DESIRE UNLEASHED: Sexsomnia: A Psychological Romance Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Book Description

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  CHapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Excerpt: I Am A Dominant

  CATALOGUE #1

  CATALOGUE #2

  CATALOUGE #3

  CATALOGUE #4

  Desire Unleashed

  Sexsomnia

  A Psychological Romance

  Maggie Carpenter

  Copyright © 2018 Dark Secrets Press

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Dark Secrets Press LLC.

  http://www.MaggieCarpenter.com

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  Maggie Carpenter's Books

  https://www.Amazon.com/author/maggiecarpenter

  James is the epitome of an English gentleman

  He is well-bred, well-dressed, and well-mannered.

  But when it comes to the fairer sex he knows exactly what he wants.

  Expected the unexpected.

  He had no idea what that meant until Amelia walked into his life.

  In the middle of the night.

  And asked him to do something very naughty...

  CHAPTER ONE

  Something was buzzing. Groggily lifting his head, James Collier realized he had a visitor. Someone was at the door of his building.

  "Bloody hell," he grumbled, glancing at the eerie blue lights of his bedside clock.

  It told him it was the middle of the night, and the possibilities flashed through his head: the police, a random thug with a very big knife, or some drunk asshole who had lost his key. It suddenly dawned on him that his dislike of buildings offering uniformed doormen might be misplaced. Cursing under his breath as he slipped from his bed, he half-walked, half-staggered down the hallway to the speaker by the door.

  "Who is it?" he grunted, having no qualms about making his annoyance abundantly clear.

  "Amelia!"

  Amelia?

  Not the police?

  Not a thug with a very big knife?

  Not a drunk?

  Maybe it was a drunk, and the drunk wasn't a him, but a very attractive her!

  "Come up."

  Pressing the small black button to allow her entry, he wondered why the cool, collected Amelia Campbell was at his door in the wee hours of the morning, but in spite of his irritation, her unexpected appearance was intriguing. During a month of intense negotiations, she'd glowered at him across a conference table, and when he'd taken her out for an extremely expensive dinner at an exclusive restaurant, she'd appeared to be bored.

  Ambling back to his bedroom and pulling on his robe, he reminded himself she'd relaxed at the end of the evening. She'd still been aloof, but she had relaxed. A knock announced her arrival, and moving back down the hall he opened the door. Amelia stared up at him. Dressed in a dark green, mid-length coat, and high-heeled, patent leather boots, the word erotic flashed through his brain.

  "You'd better come in," he said, staring at the boots as she walked past him. "Are you all right? What's the emergency?"

  Wordlessly she turned around, and eyeing him seductively, she began unbuttoning the coat.

  She was completely nude, but for the captivating black boots.

  It was rare that James found himself at a loss, but at that moment he had neither words to say nor actions to take. For a fleeting moment he wondered if he was having an X-rated lucid dream.

  He stared, stupefied, as the coat slid off her shoulders, puddling around her feet. A beautiful woman completely naked but for high-heeled leather boots was the stuff of fantasy, and despite his shock, his best friend, the one that stared at the world from his crotch, was eagerly springing to life.

  "Amelia," James finally managed, his eyes devouring the delectable cherry tips atop her gloriously full breasts, "I'm not sure what's going on here, but—"

  Before he could finish, her arms were around his neck and her lips were pressing urgently against his. Unable to resist, he wrapped her up and returned her fervent kiss. Her body was perfect. Toned, but not so much she felt like a piece of gristle, and she smelled delicious, like raspberries and cream. Carnal hunger was oozing out of her, and she was making muffled mewling sounds as she pressed her crotch against his leg, but…

  James was an English gentleman.

  Though he'd indulged in the all-consuming kiss, reason kicked in. He needed to find out what had precipitated the bizarre visit, and firmly clutching a fistful of her thick auburn hair, he gently tugged it back.

  "Amelia, it's the middle of the night. Besides the obvious, what made you come here?"

  "Spank me," she whispered. "Please, I need you to spank me and make love to me."

  For a moment, he considered flatly refusing her, but it was only a fleeting moment. She was a grown woman. She seemed perfectly sober. There was nothing about her behavior, unexpected though it was, that suggested she was on drugs, or in any way impaired. She had been coldly professional at work, and reserved when he'd taken her to dinner, but his brain, and his best friend, decided on those occasions she'd presented a facade. The woman in his arms pleading with him to redden her backside and take her to bed, was the real Amelia. The coolly controlled, supercilious woman, was her mask.

  "Since you begged so beautifully," he crooned, breathing the words in her ear, "I'll grant your request. I assume you've been a bad girl."

  She didn't speak, but let out a grateful moan. Sweeping her up, he carried her down the short hallway to his bedroom and gently deposited her on the bed.

  "Spank me, I need it," she whimpered, gazing up at him with half-open eyes.

