier,” I whisper, my hands finding his face, the roughness of his stubble under my fingertips. His fingers push my panties aside.

  “Reagan,” he moans against my collarbone, entering me.

BLACK MAGNOLIA 

(2.13.18)

© Lena Black 2017

BLACK MAGNOLIA PROLOGUE

Prologue

This isn’t a wedding, it’s a merger between two powerful families, coming together to form an unstoppable empire. This isn’t love, it’s business.

When I was informed I would marry Shaw, I didn’t bat an eyelash. We’d been ‘dating’ for over a year. Plus, I’d been raised with the understanding I was bred for ‘a greater purpose’. I was educated at the best private schools and learned about wifely behavior from my mother, all with the goal of being the perfect trophy wife. I’ve always done what my parents asked of me, without hesitation or question, and to the best of my abilities. Their happiness is important to me, even if it means mine isn’t. I’m willing to sacrifice it for the betterment of our family.

I’m a good daughter, a doting daughter, an obedient daughter.

My entire path in life has been planned and laid out before me. I’m sitting in the backseat of my own life, my parents at the wheel, while I watch the world flash past my window.

My father, a politician from Pennsylvania with his eye on the White House, made the arrangement with Shaw's father, a Louisiana businessman from old money, who wants a hand in the political game. My father wants his money. He wants my father’s influence.

Our marriage will be one of convenience and breeding, carrying on the name and bloodline. Rather than about needing to spend our lives together, not being able to live our lives without the other by our side. It’s all very technical, mechanical, methodical.

I’m in front of the vanity, in the bridal suite of an opulent manor in the heart of the Garden District. My hair is done and impeccable, not a strand out of place. Like my life pretends to be. My makeup is camera ready, a mask to hide my pain. My dress is elegant and expensive, designer, of course. Just like my husband-to-be.

Over the past year and a half, I convinced my heart I love Shaw because I had to. In some faint way, I do. Or I’ve fooled myself into believing I do.

It doesn’t matter though. Minutes from now, I’ll be his wife…whether I want it or not.

Black Magnolia 

Lena Black

AVAILABLE FEB. 13, 2018

A DOMINANT SALVATION PAPERBACK AVAILABLE NOW

A Dominant Salvation Paperback now available on Amazon and Createspace, an Amazon company. 

Meet Master D

The overjoyed shock in her eyes told me everything I needed to know. She wanted me, too.

“You…want me?” she asked, sinking onto the couch beside me.

“Yes, wasn’t that obvious? I wouldn’t have felt the need to explain if I didn’t.”

“I guess I’d thought you just saw me as a friend.”

“Why? Because I haven’t attempted to fuck you?” She shrugged and nodded her head. “Women have become so jaded. Why must I bed you, for you to believe I desire you? I respect you and want more than to screw your brains out. Don’t misunderstand, I will. However, I’m not going to rush anything. I’m not a one-night stand kind of guy.”

“I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl.”

“I never thought you were.” I smirked at her, taking her small hand resting on her thigh. “I want to see where this goes.”

“Me too,” she murmured, gripping onto my hand, and leaned in to kiss me tenderly on the cheek.

I gave her a quick once-over, taking a moment to really drink her in, and noticed the top of her robe had begun to open just enough for a glimpse inside. I knew it wasn’t very gentlemanly, but I’m only a man.

Peeking out from the slackened opening were her breasts, just enough for a handful, with the rosy buds that turned skyward. They were the kind of nipples that you latch your mouth onto as she rides you hard.

That stunning being exuded sex, fuckable from head to toe. But, the sexiest thing about her, she didn’t realize how fucking desirable she truly was. Whether it was her blue, almond-shaped eyes, or the softness of her alabaster skin, or her lush chestnut hair, everything about her drew me toward her like a tractor beam. And those lips. Those begging-to-be-fucked lips. I wanted them. I wanted to own them, devour them, slip between them.

She licked them from corner to corner, moistening them. That was fucking it.

I yanked her onto my lap. Without hesitation, she shifted, straddling my legs with hers. I clutched a hand at the base of her neck, hers were gripping my shoulders. I stared into her eyes, and she stared right back into mine.

She purred, “Hello, stranger.”

