Lanie
It was the eve of the second anniversary of the day my life had been turned upside down, inside out, and spun round and round, sending me in a new direction. Two years since the day I had put myself up for auction in a nightclub called Foreplay that traded women to men of wealth and power in exchange for a hefty payment.
The other women in my group had done it for their own reasons. I had done it to save a life. My mother’s life, to be specific.
Two million dollars was what I’d gone for. Auctioned off to the highest bidder, Noah Patrick Crawford, CEO of Scarlet Lotus. He would own me for two years, use me to satisfy his every sexual need as he saw fit.
That man would teach me how to suck a cock properly. That man would give me the first of many orgasms, introduce me to my inner Cooch—and she to the King of Fingerf*ck, the Ridonkabutt, the Assterpiece, the Wonder Peen. That man would pop my cherry, turn me into a wanton hussy, and rock my ever-loving world. That man would infuriate me to no end—in and out of the bedroom—and then ride in on his white horse to save the day.
That man was now my husband.
And the father to our daughter, Scarlett Faye Crawford.
Scarlett was the apple of her daddy’s eye. She’d been born less than a year after we married. In fact, I had been pregnant with her at our wedding ceremony and hadn’t even known it. I was certain I had conceived our daughter the night Noah gave me my engagement ring.
His mother’s ring.
That night will be forever etched in my mind, its perfection so blindingly glorious in every way. He had offered the precious diamond to me as well as his heart, his everything. He belonged to me, and I belonged to him.
Surrounded by the walls of my dream cottage—the house I’d secretly coveted as a child—our life had begun anew. We’d whispered our desires and our dreams, and yeah, we’d made love like there was no tomorrow. It was hot. It was magical. It was perfect.
He had told me that night that he wanted lots and lots of babies. And I was more than happy to oblige. Scarlett was the first of many more to come.
Yes, she was spoiled. She had everything imaginable—clothes, toys, books—and lacked for nothing. But more important than all of those materialistic things, she was loved. Loved by people who doted on her every whim, every fancy.
She had almond-shaped eyes the color of precious sapphires framed by lush dark eyelashes. Creamy soft skin to sprinkle our kisses on, thick chocolate ringlets that begged to be brushed and adorned with bows and ribbons, and a smile that could make the masses bow at her feet. We were all under her spell from the moment she took her very first breath.
But Scarlett was a daddy’s girl through and through.
Don’t get me wrong—she loved her mommy, but Daddy was the hero in her book. She was wrapped around his little finger, and he was wrapped equally as tight around hers. So was my father, Mack. I couldn’t even begin to tell you about the jealousy that raged between those two over her attentions. Mack was her Pappy and threatened to sue for grandparent visitation rights one weekend when Noah had “thoughtlessly” planned to take Scarlett to the same toy store that he wanted to take her to without first checking with him to see if he ever had any intentions of doing so.
Confusing? Yeah, I thought so, too.
It was ridiculous how they fought over the child. Always trying to one-up each other in the gifts they bestowed upon her or places they took her. I was pretty sure Mack would even have taken out a second mortgage on my childhood home in an attempt to keep up with Noah’s abundant wealth.
Eventually the rest of our family and I had decided an intervention was in order. That had been a week ago. I mean, seriously, Scarlett had enough love in her tiny, fist-sized heart to go around, and it wasn’t fair for them to constantly put her in the middle. Auntie Dez, Gammy, Aunt Polly, and I had left with her for the week to go visit Aunt Lexi and Uncle Brad in New York, leaving Daddy and Pappy to stew at home by themselves. They’d needed the time-out.
The week we’d spent in New York was fun, but I’d missed my husband. And, okay, I’d missed his many assets as well. I wasn’t talking about his ridiculous fortune, either. Loaded down with yet more goodies for Scarlett and a new wardrobe for myself—Polly, Dez, and Lexi; need I say more?—we headed home.
By the time we returned, Noah and my father had bonded through their mutual misery over Scarlett’s absence. As for me, what was I? Chopped liver?
But my pique lasted just a few moments. After a brief greeting and many repetitions of Daddy missed you so much, Mack swiped Scarlett from my arms and ushered my mother out the door. She was theirs for the weekend.