  The craving.

  The addiction.

  It was a feeling with which he was all too familiar.

  He lived on the other side of the same coin. He was a Dominant, and he understood her submissive soul needed the fix.

  CHAPTER TWO

  It was almost as if he were starring in an erotic film Noir. Amelia's fuck-me-now black boots were glinting in the clock's silver-blue, ghostly light, and she was on all fours wriggling her lusciously poised, glorious backside.

  "Spank me," she murmured, gazing up at him longingly. "Please, James, you must."

  "Let's not forget who's in charge here," he said firmly. "I'll decide when to start and the position you'll assume."

  "Sorry, Sir."

  Her voice was a whimper, and as much as he wanted to make the salacious scene last, it was two-thirty in the morning, and he had a breakfast meeting in five hours. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he ordered her over his lap and waited until she'd settled. Raising his hand he brought it down with a solid smack, quickly following it with a second and a third. He paused for a moment to judge her reaction, and was rewarded with a very heavy sigh. The addict was being satisfied. Moving to her opposite cheek, he repeated the slaps, then fell into a pattern,
landing volleys of three in various areas across her curvaceous cheeks. Her skin was reddening, but she hadn't begged him to stop or fervently apologized.

  Dropping his fingers between her legs he found her wonderfully wet, and he continued to toy with her as he caressed her scalded skin, then helped her off his thighs. She immediately rolled on to her back, closed her eyes, put her arms above her head and spread her legs. The bright blue digits on his clock annoyingly reminded him of the time, but he was a dominant. Vanilla sex, especially after delivering such a satisfying spanking, wasn't in his playbook. He pulled the sash off his robe and quickly tied her wrists, secured them to the headboard, then reaching across to his nightstand, he fished out a condom. Sliding the thin membrane in place he could feel her eyes on him, but she didn't speak, only uttered soft moans of wanting.

  Thrusting into home he began to pump, and raising her knees, she began muttering the often-used, breathy phrase, yes, yes, oh, yes. As much as he was enjoying the unexpected nocturnal interlude, in the back of his mind he was still wondering what had precipitated her visit. But as his fever took hold his mind stilled, and he surrendered to the many joys of her beautiful body.

  Had it been a reasonable hour, he would have brought her to the edge, backed off, and continued to tease her until she was begging for her orgasm, but the situation did not allow for the erotic luxury. When she closed her fingers into fists, wildly exclaiming that she was about to come, he increased his strokes, happily exploding into his raincoat as he listened to her exultations of ecstasy. Slipping from her depths, he quickly released her, and was about to bring her into his arms when she climbed wordlessly from the bed and walked toward the bedroom door.

  "Amelia?"

  She didn't acknowledge him, and grabbing his robe he hastily followed, catching up to her in the living room only to find she was already buttoning her coat.

  "Amelia, you're welcome to stay. It's late, and I don't like the idea of you out there at this hour," he said, genuinely worried. "Did you bring a car? Is there a taxi waiting? Should I call you one?"

  "I'm in a limousine," she replied, moving swiftly to the door.

  "Let me grab a jacket. I'll walk down with you. Please, Amelia, just wait a second."

  She didn't respond, but walked out the door, and completely confounded he watched her disappear down the stairs. Striding across the living room to the windows overlooking the street below, he pulled aside the drapes. A town car was double-parked. As Amelia appeared from his building, the driver hurried around and opened her door. A moment later the car slowly pulled away.

  "What the hell was that?" he muttered, turning around and ambling back to his bedroom.

  As he dropped his robe and crawled into bed, her unique fragrance wafted around him. Raspberries and cream. The aloof woman he knew, or rather, barely knew, was nothing like the submissive creature who had just left his bed, but as the thought crossed his mind he realized it wasn't true.

  She had been aloof as he'd made love to her.

  But the breakfast meeting was important. He needed to get some sleep. Closing his eyes, he pushed her to the back of his mind, and with her smell tickling his nostrils, he finally began drifting away.

  CHAPTER THREE

  One Month Earlier

  When James had been offered the opportunity to work for a venture capital firm in New York for a ridiculous amount of money he'd jumped at the opportunity. His life had no strings, and the famous quote, They made me an offer I couldn't refuse, had rattled through his mind when he'd accepted. New York was a vibrant city. A place where billions were traded daily, the women were beautiful, and the nightlife unparalleled.

  His introduction to Amelia was a moment James swore he'd never forget. When he'd been warned a new player had been brought in from across the pond, a woman named Amelia Campbell, his ears had perked up. It was said Amelia could be the next Margaret Thatcher if she ever chose to enter politics, and she was every bit as formidable as the famous Iron Lady herself.

