Best Seller by Delta James





Chapter 1





The next two days were spent wrapped in the sensual cocoon Fergus wove around me. Over and over again, he reached for me, drawing me under him before mounting me and tapping into my deeply hedonistic nature. Several times, I had been confronted by the alpha knot at the base of his cock, but each time he had suppressed it. It was an angry, fearsome thing, and I knew if he forced it inside me, I would be split asunder.

I was sleeping, sprawled across his body, when he maneuvered me onto my back, growling low and seductively. My body had come to respond in a very visceral way. Fergus’ mouth descended onto mine, capturing it as he surged forward. I was unprepared for the sharp pain as the strength of his thrust forced the unrepressed knot up inside me. I screamed into his mouth as my pussy tightened around him in a new way.

He held me tight, preventing evasion on my part, then stilled. My pussy clamped down as he kissed me and murmured words of love and encouragement. How could he talk of love to me? I feared I had lost myself to him, wanting to believe, but I knew better. I was merely one of the spoils of war. My sheath began to relax and accommodate his knot…





The buzzer from the front gate to her rambling mansion on North Carolina’s Outer Banks interrupted her stream of thought.

“Shit!” she groaned, picking up her cell phone and pulling up the app.

Her publisher, Gail Vincent, was looking in the camera with a pinched look on her face. Gail often had a sour expression. She glanced at the antique mantle clock on her desk. And shit again! It was only eight in the morning.

Sage Matthews answered her cell, an embarrassed smile on her face. “Hi, Gail. Uhm… I’m not ready.”

“I figured.” Gail fussed, not able to hide the roll of her eyes. “That’s why I came early. Did you look at the things I sent over?”

“Well, uhm, no…”

“For God’s sake, Sage, open the damn gate. You seriously need a keeper—someone who stays out here and takes care of you.”

“I have a housekeeper. Selma comes in once a week with her husband, Jerry. She cleans the inside while he does the outside,” she said, pressing the button that would open the gate.

“Why on earth did you have to move to the middle of fucking nowhere? Why not stay in D.C., maybe get a place in Georgetown? Or Chicago? You always like it when we go to Chicago. Better yet, a nice loft here in New York maybe either in SoHo or Tribeca.”

“I like my house, Gail. It’s quiet, I can ramble around, and if I want to play music and dance around naked at three in the morning, there’s no one to tell me no. I even have a private beach.”

“That you won’t let me take advantage of and throw an exclusive party. If you’re going to have the damn thing, you should at least make use of it for your business. On my way…” Gail said as she drove her rented Mercedes up the drive.

Sage saved her paranormal novel and pulled up the latest Roark Samuels.

They were back in the beach cottage in Monaco. There were no more kidnappers or assassins… just Melinda in a summery dress outside the glittering international Mecca known as Monte Carlo. Earlier in the day, Roark Samuels had killed the two assassins sent to dispose of the beautiful heiress. It was time she learned the consequences of not following orders… specifically his. Roark grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her over his muscular thighs. Pinning her in place with one hand, he pressed her shoulder blades down. Using his other, he rucked up the light, flimsy summer frock she was wearing, then caressed her shapely, ivory bottom.

Raising his hand, he brought it crashing down on her upturned backside. Melinda yowled and cursed at him, but Roark was enjoying what he was quite certain was a long, overdue punishment for her actions. Over and over, he spanked her rapidly-coloring globes and could feel her cool skin beginning to heat from his harsh strikes.

“Such a pretty bottom. Shame it has to get turned a bright shade of red because you couldn’t do what you were told. When I get done with your spanking, it’s going to feel really good when I’m pumping my hips into it as I give you a good, hard fucking.”

“Roark, you bastard, let me go!” she cried.

“Now, now, Melinda. Good girls accept their punishment when they’ve been naughty. Running away from home, then getting us into this situation, definitely qualifies as naughty.”

With that admonishment, Roark continued to inflict a considerable amount of pain across her backside. Silence, except for the sound of his hand spanking her ass and the constant roar of the surf outside, filled the room. The longer and harder he spanked her, the stiffer his cock became. Melinda needed this spanking almost as much as he needed to give it to her.