And I was Noah’s.
No sooner had the door closed than I found my back pinned against it and a very eager husband pressed against the length of my body with his hands flattened out next to my head. His face was only inches from mine and I could feel the warmth of his breath as it fanned out over my face. Slowly his lips came closer to mine.
“Don’t ever f*cking do that to me again,” he said, and then his lips were on mine, fierce and demanding.
He wasn’t angry, not in the least bit. Just really, really horny and desperate for some release.
Um, yeah. Me too.
“I missed you so f*cking much,” he mumbled into my skin as he directed his attention to my neck.
The Cooch agreed. She’d missed him as well. In fact, I distinctly heard the sounds of some sort of bonchickawahwah music playing in the recesses of my mind. She was blowing the dust off her knee-high red leather boots and blue unitard, stopping momentarily to contemplate Noah’s black tie and those black wraparound heels we knew he was particularly fond of.
As if it mattered in the least.
His hand was under my skirt, cupping my already drenched center. His fingers stroked and probed as only those of a skilled King of Fingerf*ck could. The other hand was kneading my breast, rolling the hardened nipple between his thumb and finger. And that colossal cock was grinding against my hip.
The Cooch gave him a finger curl and a sultry whisper: Hey there, big boy. Why don’t you come on over here and we can talk about the first thing that pops up?
Double Agent Coochie was most definitely a hoochie.
As for me, on the other hand, I decided to play hard to get. During my pregnancy with Scarlett, our sex life had become somewhat vanilla. All because Noah was worried he’d hurt the baby or me somehow.
Anyway, once she was born, it just sort of remained that way out of habit, only there was less of it. Sure, we had stolen quickies and rushed releases in the shower, and none of which was any less mind-blowing, but that raging inferno of lust that we had shared at the beginning of our relationship had dimmed to a slow burn. I wasn’t complaining, but I missed the tit for tat, the challenge, the part where one of us said, Let me get you real good and pissed off and then f*ck the shit out of you so that you remember who owns you.
And I was going to get it back.
With as much conviction as I could muster, I shoved him in the chest, pushing him away. He looked up at me, confused and a little wounded. But I gave him a wink and what I hoped was a sexy smirk to clue him in on my game.
“Screw you, Noah! Do you know what tomorrow is?” I snapped.
Again with that confounded look.
“I can see you don’t, ass!” I said, lifting my chin indignantly as I stalked toward him. “It just so happens to be the two-year anniversary of the day we met. The day you bought me for two million dollars to be your sex slave so you could do whatever you wanted to me, however and wherever you wanted to do it, because you’re a sick bastard who gets off on dominating me for your own pleasure. You’ve loved forcing me to bow to your will, lording me into submission just because you had enough money to do it.”
I stood nose to nose with him—so to speak, since he was taller than me and all. My girls were pressed against his hard chest and the heat rolled off him in waves.
“Lanie, I—” he started, but I cut him off.
“My name is Delaine! You don’t get to call me Lanie!” I snapped.
And there it was, the lightbulb. I could see that he had gotten it at last, and judging by the arrogant smirk that spread across his face, he was game to play.
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back while cupping my ass and pulling me against him roughly.
“Well, if our little contract expires tomorrow, I guess I’d better make the most of my last night of ownership,” he said. My nipples strained against my shirt at the reemergence of Noah the sex god. “I must warn you, this won’t be nice. It’ll be hard and rough, but you will love every minute of it. And you will do as I say because I own every inch of your body. Your f*ckable mouth, your tight little p-ssy, your forbidden ass—they all belong to me, and I will f*ck them how I see fit, if I see fit to do so. You are here for my pleasure, just as I am here for yours. Have I made myself clear?”
“Quite,” I snarled back at him. “Let go of me! I hate you.”
“Yes, but you love the way I f*ck, don’t you?” It wasn’t a question. More like a statement of fact.
He released the hold he had on my hair and took a step back. “On your knees, Delaine.” He tugged on his belt buckle. “I’ve had a very trying day and I’m in need of the stress management that I know you give all too well.”
“Here? In the foyer?” I asked.
He shot a hard look at me, lifting his eyebrow as if to say I had some nerve to question him. “Did I stutter?”
