Bared to Him Read online

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Bared to Him

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-155-6

  ©Copyright Sierra Cartwright 2012

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright November 2012

  Edited by Eleanor Boyall

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-melting and a sexometer of 3.

  This story contains 59 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 8 pages.

  BARED TO HIM

  Sierra Cartwright

  Tempted by the billionaire…

  When stern, handsome, powerful, and rich Phillip Dettmer offers to all make Myka Monroe’s BDSM fantasies come true, she’s oh so tempted. She has always dreamed of being with a man who would be relentless in his expectations, a Dom who will push her to the edge, giving her the climaxes she craves and the bondage she needs.

  But she had never imagined that Phillp Dettmer would lay her bare to him, mentally and emotionally as well as sexually, or that the experience would change her life forever, leaving her stronger and more able to ask for what she needs…

  Chapter One

  “Which floor?”

  “Twelve, thanks,” Myka said slightly breathlessly. He’d patiently held the elevator door open while she hurried across the lobby of the downtown Denver office building. She’d been at lunch too long—the quarterly gathering with her college girlfriends had been too scandalously delicious to leave. As the waiter had brought a second glass of wine for each of them, they’d shared stories of their sex lives—the thrills and droughts—and now she was running late for a meeting with a client.

  The man pushed the button for the twelfth floor and then fifteen, presumably for his. The elevator doors slid shut.

  “How’s the book?”

  Self-consciously she moved the bestselling paperback behind her. “I just borrowed it from a friend.” Borrowed it? Prised it from Kathleen’s unwilling fingers was more like it. Everywhere Myka went, it seemed people were talking about the book, and, after some of her friends’ confessions over lunch, Myka had been desperate to read it. She knew little about BDSM, yet what she knew intrigued her. But where would she find a man into that kind of kink? Her last boyfriend had freaked out and left when she’d brought out scarves and asked him to tie her up.

  “Do you know anything about the book?” he asked.

  She took a second look at him. He was taller than her, by at least six inches, and that said something since she was unusually tall. In heels, she wasn’t used to looking up at many people.

  He appeared to be in his late thirties. His dark hair had a smattering of appealing grey at the temples. It added to his distinguished good looks.

  His eyes were a startling green. She had the odd sense that he saw through her tough exterior into her innermost secrets.

  She knew she was staring, but she couldn’t look away. His scent seemed to brand the air—something crisp and outdoorsy, a stamp of primal male power and intrigue. Even his clothing captured attention.

  Myka made a decent living as a financial adviser, and she recognised quality. The suit that had been exquisitely tailored to fit his toned body cost at least a month of her salary.

  “So, do you?”

  She was lost. “Do I what?”

  “Do you know anything about the book?”

  He captured her gaze. Instinct told her to look away, but she couldn’t. Unnerved, she stepped forward so she could exit quickly. “It’s hard not to,” she said. “It’s being talked about everywhere.” Realising she was in danger of babbling, something she did not do, she countered, “Have you read it?”

  “I haven’t read it, no. There’s no need.”

  A bell dinged, signalling that she’d reached her floor. “No need?” she asked.

  “I live the lifestyle,” he said.

  The doors slid open.

  He moved forward, crowding her space. She’d have to brush past him to exit. He pressed the button to keep the doors open. “Look me up if you’re curious.”

  This man, tall and broad, had an air of easy command, as if he was accustomed to issuing orders and having others obey. She had an insane urge to treat him with respect he’d yet to earn. She felt her body grow warmer.

  He stepped aside, and she exited the elevator. The doors slid closed.

  “You were on the elevator with Phillip Dettmer? Hello…? Earth to Myka…”

  She looked at Lori, the firm’s receptionist. Lori had been with Lawson Financial almost as long as Myka had been. “That was Phillip Dettmer?” Though it was fruitless, she looked back towards the closed elevator doors.

  “Yeah. The one. The only. The unbearably sexy.”

  Myka knew the name—who in Denver didn’t? He was legendary when it came to buying businesses, whether they wanted to be bought or not. He owned stakes in the local baseball team and was rumoured to be a billionaire. From his air of confidence, she certainly believed it. Of course she knew the name, but she didn’t follow the local media enough to have recognised his picture.

  Lori was making an elaborate show of fanning herself with a manila file folder. “Every time I see him, he makes me want to do things that are immoral.”

  Myka had a similar sense. “Do you see him often?”

  “He has a business associate in this building. If the switchboard announces he’s in the building, I try to catch a glimpse of him.”

  “He asked about the book.” Myka held up the paperback. “He wanted to know if I’d read it.”

  “You talked about sex with Phillip Dettmer? In the elevator? Get out!” Lori dropped the manila folder.

  “Not about sex exactly.”

  “Just about kink?”