  Waiting in a conference room on the twenty-second floor of a starkly modern building, he and his colleagues had been enjoying the magnificent view of the Manhattan skyline when she marched briskly into the room. Turning around, he saw a tall elegant woman in a black power suit and a cream silk shirt, her shapely legs encased in black stockings flowing into glossy black stilettos. The extraordinary height of her heels caught his eye. The woman wasn't tall. She just wanted to appear to be tall, but how she was able to walk so effortlessly in such footwear bewildered him.

  "Amelia Campbell," she announced, striding across the room.

  After firmly shaking hands she walked purposefully to the conference table and chose to sit with her back to the wall. James immediately guessed why. If she sat in front of the windows, the focus could be drawn to the spectacular view behind her, and she everyone's undivided attention.

  She had demonstrated the classic power play. Walk in and take control.

  As he studied the faces of his team it had been obvious she'd achieved her goal, but not with him, not by a long shot. He wanted to bend her over the conference table and spank her lovely skirt-covered backside.

  "Would someone be so kind as to bring me a cup of tea?"

  Her crisp, heavily accented British voice snapped him from his lascivious meanderings, and he had to suppress a wicked grin. She was holding court, making those in the room follow her commands. One of the men on her team immediately dashed out into the hallway to bark the order to a secretary.

  Amelia Campbell was an impressive woman.

  He liked her. He liked everything about her. Her class, her style, the way her eyes darted around the table sizing up her opponents, and he especially liked how her eyes had lingered when meeting his. As the negotiations continued, James pictured her over his knee, wriggling with anticipation as he slowly shimmied her tight black skirt above her hips, peeled away whatever layers might be covering her scrumptious backside, and spanking her slowly for a very long time.

  He quickly discovered the rumors about Amelia were true. She was razor sharp, excruciatingly to the point, and her manner was cool and reserved. She spoke softly, making the men around her strain to listen. If asked a direct question, she paused, making them wait for her answer. It was calculating and effective, but James had an advantage his colleagues lacked.

  In addition to being a Dominant, he was British.

  The subtle disdain and supercilious air she used to unnerve the person to whom she was speaking didn't faze him. It reminded him of his very proper grandmother. Amelia also used her beauty. Her body language was suggestive, and though subtle, it was profound. Even for him there were moments it was distracting. After an arduous hour, the deal was swinging in her favor, and it was at that point his colleague, Brad Harrison, gave into frustration.

  "You must be joking," he exclaimed, incredulity pouring out of him. "That clause must be cut, not expanded!"

  Lifting her eyes, Amelia fixed him with a steely gaze, and in her clipped British accent, she'd retorted,

  "Do I strike you as a woman with a sense of humor?"

  The room fell quiet, and Brad's face flushed crimson. It was Joe Golden, one of the driving forces of the company, who came to the rescue.

  "Quite frankly, we should strike that clause altogether," he said stridently.

  "That's not going to happen," Amelia declared, her voice equally authoritative.

  Joe was smart enough not to be drawn into the battle. After making a point of looking at his watch, he abruptly stood up and took command of the table.

  "It's time to adjourn. I have another meeting."

  James and his cohorts rose to their feet, but when the room filled with the clicking of briefcases, Joe did something that showed not just his moxie, but why he'd built such a successful company.

  "Miss Campbell," he said warmly, peering down at her over the glasses perched at the end of his nose.

  She glanced up at him expectantly, but Joe purposefully waited until the
room had fallen quiet.

  "I suggest you scrutinize that clause this evening. Seek out where there's room for movement. If you want this deal to happen, you need to find it."

  James noticed a light tinge of pink burn across her cheeks, and though Joe began his short speech with the warmth of a kindly gentleman, he finished sounding like a principal scolding a recalcitrant pupil. James suppressed a smile, and it was then he decided Amelia was a woman he wanted to know better.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Though most of the meetings with Amelia Campbell and her cohorts continued to be contentious, James always looked forward to seeing her. When their eyes touched, he was sure he could see a hint of a sparkle that was meant just for him, but he knew most men believed if they were attracted to a woman it was mutual, so he'd allowed himself some doubt.

  Once the deal was done, he'd decided to wait a couple of weeks before calling her. He chose a Tuesday afternoon, thinking it would give her a day to recover from the weekend, and early enough in the week that she wouldn't have plans for the following Saturday night. He had no idea how long she'd be staying, but even if she was about to leave, he still wanted to have dinner with her. To his delight, she accepted his call.

  "Hello, James."

  "Hello, Amelia. How are you?"

  "Very well, thank you, and you?"

  "Excellent. I'm calling to ask if you'd like to have dinner."

  "Yes, thank you, I would."

  He smiled. She hadn't even hesitated.

  "Great, are you free this Saturday by any chance?"

  "I am. Where should we meet?"

  "I'm an English gentleman, Amelia, or hadn't you noticed?"

  "It was hard to miss."