The Cooch gave me a mental high-five, and then she pulled out her mini DVD recorder and started filming, yelling, “Quiet on the set! Action!”
In one swift movement, Noah had shoved me to my knees and the colossal cock was sprung from its prison and waving a long-time-no-sucky-sucky at me. And I was pretty sure that was a tear on the slit of his head.
By all means, let me kiss that tear away, Your Colossalness. After all, big boys aren’t supposed to cry, and my oh my, you are big.
Noah let out a hiss when my tongue came out and swept up the drop of pre-come on his tip. The corners of my mouth twitched triumphantly, and I proceeded with my torture. I gave him an openmouthed kiss, and then let out a greedy little moan as my lips wrapped around his head and I sucked hard.
“F*cking shit, goddamnit,” he growled, yanking my head away by my hair.
I would be lucky if I wasn’t bald by the time he was done with me.
He looked down at me, his voice deep and husky. “Oh, you want to play dirty, do you? I can do dirty.” His words slithered through the air and lapped at the sensitive spot between my thighs like a serpent’s tongue. “Seems you need a little reminder of who’s in control here, Delaine.”
He grabbed the base of his dick with his free hand and bent at the knees to push the head past my lips. “Stay just like that,” he ordered. “I’m doing the f*cking here. You do the sucking.”
Holding on to my head with both hands, he started thrusting in and out of my mouth, showing no mercy and pushing in as deep as the confines of my mouth would allow, which meant he was hitting the back of my throat. Truthfully, I was struggling to keep up. Noah’s cock hadn’t exactly shrunken over the last couple of years. My mouth was stretched open as far as it could go, but I still managed to apply some pressure with my lips, curling them in around my teeth to keep from shredding his glorious cock.
“Harder, Delaine. Suck me harder,” he ordered in a growl that shot straight to my girly bits and caused them to start doing a little tearing up of their own. Seriously, I needed a drip pan or something for all the basting the Cooch was doing.
His hips surged forward, hitting the back of my throat and giving me a little more than what I could comfortably take. I gagged, the motion causing my throat to tighten around the head of his dick. Noah shouted a string of profanities and pulled out of my mouth, yanking me up to my feet. His mouth came crashing down on mine in a ferocious kiss.
With the strength and speed of a superhuman, he threw me over his shoulder and took the stairs two at a time. He didn’t stop until he’d reached our bedroom, kicked the door open, and thrown me on the bed. Shoes and clothes went flying across the room as he undressed us both with urgency. And then my hips were lifted off the bed, my legs thrown over his shoulders, and my neck bent at an awkward angle as Noah’s face plunged between my thighs—right where I wanted it.
“Oh, God!” I cried out at the feel of his lips, tongue, teeth. He was eating me alive, and it was the most delicious feeling in the world.
His fingers spread my folds open, the fleshy pink of my hidden treasures exposed as the pads of his fingers worked my * in circular motions. It was an erotic performance of his extreme capabilities, and I had a front-row seat to the show. I saw and felt his tongue push into my opening, long and thick as he stroked me from the inside out. Then his fingers smacked at my pleasure nub, spanking it in quick succession with the perfect amount of force.
“Noah … please,” I begged, squirming as much as I could given his crushing hold. I bucked my hips forward, wanting more, even though his face was completely buried in my p-ssy. He held my lips open and sucked at my *, his tongue making quick flicking motions over the hardened bud. Then he sucked my * into his mouth again, hard, pulled back on it, and let it go with a pop. Once again he sucked it in and pulled back excruciatingly slowly before letting it go and eyeing it while licking his lips.
“Your p-ssy is the sweetest in the world, Delaine. And it’s mine!”
I loved his possessive nature, but keeping in character, I felt it necessary to remind him of one thing. “Just until tomorrow, a*shole,” I said, my voice dripping of defiance.
Noah bared his teeth and growled at me, his face contorted in anger—he was an exceptional actor. None too gently, he lifted me from the bed and pinned me against the wall with his body.
His lips were at my ear, hot breath panting heavily. “You’ll be banging down my door within two days, begging for my cock,” he said while gripping my ass and lifting me off the floor.