  She didn’t tell Lori that he’d invited her to look him up. It didn’t escape her notice that he hadn’t given her a business card or any other way to reach him. If she wanted to contact him, she’d have to be determined. And maybe he wasn’t serious, anyway.

  “I’d get naked with him in a second. Colour me green with jealous monster,” Lori said.

  The phone rang, and Lori answered, sounding like a consummate professional, even though she gave Myka a wide smile and a big thumbs-up.

  Myka continued to her office and shut the door. For a moment, she leaned her shoulders against the wood. Her heart was racing, and she couldn’t seem to banish the scent of him.

  Good God, she had this kind of reaction, and he hadn’t even touched her.

  She took a deep breath then smoothed her skirt as she walked to her desk to hide the book. She had a meeting in less than five minutes. Her voicemail notification was blinking madly, and sh
e still had investments to research before going home.

  All afternoon, the meeting in the elevator teased her thoughts. She couldn’t wait to get back to the privacy of her loft.

  A couple of hours later than she’d planned, she arrived home. She skipped dinner and opted for a glass of wine, instead.

  At home, she went into her office, placed the book on the desk and then powered up her computer to learn what she could about Phillip Dettmer. There was page after page of information, from his business dealings, to his charitable endeavours, to his numerous romances, some of them with actresses and models, even one with an heiress. It seemed as if none of his relationships had lasted more than a few weeks.

  He looked heart-stoppingly hot in a tuxedo on the red carpet. He was fuck-me gorgeous in jeans and a brown leather bomber jacket. And, oh God, in a swimsuit with the surf behind him… Phillip Dettmer definitely worked out. The picture was grainy—probably a paparazzi shot—but she could see the dark hair that arched downward, disappearing into the waistband of his swim trunks. And he’d invited her to make contact with him!

  Dare she?

  She went back to his business website and clicked on the Contact Us page. There was a picture of him in a suit—a typical headshot—a brief bio, concluding with the reassurance that he really did want to hear from people. Boldly she took the next step and clicked on his picture.

  The next page didn’t provide his email address, rather it had a number of blanks for her to fill in. She hovered the pointer over the first field before exhaling and moving her hand away from the mouse.

  What was she doing even contemplating a hook-up with a billionaire? He was out of her league, and she knew next to nothing about the kinky lifestyle he professed to live.

  With a sigh, she closed her web browser and turned off the computer. She picked up the paperback before heading to the master bathroom to turn on the bathwater. Tonight a shower wouldn’t do. She needed a long, leisurely soak with bubbles, wine, a book, and a fantasy.

  An hour later, she’d read a hundred scorching pages that had left her feeling restless. She’d finished the glass of wine, and she’d reheated the bathwater twice.

  Myka slammed the book closed, dropped it on the floor, leant back against the bath pillow, and closed her eyes. Part of her wished she’d never read a page. She was more aroused and dissatisfied than she ever remembered being. Suddenly she knew what she’d been missing, what she’d been craving.

  Every one of her sexual experiences had been ho-hum and boring. She’d had plenty of missionary sex. One guy had preferred she be on top. She’d broken up with her last boyfriend six months ago, and clearly the drought was getting to her. How else could she explain the fact she suddenly wanted Phillip Dettmer to tie her hands behind her back and bend her over the bed? He’d use a silk scarf, or maybe handcuffs… He’d tell her, in detail, what he was going to do to her before slapping her ass hard.

  She opened her eyes. It was almost as if she could feel the pressure of his open-handed strike on her buttocks.

  What the hell was going on? Myka had always been practical and realistic, never given to flights of fancy. She’d studied hard, graduated with honours, and secured a great job. But now…

  She climbed from the bathtub and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel. Maybe it was because she’d read the book, or from the risqué lunch conversation, but she was more turned on than she remembered being. She grabbed a vibrator from the nightstand drawer and lay down on the bed.

  After turning on the switch, Myka parted her thighs and placed the egg-shaped vibrator against her pussy. She finally admitted the truth to herself. She was aroused, not from the book or from lunch with her friends. It was the chance meeting with Mr Dettmer that had her on edge.

  The scent of him, combined with his aura of authority and bold words, had turned her on. The humming, pulsing sensation pushed her to the edge. She continued to move the egg against her swollen clit, but the orgasm loomed, just out of reach.

  Reaching for a climax, she dug her heels into the mattress and turned the vibrator to its highest setting. She surrendered to her imagination and pictured things that Phillip Dettmer might do to her. She pinched her right nipple as hard as she could. The pain was exquisite. Would he do the same? Or would he use clamps on her? In her fantasy, he squeezed her breasts hard, then yanked on her nipples, showing no mercy.

  She doubted he’d be afraid to use scarves to tie her up. In fact, in her imagination he used bondage gear to tie her to the bed and rip orgasm after orgasm from her poor body. He’d be relentless in his demands. Even when she begged for mercy, he’d refuse to grant her any.

