Fill Me [Dungeon Masters 3] (Siren Publishing Menage Everlasting)
Dungeon Masters 3
Fill Me
Ryia Laurie wants to learn how to make her adult store, “Paddle My Ass,” better and more profitable. Asher Roberts, senior chef, and Elijah Deakin, head of security for The Dom’s Dungeon BDSM Club, want Ryia as their mate. Can they all overcome the legacy of Ryia’s abusive ex husband, Miles, to achieve this? Ryia, Asher, and Elijah attend the “New Directions in the Adult Industry” convention with their separate agendas. But Ryia is so busy looking at the exhibition displays, taking notes at the lectures, and attending all the workshops that Asher and Elijah are hard pressed to catch her attention. When they do, her lack of self-esteem makes letting her know how very interested they are in her even harder, if not impossible. How are they going to catch her interest and get to know her before the convention is over?
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 35,477 words
FILL ME
Dungeon Masters 3
Cara Adams
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
FILL ME
Copyright © 2014 by Cara Adams
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63258-187-7
First E-book Publication: September 2014
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Coypright Page
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
About the Author
FILL ME
Dungeon Masters 3
CARA ADAMS
Copyright © 2014
Prologue
Ryia Laurie stood on the headland overlooking the lake. A cold wind blew her mousy brown hair in all directions, turning it into a tangled mess. Some strands stuck to her wet cheeks as she hiccupped, trying to stop the tears still trickling from her eyes. The handful of tissues she held were soaking wet as she wiped them across her nose, which was hot and sore. She knew it was likely as red as Rudolph the reindeer’s right now, but she refused to hide in the tiny, one-room apartment she’d rented any longer. She was going to reclaim her life. Besides, there was no one around to laugh at her fat ass and thunder thighs in her tight blue jeans, or at her woebegone face and bright red nose.
Ryia stepped closer to the edge of the cliff and looked down at the rocks and sand below her. Two large black dogs were racing up and down the sand, jumping from rock to rock, and even running in and out of the waves on the shoreline. That water must be icy cold! And where is their human?
She looked up and down the shore but couldn’t see anyone. Likely they were sitting hard against the headland wall, basically underneath her, where they’d be sheltered from the wind.
Ryia lifted her face up into the chilly air. The breeze puffed against her sore nose and wet cheeks, blowing the hair off her face and making the tips of her ears ache with cold.
Well, that was a change. Usually her ears ached because her husband—well, the man she’d thought was her husband—had twisted and pinched them to punish her for annoying him. Fucking Miles. Five years of his abuse. Five years of him always telling her she was a fat, lazy, useless cow who couldn’t do anything right. Useless at keeping his apartment clean and tidy. Useless at cooking his meals. And useless in bed where her tons of lard prevented him from reaching a decent climax.
Thank God that was all over now. She pulled the letter out of her bra. The letter she’d received this morning. The letter that had changed her life forever.
Several months ago Ryia had finally left Miles and applied for a divorce. She’d rented a post office box in a different town from the one where she was staying, scared he’d try to force her to go back to him. But he hadn’t even cared enough to fight the divorce. Well, that’s what she’d thought until today. She read through the letter again. She’d read it a dozen times in the past hour and it still blew her mind.
Today, in this letter, she’d learned she couldn’t have a divorce because she was never married. Miles had still been married to his first wife when he married her. In fact, Miles still was married to his first wife even now. Even after five years of living with Ryia twenty-four-seven, controlling every aspect of every moment of her life.
When she’d obeyed her dying father and married the man he’d chosen for her, she’d been an innocent, naïve seventeen-year-old. That was all over now. Five years with Miles had taught her a whole lot of things, some of which might even be useful in her future life. She’d already submitted the paperwork to reclaim her inheritance. An inheritance she’d only found out by accident that was hers.
It’d been very difficult to leave Miles. He was right about so many things, that it was hard to know when he was being cruel and when he was being factual. Yes, she was fat. Not obese, but chubby and overweight
. Yes, she was boring and plain. Likely it was her fault his orgasms were never good enough, because she didn’t have a sexy, runway model’s body.
But she sure as hell knew all the tricks about how to give good head, how to arouse a man, and how to kiss. Miles had taken an innocent virgin and taught her everything a porn star needed to know. And for five years she’d borne all the bruises, and a few broken bones, until she’d learned her lessons perfectly.
And then she’d read a letter from the bank that Miles had forgotten to lock up in his metal box where he kept everything he didn’t want her to see. And it said that she—not him, her—had an account with half a million dollars in it. Her! Ryia, who had to beg Miles for two dollars if the pasta was used up before he decided she could buy a new packet. She, who had to put up with beatings for eating too much of his precious food when she hadn’t touched the damn stuff even though she was desperately hungry because he’d padlocked the refrigerator.
Her father had left her an inheritance. Money that became hers on her twenty-first birthday, and money that she was supposed to have received ever since he’d died.
She’d gotten showered and dressed, even though Miles hadn’t told her she could do either of them that day, and he didn’t permit her to leave the house without him. She’d collected every piece of paperwork she possessed to prove her identity, and had walked to the bank over five miles away, because Miles had their car and he never let her have any money so she couldn’t take a bus. Her car, not his, as all the paperwork was in her name.
That day a few months ago she’d filled in a bazillion forms at the bank to take control of her inheritance, and then she’d gone to a lawyer who specialized in disputed inheritances and filled in a few bazillion more forms. The lawyer had told her Miles belonged in jail. In one way, that would be fitting. She’d been basically in jail for the past five years. But in another way, Ryia just wanted to put the past behind her and start afresh. Which was what she could do now. She didn’t need a divorce because she’d never been married. The money was hers, and the lawyer and the bank would ensure Miles couldn’t take anything more from her.