“Not bloody likely,” I seethed back even as I wrapped my legs around him.
In retaliation, Noah sank his teeth into the tender flesh where my neck met my shoulder. Hard and unforgiving, he thrust his hips forward and entered me.
I cried out in pleasure, throwing my head back against the wall. My face scrunched up and I clenched my teeth, welcoming the raw, primal feeling. It was exactly what I wanted, what I needed.
“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he said with a smirk as he wound my hair around one hand and held me with the other. He pulled out and slammed back into me, the force of his thrust pushing me up the wall with a jerk.
“You f*cking love my cock,” he snarled, punctuating each word with a rigid plunge that went deeper and deeper inside me. “You can try to deny it all you want, but you and I both know I own that p-ssy, Delaine.”
I dug my nails into his back, holding him to me as the power from his thrusts drove me up the wall and back down again. I buried my lips into the crook of his neck, sucking and tasting the salty sweat of his passion mixed with fury.
This was my Noah. This was the man who could drive me to the brink of insanity and then yank me back before I had a chance to fall over the edge. And then he’d do it all over again until finally he let me go and I plunged into the stormy sea of orgasms that raged below the jagged cliff.
F*cking Noah was an extreme sport. And oh, what a rush it was.
I came, calling out his name as he grunted with each surge of his hips. And then my body was a wet noodle in his arms.
“I’m not done with you yet.” His voice was demanding, assertive. He pushed our entangled bodies from the wall and carried me over to the couch. That couch was where he’d first f*cked my mouth, and a montage of frames from that encounter flooded my thoughts: Noah standing over me, dominating, with one foot propped up on the couch while he pushed and pulled his cock in and out of my mouth.
The Cooch hit rewind and showed it to me all over again with a devilish smirk on her face.
He pulled out of me and flipped me over onto my stomach, his hand pressing down on the center of my lower back while the fingers of his other hand dipped inside me and curled in and out. Then he pulled them free, sliding the slick evidence of my orgasm through the valley that extended to my ass, entering and coating my other opening with the natural lubrication my own body secreted.
I was one hundred percent game, but I was also still very much in character. I shot death glares at him from over my shoulder and sneered, “Don’t you f*cking dare!” The shameless shift of my hips toward him was a complete contradiction to my words, so he knew what I really wanted.
“I told you, Delaine. I own every inch of your body, and I will have what I want,” he said as he moved his fingers in and out of the forbidden entrance. “And what I want right now”—he leaned forward until his lips were once again at my ear—“is to f*ck this tight ass.”
His voice softened a bit and he kissed my cheek. “Are you ready, kitten?” No amount of role play in the world would prevent him from making sure I was okay. My comfort level was always most important to him.
I nodded and arched my back, offering up what we both wanted.
“Good girl.” Slipping back into character, Noah rose back into his previous position and sank to one knee behind me while propping the other on the couch.
I felt the pressure of the head of his cock at my entrance and then he was inside me, pushing ever so carefully as he sheathed himself and moaned at the pleasure. Noah and I had done this many times since our first, usually only on special occasions, so it wasn’t nearly as painful as it had been the first time. In fact, it was really quite pleasurable.
I lifted myself up on one elbow and pushed back into him, but the pressure of his hand on my back stopped me from going any further. “Easy, woman. Always so eager.” I could hear the smirk in his voice, and his insistence of treating me like a fragile piece of china was grating on my nerves.
“Are you going to f*ck me, or are we going to stay here all day like two dogs knotted up?”
His hand came down hard on my ass with a loud smack and a tinge of pain. If he hadn’t been holding me in place, it could have been disastrous, considering the precarious position we were in.
“That was a warning, Delaine. Now hold still or I might decide not to be so easy with you.”
I turned my face into the armrest of the couch to hide my grin, because yeah, that was hot as sin.
Going back to his business, Noah spread the cheeks of my ass and I imagined the look of concentration that must have been on his face as he ogled the sight, trying for all his worth not to let his control slip. He pulled back a little bit only to roll his hips forward a fraction further than where he had been before. His groans and my moans intermingled in the air between us and had a little make-out party of their own. He repeated the movements until the muscles in my body, rigid at first, relaxed, giving him the cue he was waiting for before moving more freely.