  He was completely in charge of the situation. His only requirement was surrender.

  In her fevered imagination, she submitted to him. She had no idea what that really meant, but she wanted to find out. She wanted to kneel for him, to follow his orders, to get rid of her inhibitions with a man who wasn’t afraid of her sexuality. For her, that was what it was really about. Even when she was in a committed relationship, she masturbated while her boyfriends were at work. No matter how much sex she got, it wasn’t enough. And when she articulated that, the men had seemed offended, as if she’d questioned their manhood.

  Her pussy got wetter and wetter as she imagined Phillip Dettmer’s hands on her body. His touch wouldn’t be gentle, but it would be what she needed.

  The lunch with her friends had been liberating. Kathleen had got what she wanted in her new relationship. Meghan had got her boyfriend to spank her. So it was possible…

  Myka tightened her grip on her nipple and imagined Mr Dettmer slapping her pussy hard.

  The idea and the slight pain was enough to make her cry out. Then she pictured him, naked, his cock erect, digging his hand into her hair before forcing that big dick inside her needy pussy. The image of him fucking her relentlessly pushed her to the edge.

  Wave after wave assailed her. She’d never had an orgasm this sustained. Shock waves of sensation flooded her pussy. This was what she’d always wanted, dreamed of.

  Soon the intensity from the vibrator became too much, and she dropped it, leaving it humming on the mattress while she drank in gulps of air.

  It took a full minute for her to breathe normally again. Finally, she sat up and switched off the small egg. Her legs were wobbly as she donned a nightshirt.

  The climax had been good, and yet the odd restlessness persisted. Usually she slept well after an orgasm, but not tonight. Scenes from the book teased her, only she was the heroine of the story and Phillip Dettmer tied her, spanked her, tormented and clamped her. He administered the pain she craved, until she screamed her pleasure and begged for the relief that he repeatedly denied her.

  Even though she slept fitfully at best, she was awake twenty minutes before her alarm clock rang. Her heart beat quickly, and her blood hummed as if she’d already had a pot of coffee.

  Sometime during the night, she’d reached a decision to get in contact with Mr Dettmer.

  She wanted the experience he offered, at least once. He might be disappointed in her, but she’d have the memory to last a lifetime.

  Before she could change her mind, she powered up the computer. While it was booting, she went into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee from her single-cup brewer. She took a long, fortifying sip before opening her browser, selecting the last site from her history, and clicking on his picture.

  She filled in her contact information. In the blank space for her message, she wrote, “Met you in the elevator yesterday. I’m curious.”

  Her hand shook as she hit Send.

  Myka spent the next hour alternately wishing she’d never sent the email and obsessively checking for a response.

  She was on the way out of the door, a to-go cup of coffee in hand, when her cell phone signalled an incoming email. She juggled the cup, her purse, and her tote onto the hallway table. There was no way she could tolerate the suspense of not knowing if the message was from him.

&nb
sp; Her heart momentarily stopped then raced on madly.

  The subject line read, “Call me.” There was no message, just a phone number. She collapsed against the wall and stared at the screen. She only had to touch the number to dial him.

  Dare she?

  Finally she took a deep breath and touched the number. The phone gave her the option to confirm her choice.

  This time she didn’t hesitate. She’d made up her mind.

  “Dettmer,” he said.

  Oh, God. She’d forgotten how rich his voice was, how compelling. With a single word, he made her damp. “Hello…” She paused, uncertain how to address him. Sir? Phillip? Mr Dettmer?

  He waited. Even through the phone lines, she sensed his patience. “It’s Myka Monroe. We met yesterday in the elevator.”

  “How was the book?” he asked.

  “You don’t waste time on small talk, do you?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “It might make it a bit easier.”

  “Is that what you really want, Myka? For me to make things easier for you? Or do you want to confess to me that you played with yourself last night while you thought of me?”

  She gasped.

  Before she could formulate an answer, he spoke again. “How many times did you come, Myka?”

  The dialogue in the novel had been one of the things that had turned her on most, but now that Phillip Dettmer, the Phillip Dettmer, was being so blunt, she found herself flustered. “Just once,” she said.

  “Did you use a toy, or just your hand?”

  “Uhm… A toy.” The word sir was on the tip of her tongue, and she almost, almost, used it. She’d never had that kind of inclination with any man before, but then she’d never met a man this powerful, this self-assured, this unyielding.

  “Tell me more. Where were you? What were you thinking of?”

  Thank God she hadn’t returned his call from the office. “Last night I took a bath.” She paused, but he didn’t fill the silence. She sensed he’d wait her out, no matter how long it took. Nervously she continued, “I had a glass of wine and I read for about an hour in the tub. You know, the book I had in the elevator.”