I smiled and tucked a loose chunk of hair behind her ear with my free hand, moving it out of the way of her lust-hooded eyes.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” I stated in a low voice, my lips moving towards hers.

“I’m going to let you,” she whispered before our lips met.

- MASTER'D

Are You Ready For Salvation?

Once we signed on the dotted line, and I managed to convince Elle to join me for lunch, we headed out. The car ride to the restaurant was tense. It wasn’t because of her. At least, not for anything she was doing. It was me. I was insane for taking the daughter of my business partner and friend out, even for a platonic lunch.

Platonic, yeah. There was nothing platonic about my plans for her. I wanted her in every way a depraved man like me could want her. Flashes of her lace-covered breasts and thighs poking out from her work attire kept reminding me of my intentions. She was tempting me even in the car, her fragile hand placed between us since we left, her shapely legs crossed and leaning toward mine, the way her hourglass curves filled out her blouse and skirt.

“I’m pleased you walked into the meeting,” I remarked emotionlessly, attempting to appear in control outwardly and subdue myself inwardly.

“Yeah, you seem it,” she snapped.

I couldn’t blame her. I knew my actions were confusing.

“I am, but I know this is wrong.”

“What’s wrong?”

“This. You and I, us, together.”

“I wasn’t aware we were together. If it’s a problem, why invite me to go to lunch?” she asked with an affronted tone.

It was a simple yet damning question. And the answer was clear. Even though I was bound by a promise, I couldn’t stay away. I wanted to be near her. I wanted her scent in my nose. I wanted to admire her beautiful face in the flesh, not frozen in the captured moments hung across her parents’ home. I wanted her, which is why I kept an emotional wall between us. I couldn’t get close. And I couldn’t be candid about my intentions either. So, I told her a shade of the truth.

“I have an opportunity, and I plan to take it. I should keep my distance from you, but I find it difficult. You’re a good girl, and I don’t want to take advantage of your…respectabilities.”

“You need not be concerned with my respectabilities.” 

A DOMINANT SALVATION 

Saving Mr. Hunt

“As terrible as it all was, Damian, it’s what made us strong enough to handle everything that’s happened since. I think if we didn’t experience its hardship, we’d crumble now. We’re survivors, Damian, not victims.”

He places his forehead against my lips, his eyes shut tightly. He lets out a shaky breath. I know he’s fighting back his emotions. He always tries to be a rock for me, but under the weight of time, even rocks can crumble. It’s only a matter of time.

“You’re so much stronger than I am,” he murmurs.

My heart melts into a puddle of emotion. Here, my husband, my pillar of strength, my protector, revealing the kinks in his armor.

Knowing how it calms him, I comb my fingers through his hair, kissing him across his face.

“I want to be your strength, Damian.” My lips hover over his now. “I want to be your salvation.”

He exhales the breath he’s been holding into my mouth, breathing life into my lungs. He is the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins. He is my entire existence, and I’m desperately happy to give it all to him.

Saying the words I didn’t know I needed to hear, “I’ll love you until the end of eternity,” I take his mouth onto mine, lifting myself onto the tip of his swollen head.

I let him take refuge in my body, harboring him in the depths of my womb.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Hunt! (EXCERPT)

I’d planned Hunt’s Birthday, wanting to do something amazing for him, but it couldn’t have gone worse if I’d planned it…

I had woken him with breakfast in bed, but when his eyes opened, I could see he wasn’t in a good mood. He choked down his breakfast almost reluctantly, as if he were only doing it for my sake. I knew something was really wrong then. He loved my cooking, devoured every bite as if it was his first and last meal.

I shook it off. I was hell-bent on making it a wonderful day for him, to change it from a day of mourning his parents’ deaths to a day of celebrating his life.

While we were in the shower, I gave him his first birthday present, my hungry mouth wrapped about his cock. Though he enjoyed it, he seemed distant.

I’d begged him to stay home with me, but he insisted on going into the office. Even though it hurt me, I understood he needed time to lose himself in work. It also gave me time to put the finishing touches on my plans. I asked him not to work late and he promised he wouldn’t. With that, he left me, and I set out on my day.

I had spent it thinking about him and running errands. I wanted everything to be perfect. No detail left undone.

