Chapter 28
"What would I have said? You usually were dating someone. I was too afraid to take the risk."
"Maybe I just needed to get to a place where I could recognize the right woman for me. That woman is you, Anna. I love you. I mean it."
"Oh, Jonah." She stood and threw herself into his embrace.
He pulled her close. "Anna, let's get married."
Anna struggled out of his arms. "What?"
"I'm serious. I wasn't planning to bring it up so soon, but that's what I want. That's where I see this going. If I love you and you love me, what reason is there to wait?"
Anna closed her eyes. She'd imagined this moment - the moment when Jonah confessed his love and begged her to marry him, but she'd been off the mark on how she would feel. She'd known she'd be happy - ecstatic even. She hadn't known that she'd feel his love and acceptance down to her bones. She hadn't suspected that the sensation of joy filling every pore, every cell of her being would be almost more happiness than she could bear.
His hand cupped her face. "Anna?"
"Yes. Oh, Jonah, yes." Anna kissed his palm and he pulled her into his arms. No more words were necessary. Their bodies communicated all the love between them.
Epilogue.
Tabitha and Anna stood on the curb loaded down with shopping bags. They'd been spending time together since the engagement announcement. Tabitha, having just planned a wedding, was game to help with another.
Anna turned, her eyes focusing on the building across the street as a couple exited. "Oh look, there's Damon."
"Damon?"
"He's the head of security at work," Anna explained.
Tabitha nodded as her eyes followed Anna's gaze. When Tabitha saw the couple, she froze in shock.
Anna continued speaking, unaware of Tabitha's reaction. "I wonder if she's his girlfriend?"
"I know that woman," Tabitha murmured.
"You do?"
"That woman is Marcus's former fiancee."
The End ~ * ~ * ~.
Want to know what happens next?
His Pa.s.sion, Her Temptation Book 4 in the Dominating BDSM Billionaires Series Releases July 2013.
Granger Pharma executive Monica Granger is hiding her relations.h.i.+p from her family. She has to. Her lover is the son of her father's biggest business rival. Ben Coron is more than Monica can resist; he's everything she's ever wanted - including dominant in bed.
But when Coron Health makes a play for Granger Pharma, Monica's relations.h.i.+p--and her life--blow wide open. She loses her job, and her family rejects her. Someone's stealing Granger's vital trade secrets, and worse, Monica's brother is dodging attempts on his life.
Their pa.s.sion is too strong to keep Monica and Ben apart for long. They must thwart the takeover and heal the rift between their families. If they don't, they'll never trust one another enough to pursue the dominance and submission they both need.
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About the Author.
Malia Mallory lives in Hawaii with her husband and daughter. She's been working with words since alphabet blocks rolled into her crib, not only writing her own work but copy editing and proofreading the work of others. She has loved to read about relations.h.i.+ps since she first sneaked off with her mother's Harlequin.
Malia Mallory is the best-selling author of The ABCs of Erotica series, which covers the erotic spectrum from BDSM to menage and everything in between. More releases in the series are on the way. She has also released the Mia's Cop Craving series and Santa's Backdoor Baby. Malia's books have hit the bestseller lists in multiple countries. Her books are available in electronic format at major eBook retailers.
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The Exhibitionist.
By USA Today bestselling author.
STARLA COLE.
1: The Bondage Exhibition.
The wind whipped between the crumbling facades of the abandoned buildings of the Warehouse District as Syria and her friend Mia followed the long block from where they'd been instructed to park their car.
Syria s.h.i.+vered, not sure if it was entirely from the cold. She was nervous as h.e.l.l. When her j.a.panese bondage instructor had invited her and Mia to partic.i.p.ate in a s.h.i.+bari exhibition, she hadn't realized they'd be treated like help rather than talent.
All they had been told was to park well away from the building where the exhibition would be held and to enter by the back door.
They really had no idea what they'd gotten into.
"I don't see why we
Syria peered down the street, looking for any signs of life. Neither of them had dressed properly for the cold, which had come on suddenly that afternoon. "We should have reconsidered our outfits," she said.