“Goddamnit, that feels so good.” His voice was breathless, tightly controlled, as he moved in and out of my ass.
With one hand on my hip and the other slipping around to manipulate my *, his pace quickened. Deep, throaty grunts echoed throughout the room and his thrusts became more insistent. The sound of skin slapping skin joined in on the party, making an orgy out of our sexcapade, even though we were the only two invited. I was moaning and keening like a seasoned porn star, and the Cooch was getting it all on tape.
“Right there, kitten,” he groaned when he found an angle that was preferable.
But I was on the edge again, and even though I’d already come once, it just wasn’t right for him to dangle the proverbial carrot in front of my face without letting me have a little nip of it. “Don’t you dare stop,” I said, and Noah kept going, pinching my * between his fingers even as the telltale moans of his impending orgasm built in his chest.
“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t … stop …,” I called out as I came yet again.
I should have known he wouldn’t leave me hanging. That was not Noah Crawford’s style at all. He always satisfied.
I hadn’t even reached the peak of my orgasm before the rumble that had been percolating to the surface within Noah’s chest reached its boiling point, forced its way up his throat, and exploded from his lips in a string of profanities. His thrusts were uneven, jerky, and insistent as he held me immobile and used my body to milk himself dry of his semen.
My body, numb and devoid of energy, collapsed onto the couch. I struggled to catch my breath. Every muscle coiled in preparation when I felt Noah’s movement behind me and I knew he was about to pull out, which I never found to be all that pleasant. He made fast work of it, though, and then his body was covering mine. Always the attentive lover, he showered every inch of skin within the vicinity of his lips with chaste kisses.
“I really f*cking love you,” Noah said between gulps of air. “I’m so glad I didn’t bail out on that auction and leave you to Jabba the Hutt.”
I giggled and smacked at his bare thigh. He laughed at my halfhearted attempt.
“You were worth every penny I spent for you and more. Happy anniversary, Delaine.”
“Yeah, right back atcha,” I managed to say playfully between labored breaths.
Double Agent Coochie and the rest of her filming crew—the Assterpiece, Ridonkabutt, and the Wonder Peen—gave us a standing ovation. No, the film wasn’t real, but what Noah and I had just done was yet another memory reel to add to the collection that made up our lives together. I was lucky enough to be able to cue them up for instant replay anytime I wanted, and I did so often.
What started out as a woman’s desperate attempt to save her dying mother had turned into a love story for the ages. Hollywood wasn’t likely to buy the rights to our story, and we would never find our names in lights, but we were a smash hit in our own world. And that was all that mattered.
This book is dedicated to my baby sister, Brittnie Day, who possesses an extraordinary talent of her own. Some days, I think she forgets that. Britt, it’s impossible to be in anybody’s shadow when you’re casting a light of your own. The world is yours. All you have to do is take it by storm.
My decision to publish the Million Dollar Duet did not come quickly or easily, but I’m glad I did it. Obviously, this page is dedicated to acknowledging those people who gave a little bit of their blood, sweat, and tears to help me make that happen. So let’s get on with it, shall we?
First and foremost, I simply must thank my incredibly talented friend and mentor, Darynda Jones. If it hadn’t been for you, this adventure would have taken an entirely different direction. I am convinced people are put into our lives for a reason. Lady, you were put in mine to help make my dreams come true. I love your luscious face.
I still can’t believe how lucky I am to have scored my very remarkable agent, Alexandra Machinist, and my extraordinary editor, Shauna Summers. You are two of my most favorite people in the world. Thank you for taking a chance on me.
Huge thanks to my prereaders: Patricia Dechant, Melanie Edwards, Maureen Morgan, and Janell Ramos. You are my anchors, my sounding boards, and my biggest cheerleaders. Love you. Mean it.
A special shout-out to my street team, Parker’s Pimpin’ Posse, and most important, my loyal readers, thank you. I wish I could call you all out by name because it is your support that keeps me doing what I’m doing.
Last, but not least, I must thank Abyrne Mostyn, because diamonds may be a girl’s best friend, but pearls are so much more fun.
Thank you all. FLYAS!