Sex Slave
by Natalie Acres
Cowboy Sex Book Seven, Daughters of Cartwell and McKay
"Trying to outrun a destructive relationship, Kimberly Cartwell finds passion and protection through the love and admiration of two powerful Doms. Unveiling secrets about Kimberly’s past, Wyatt Clanton and Sebastian Ketchum purchase Kimberly’s time at a lifestyle benefit auction and prepare a rigorous submissive training program, one destined for an unwelcomed interruption.
International trouble follows Kimberly to Sebastian Ketchum’s estate. Once Kimberly is abducted, Sebastian and Wyatt are determined to find her. Pooling their resources, Sebastian and Wyatt discover Kimberly and her abductor at a South Carolina exhibitionism club. Realizing there is only one way to shield Kimberly from her past, Sebastian and Wyatt plan a train trip.
During their travels, Wyatt and Sebastian learn Kimberly not only wants to serve and please, but she is also interested in extreme BDSM. As she escapes a man who nearly ruined her, Kimberly surrenders free will by placing her faith and trust in the two men who have waited years to love her."
THIS BOOK IS HEAVY BDSM WITH SUSPENSION BONDAGE SO I’D WANT YOU TO KNOW THIS SO I DON’T OFFEND ANYONE!
Cowboy Sex Books in Order:
Sex Party, Book One
Sex Games, Book Two
Sex Camp, Book Three
Sex Holiday, Book Four
Sex Club, Book Five and Part One of the Daughters of Cartwell and McKay
Sex Retreat, Book Six and Part Two of the Daughters of Cartwell and McKay
Sex Slave, Book Seven and Part Three of the Daughters of Cartwell and McKay
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He laughed. “So where were we?”
Slender fingers raked across her brow as he became completely entranced by her pretty oval face. “I guess after that outburst, I should apologize.”
“Why?” Wyatt asked.
“For Mitch and Trixie.”
“They aren't bothering me. Are they a distraction for you?”
“No,” she replied. “Then again, I’m used to the lifestyle.”
“Are you?” He leaned forward, totally intrigued. Now they were moving the conversation along in a direction he liked.
“Look around, Wyatt. Surely you don’t think I walk through this club with blinders on.”
“I've watched you when the lights are dim and the patrons are here. No, Kimberly, you don’t strike me as a woman who wears shades and only sees what she wants to see.”
“Pretending not to notice public sex acts borders the impossible when the club is open for business.”
“So you understand what’s transpiring out in your parking lot at this very minute.”
She shifted in her chair. There was a darker quality to her brown eyes then, but he only saw the richer shade difference for a moment. She immediately dipped her head and kept her gaze downcast.
Wyatt stroked his chin and studied her. She’d been trained properly, schooled in Domination and submission, and showed an outright sign of submissiveness then.
“Look at me,” he rasped. This woman could have him by the balls at the turn of a hand.
She tilted her head and focused on the window before returning her gaze to him. His entire body went rigid at her defiance. He swallowed once, thinking of how he’d love to test her, use his dominance to strengthen her role as a submissive woman.
Think, hell. Tests were among life’s greatest pleasures.
“What is this meeting about?”
“Look out the window, Kimberly.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I want you to tell me what you see.”
She started to defy him. Defiance existed in her body language and facial expression.
“I want a vivid description. Tell me.”
Kimberly stared at his mouth as if she were totally enchanted by his lips. She acted as if the request proved too enticing to refuse, yet she didn't avert her gaze to the window again. Instead, her eyes grew heavy. Her stiff jaw loosened and her slender shoulders relaxed.
“Kimberly?” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “It isn't as if we are strangers.”
She jerked then and stared at their clasped hands. He wondered how much she remembered of the night they’d danced together. It had been several weeks ago, but he still remembered the way her body had moved against his as the music set the pace for a thrashing tempo, a rhythm that had led many couples into the throes of public passion.
She’d had a few drinks. He’d watched her slam shot after shot and then, she’d made her way through the club, checking on her guests and observing—with lust in her eyes—as some of the couples performed openly for all to see.
“They’re fucking,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice.
“Are they?” His cock twitched in his jeans. They’d bounded over their first hurdle and he couldn't help but feel as if she’d opened the door to something more.
Directness was precisely what he needed from this woman. Hell, who was he fooling? He longed for more than forthcoming replies to his questions.
He stared at her mouth. God, she had such beautiful, full lips. He wondered if they were enhanced as she swiped her tongue over the shape of her upper lip. Then, because he couldn't help himself, he imagined her stretched around his size, her lips bowing in acceptance as he sank his cock deep inside her mouth.
Would she slap him if he reached over and…And before he could stop himself, he inched his hand closer to her face and dragged his thumb across her bottom lip.
A playful nip caught him off guard. She bit at the pad and drew the soft tip between her lips. Her wicked tongue slithered over his fingernail.
His breath hitched with the sensation. His body was erect. His nipples were as hard as flat discs. Mesmerized, God help him, he was totally entranced by this woman.
“How do you know they’re fucking?” he asked quietly. “You've only looked at me since I asked the question.”
As if he’d broken a hex or whatever spell had been cast, she jolted to an upright attention. She rubbed her lips together as if she were biding time and trying to think of something to say.
To his surprise, she looked at him dead-on again. “If Trixie had been in Mitch’s lap, it wouldn't have been a problem. The reason Ansley is pitching a fit is because they’re fucking. And apparently, they’re not even trying to hide the fact.”
“Does it bother you?”
“Because my sister’s lover is throwing it to her in the parking lot of a known kink club? Come on. Do you really think I’m a prude?”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Can I test that?”
She released a sexy and quite throaty gasp. At the same time, a side door opened and closed. There was quick movement in his peripheral. Then he heard heavy footsteps.
“I don’t know,” she replied, grinning. “Can you?”
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Cassandra Carr lives in Western New York with her husband, Inspiration, and her daughter, Too Cute for Words.
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