Mia's stiletto boots teetered on the uneven pavement. "Stupid, stupid. We don't even know what they're going to do to us." Her teeth chattered, and Syria wondered if she was nervous too. Mia was the one getting tied up in front of strangers. Syria was just the moral support.
"You don't have to do it, you know," Syria said. "We can go back to the car and forget the whole thing. It's not like we'll run into the Madam at the grocery."
The Madam was the bondage instructor Syria had hired. After one look at Mia's extraordinary flexibility, the Madam insisted that she be in one of her exhibitions. These shows were rare and impossible to get access to.
They s.h.i.+vered as they tromped along the sidewalk. Syria wondered how warm the warehouse could possibly be, and if they would keep Mia naked for the bondage, as was customary. She was glad she was only a silent spectator.
And a sneaky one. The Madam had told her not to photograph anything, but Syria couldn't bear it. She was a photographer! This was way too amazing of an opportunity to pa.s.s up, so she'd modified her bag to allow her lens to peek out.
She set the focus to manual and would have to hope things were in range. With the low light and a bit of distance between her and the bondage suspensions, she might get nothing, but she had to try. The camera was in silent mode, no beeps or clicks. She'd get away with it. No one would be paying any attention to her.
The wind whipped right up her short skirt and chilled her thighs. She wore proper panties today, no g-string, but under the cute leather jacket she only had on a sheer white halter, tied behind her neck and so thin as to be almost invisible. The top was Mia's idea, in hopes that Syria would interest another of the bondage experts to tie her up too.
Syria wasn't sure about that, but wearing something so bare out in public had sent such a hard-core thrill through her, she'd had to do it. Mia had snapped an image of her to send to her boyfriend Tyson up in Seattle, although he'd been working a gig and hadn't responded yet.
Mia's legs were bare too, but under her trench coat she wore spandex boy shorts and a tight fuzzy sweater. Unlike Syria, she'd put on a bra in case they would let her keep on underwear. Not that she was shy, obviously, having done a pirate s.e.x show for years. But even her experience couldn't keep her hands from shaking as she tied her belt back at Syria's house. They were both out of their element.
The warehouse loomed in front of them, three stories and larger than any of the other small metal buildings that lined the street. No cars had pa.s.sed during their walk and the street lights were dim. The whole atmosphere felt like a movie, two young girls entering to their doom. Syria's belly quivered, imagining the doors opening wide and both of them getting swept into a room to be stripped, tortured, and kept prisoner.
"That looks like the door." Mia pointed to a small back entry, painted red, the only bit of color in the dreary metal and concrete. They turned off the street and headed for it. As they approached, another tiny figure arrived from the opposite street, huddling in a blue pea coat. As they all arrived at the door, Syria saw she was Asian, her black hair twisted in a tight bun, her face painted white with red lips and heavily lined eyes, like a traditional Geisha.
"It's our first time," Mia said to her.
The girl shook her head and brought her finger to her lips.
"What, we can't talk?" Mia asked.
The girl shook her head again, then whispered, "We are submissives. This is our door. Do not speak upon entering."
"I'm just a spectator," Syria said, but fell silent at the glare from the kohl-lined eyes, surprised at the strength coming from someone so tiny.
The presence of another girl, one who had clearly done this before and lived to tell about it, and even come back for more, soothed Syria's nerves. It would be like the video she'd seen, she guessed, lots of ropes and strung-up girls and men sitting around. Nothing to fear.
The heat that washed over them when the door opened was another relief. Mia glanced back at Syria and smiled. "This is going to rock!"
The other girl shook her head, rus.h.i.+ng forward, probably to distance herself from the noncompliant submissive. Syria wished they had more thorough instructions.
They walked down a dimly lit corridor, metal doors at regular intervals all tightly shut. Syria pushed a little faster, trying to follow the tiny figure ahead of them. Madam had not given them any directions beyond entering the red door.
The hallway turned sharply and now they could make out a bright light at the end. A man stood there, resplendent in a three-piece suit, and he pointed the first girl to a door. Syria slowed down, as did Mia. The man watched them approach. He, too, was Asian, slight, with thick black hair and sly eyes. He missed nothing, Syria could tell, appraising the women much as she might when considering an angle to photograph. She tightened the bag against her body.