Later that evening, when everything was ready, Liam called to let me know they were about to arrive home. Everyone hid behind couches and chairs, anywhere they could find, dressed in their costumes, giggling to each other. When we heard the elevator open, the lights came on and everyone jumped up to yell, “Surprise!”

The look on his face was devastating. His jaw was clenched and his mouth was in a sharp line, brows furrowed, face a vibrant red. He stared me down with a look I’ve never seen from him before, as if I’d betrayed him. He turned without a word and got back in the elevator. Just as the doors were about to shut, I slid in next to him.

He didn’t look at me or acknowledge my presence. It had killed me.

“Would you please say something?” I pleaded with him.

“What do you want me to say?” His eyes remained on the elevator doors.

“Why did you leave?”

He whipped around, pinning me against the wall. “Why the fuck did you do this, Gabrielle? You know I hate my birthday, you know it brings me nothing but pain. Why would you think I’d want to celebrate that?”

“I was hoping I could change it for you, make it a day of happiness. I see this as a day to celebrate…It was the day you came into this world, the day that started your journey toward me. I think that’s worth celebrating.”

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, pushing away from me.

“I can’t do this right now,” he murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t be here.”

“Where are you going to go?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Damian, don’t be this way. Please. I love you. I want to spend your birthday with you.”

The doors opened into the underground garage and he stepped out. “I’ll be home later.”

I stood there, watching him walk away, too scared to go after him.

Later, well after two, he finally came home, smelling of expensive whiskey and cigar smoke. I could smell it across the room. I’d pretended I was asleep as he undressed and headed to the shower to rinse some of the stink off him. When he was done, he came to bed and crawled in behind me. He scooped his arm about my waist and brings me into his very naked body, squeezing me.

He kissed me on the neck tenderly and whispered, “I’m sorry, angel. I’m sorry I’m so fucked up.”

I turned to him, shifting in his grasp.

“I know you’re sorry. But you aren’t fucked up. You’re wonderful, flaws and all.”

“I still miss them, Elle. I would give anything to have them back.”

He broke down, and I enfolded myself about him, holding his head against my chest. I held him until he cried himself out, falling asleep in my loving embrace.

I laid awake that night, replaying his words in my head. They broke my heart, because unlike so many, he had the means to back up his statement. He could obtain anything he desired, except the one thing he’d give it all up to have. It couldn’t be bought. And I couldn’t fix it. 

copyright © Lena Black

That Body

“I’ll never get enough of that body,” Damian says from behind me, startling me. He’s leaning on the frame of our bedroom door, his emerald eyes dull and fatigued.

“Slick,” I murmur with a saddened quiver.

“Don’t. I just want to get into that bath with you right now and forget.”

“I want that too,” I agree, knowing how devastated he must be, knowing my body is his sanctuary. 

copyright © Lena Black

Dangerous Curves

copyright © 2016 Lena Black

Hunt's Passion

The doors open directly into the two-story high, main living area. It’s breathtaking. It isn’t what I expected, which was a cold, modern, sterile environment, but this space is masculine and cozy, inviting me to stay awhile. The walls are painted a dark shade of gray, with black and white photos of landmarks around San Francisco and the world, adorning them. They contain a depth and beauty that captures the photographer’s view of the world. They are truly exceptional.

A DOMINANT MAN

A DOMINANT MAN

© 2014 Lena Black

The Women of Hunt

The following Friday, Damian leaves for a conference in San Diego. Saturday, I pick up Brooke. She seems tense the whole ride. She taps her leg and clenches the handle on the door. She’s usually confident and cool. She holds her head up high and looks you right in the eye. But the person sitting next to me is a mess, a little girl with serious confidence issues.

“You’re going to be fine,” I assure her.

“That’s easy for you to say.”

“Trust me.”

“How did I let you talk me into this?”

“I know…And you’re a lawyer. I must’ve made one hell of an argument.”

“If I didn’t love you and Damian so much I would never consider doing this in a million damn years. I’d be safer sticking my head in an alligator’s mouth.”

“I think you’re being dramatic.”

We pull up to the beautiful Victorian and get out. Brooke hesitates on the wet sidewalk, her hands clasped in front of her. She’s staring down at her heeled feet. I’ve never seen her like this before. She’s so submissive. I slide my arm through hers, giving it an assuring squeeze. She nods when she’s ready. I lead her to the door and ring the bell twice.