He turned to Mia. "You must be Madam's new submissive."
Mia nodded. The man pointed to another door in the corridor, but when Syria tried to follow, he caught her arm. "Submissives only. She will be prepped."
Mia halted. "Oh no, she's coming with me."
"Madam will not be pleased." The man's brows furrowed together, his eyes dark.
"Madam can shove it up her back door." Mia's eyes flashed, her cheeks pink. She linked her arm through Syria's. "We're doing this as a favor."
They pushed through the door and immediately stopped. The room didn't match the rest of the warehouse at all, plush carpeting on the floor, a ma.s.sage chair, gold fabric draped on the walls, a bright makeup table. And people. Several people.
A woman in a red kimono, hair piled high above a bright friendly face, reached for Mia's hand. "You are just as the Madam described." Her movements were fluid and graceful, leading Mia to the makeup table with gentle firmness even though she was pet.i.te.
Syria hung back at the door. Two women began removing Mia's coat and brus.h.i.+ng her hair. Red Kimono turned to her. "You must be Mia's friend, the photographer." She glanced down at the oversized bag, and Syria felt unmasked. "I am sure she is so glad you are here. The first time can be unnerving."
She gestured to a chaise lounge. "Rest here. I am Kana, the Madam's a.s.sistant. You may remain with us until the time of the exhibition."
Syria sank onto the plush chaise, carefully setting her bag beside her. The women were intricately braiding Mia's long black hair. A third woman began powdering her face.
"Shall I take your coat?" Kana asked.
Syria's face flushed, remembering the sheer halter. "No, no. I'm a bit chilled." The room, actually, was quite warm, but she couldn't bear to wear such a slinky outfit among their gorgeous j.a.panese formality. All the women were in ceremonial dress, glimmering kimonos with the funny socks that allowed their sandals to go between the toes. Syria tucked her knees tightly together, glad for sensible boots and not the tramp heels Mia wore.
But the women quickly removed her shoes, setting them carefully on a cart. Mia faced a mirror in her sweater and boy shorts. The makeup girl stepped back and with a nod, the other women pulled the sweater over Mia's head. Her black bra stood out sharply in the soft room, like a blight. With a quick snap, it fell away.
Mia caught Syria's eye in the mirror, and Syria attempted a smile. The women pulled Mia to standing and tugged down the shorts. Now she was naked, but only a moment before Kana covered her in a s.h.i.+mmery gold robe.
The makeup girl returned to her position and Mia was given an artful look, dark lashes and deep color on her lids. Her lips were brushed plum and her cheekbones stood out. She looked beautiful, exactly right for her hair and skin, like a G.o.ddess with the braids.
A side door opened and a larger bustling woman in a plain white kimono entered with a tray of bottles. She waved the others aside and untied Mia's robe, pressing her hands against her thighs and arms and waist. Mia caught Syria's expression yet again, amused.
The women pulled Mia up and the robe came off and now the woman rubbed something along Mia's rib cage, her upper arms, and then along her thighs and ankles.
Pressure points, Syria realized, and probably something to a.s.sist with the places the ropes might chafe her. She b.u.mped her bag in just the right spot. She couldn't hear the click but sensed the camera had taken the shot. She had no idea if she was getting anything, but the image was amazing, Mia, surrounded by the women in their resplendent costume, anxious and bemused.
The woman stood, satisfied and the gold robe went back on.
Kana waved to Syria. "It is time. You will go with me to sit with the audience. Because you are a woman, you will have to sit in the back. I understand if this does not fit with your idea of how you would be treated, but this group, while not strictly j.a.panese, likes to abide by certain rules. We hope you will obey them so that you might come again."
She smiled, and Syria was reminded of a b.u.t.terfly, her face was so open and kind, the color from her kimono reflecting on her face.
"Okay." Syria didn't know what else to say but picked up her bag and followed Kana out through the door. The other women led Mia another way. "See you soon!" she called out.
The corridor continued another several yards then opened into a large s.p.a.ce bordered by a stage lit with soft white towers of light. Three rows of chairs were filled with men of many ethnicities, all in suits, laughing and talking amongst themselves.