“This is a crazy idea,” she comments before the door opens and Marlena appears looking like business in her onyx suit. She isn’t wearing a camisole under the jacket, her impressive cleavage peeking out of the top. She’s all sex and Dominant bravado.

“Hello, kitten,” she purrs, giving me the fuck me eyes she has down to a science.

“Hello, Marlena,” I greet her.

Her eyes move to Brooke standing so close to me, you’d swear we were Siamese twins.

“You’re looking well, Miss Evans.” She smiles at her.

I think Brooke is unsure of her authenticity, but smiles tightly back at her.

“Hello.”

She straightens out her shoulders and lifts her head up high, retaining the Brooke I know and love.

“Please, come in.”

copyright © Lena Black

F*ck It Out...

“If you aren’t going to willingly talk to me, I’m going to fuck it out of you.” He ties something about my wrists, binding them together and leaving me powerless against him. Not that he needs restraints to do it.

His hand clasps onto the back of my neck, holding me in place, while his other hand roams my thighs and rear. His thumb slides along my crack and grazes my tight pucker. When I moan and shove my ass back into his hand, I’m finally rewarded with a firm smack, dead center, catching both cheeks and my aroused slit.

He leans over me, his weight pressing into my back. “Don’t move,” he snarls into my ear.

“Yes, Mr. Hunt.”

“Good girl,” he praises, plunging his thumb into my ass. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you?”

“You should know,” I snap, still angry about his lies and now his effect on me. “You know everything, don’t you?”

“Oh, Gabrielle, wrong fucking answer.” Suddenly, the plump head of his cock parts my saturated lips, gliding up and down my sex, spreading my wetness, heightening my arousal. It teases my clit, forcing me to spasm and groan. He lines himself up with my constricting entrance, taunting me with his presence.

“Are you going to be a good girl and tell me why you’re upset? Or, are you going to be a wicked little thing and make me torture this sweet cunt until you beg?”

“I don’t…know,” I pant.

“Unacceptable,” he growls, slapping me across both cheeks and slamming himself balls deep only to extract himself again. “Come on, Elle. Stop fighting it.”

I struggle with my restraint and snap my legs shut. This is not what he wants. His hand comes down on each cheek swiftly, and his legs spread mine back apart, pinning them open. He pumps a few shallow thrusts, twisting his hand in my hair and roughly yanking it back so my head flies up and my back arcs violently. His other hand slithers about my waist and down to my throbbing apex, cupping it in his palm. “When will you learn, I own this…? I own you, body, mind, soul.”

His finger dips between my plump lips, slowly rubbing my clit with concentrated precision, building me up, only to stop when pleasure begins to take me. He repeats this torturous act repeatedly before the ache in my womb overwhelms me and I scream out, “You lied to me!”

He pauses and whispers into my ear, “What did I lie about, angel?”

I shut my mouth tight and shake my head, still angry that he has this effect on me. He presses my body back against the island, holding my neck and teasing my hard clit again. 

I can’t fight him anymore, and I utter only one word, but it says it all, “Marlena.”

“That’s my girl,” he purrs, petting the side of my face while my head lies on the cold surface, intensified by the sweltering warmth of my sweat glistened skin. “We will discuss this later. Now, I fuck you.”

copyright © 2014 Lena Black

A Dominant Ending

It ends on the day it all began...

SPANK

“I want to cum fucking you.” He picks me off the floor and tosses me back on the bed. “How do you want me?”

I ogle up at him in confusion.

“Do you want it rough or soft?” he clarifies.

“Damian or Hunt? I choose Hunt.”

He cocks his head to the side. It’s pretty fucking cute. 

“What do you mean Damian or Hunt?”

“Damian is my lover, but Hunt is my master.” His head still tilted, he shoots me a sweet grin.

“Hunt it is, Hyde.” He saunters over to his black duffle bag, extracting a blindfold and the black leather belt with his initials delicately engraved on the buckle. “Would you like me to spank you with this?”

The muscles in my lower abdomen clench superbly.

“Yes, Mr. Hunt.”

“That’s my girl.”

copyright © 2014 Lena Black