So now she was standing on the headland overlooking the lake, ready to start her new life. Getting divorced from Miles was the last tie she needed to cut. Although apparently there was no tie to cut. She knew what she’d do. She’d gotten married—well, she’d thought she was married—instead of finishing high school. But she knew a hell of a lot about a man’s sexual needs and desires. She’d go to community college and learn all about running a business and understanding accounts and purchasing. And then she’d use her inheritance to open an adult store.
Those five years with Miles wouldn’t be wasted. She knew now he wasn’t a caring adult guiding a stupid young girl, or even a Dom in the BDSM scene. He was one-hundred percent a bully and an asshole. But she was no innocent virgin anymore either. Her abusive not-husband had taught her everything she needed to know about canes, whips, floggers, paddles, and sex toys. She’d use that knowledge to earn a living. She would finally be in control of her own life.
Invigorated, she walked along the headland, turning her face up to the cold air again, shoving the wet tissues and the crumpled letter back down inside her bra. The dogs were still playing on the sand and rocks of the shoreline. Maybe she’d find a path down there and walk on the beach, too. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been beside a large expanse of water like here. Not since she was in elementary school probably.
Ryia still couldn’t see the person with the dogs and wondered if maybe they lived just near here and came to the shore by themselves. But she hadn’t seen any houses nearby. She walked for maybe ten minutes without finding a pathway down to the beach, so she turned around to walk back toward her car. Her car. It was her car. She was still struggling to understand that everything which Miles had insisted was his, and that she was too stupid and pathetic to touch, had been paid for with her money and were purchased in her name.
She guessed he’d had to buy them in her name because of the way the bank accounts had been set up. But that worked against him now. He had nothing anymore, not even the apartment they’d lived in. Because everything was in her name, paid for by her money, it was all legally hers. Not that she had gone back to that apartment. It had too many bad memories of her being beaten and locked up.
Ryia stopped when she reached the area where the dogs were playing. From this vantage point she could see them much more closely. They really were big. She imagined it’d cost a lot of money to feed them. And then she smiled. No longer did she have to beg for every cent to purchase something. Ten dollars for dog food was not an impossibly huge problem for her anymore. If she wanted a dog, or two dogs, hell, even half a dozen dogs, she could have them.
Ryia crouched down, watching them run around. Do I want a dog? Would I like a guard dog, or a companion animal? Maybe a cute puppy to play with?
The dogs raced to the headland wall and stopped. One of them seemed to be looking up toward her, but now she was sitting on the grass he likely couldn’t see her. He sort of shimmered, and Ryia frowned. And then a naked man was standing on the sand. He bent down and grabbed a pair of jeans, tugging them up his legs, commando. He shrugged into a sweater and then bent to put sandals on his feet.
Ryia just stared. She had to be hallucinating. Dogs did not turn into people. Clearly she’d had too many shocks today, and her mind had completely lost the plot.
The other dog came to the back of the beach and did exactly the same thing, except he remained in bare feet. There were no other people around. When the two men walked up the foreshore in the opposite direction from the one she’d just gone in there were no dogs anywhere. Ryia turned to face the way the two men had walked. She sat and watched for maybe five minutes and saw them make their way up a path. They disappeared from view for a while and then reappeared at the top of the cliff. No dogs. Just two men.
Either I’m completely crazy or I else just saw a shape-shifter. No, two shape-shifters.
First, it turns out I’m not poor and dependent on Miles for everything. Then I learn I’m not even married, despite the ceremony, the white dress, the cake, and the party. Now I see two dogs turn into men. Either a couple of paramedics will turn up any moment now with a straitjacket to take me away and lock me up in a mental health institution, or else my new life is starting off with a massive bang.
Ryia jumped to her feet. “I claim my new life!” she said firmly.
Chapter One
Four years later
Ryia stood in the center of her store, her hands on her ample hips, staring critically at the new stock she’d just arranged on her brand new shelving. She wiggled her nose, screwed up her eyes, and finally nodded. Yeah, it’ll do until I think of a better way to display it.
She’d spent most of her first year in college trying to think of a name for the adult store she planned to own. But no word starting with R fit with Ryia and an adult theme. After that she’d played with words to go with “Adult.” Finally, she’d settled on “Paddle My Ass” as her store name. It screamed adult store, and sex, and yet fun.
All through the second year of her course she’d been researching places to locate her store. It had to be in the type of neighborhood where people would appreciate the genre, yet it had to be a safe enough neighborhood people would visit the store on a cold, dark winter’s day as well as in midsummer. It also needed to be not too close to any existing store.
Finally, only a few weeks before graduation, everything had come together and she’d rented her store in a new warehouse supply neighborhood, which was perfect for her as she could now have walk-in-off-the-street clients, as well as appealing to businesses in industries similar to hers.
It took her three months to get her store set up and during that time she also had a website designed and ready to go live the minute the store was officially open. Now she’d been here a little over a year, and the bottom line of her accounts had been black for the previ
ous three months, and she knew it’d continue that way. She was already getting repeat customers and business customers who were wonderful as they bought more than walk-in clients did.
Her first year alone had been both wonderful, but also very strange and difficult to adjust to. She’d gone straight from being a schoolgirl, to marriage to a control freak, and then to being totally alone, with no one to speak to and nothing to do.
Miles hadn’t let her spend time with her friends except for the occasional lunch or coffee date when he was there as well. Consequently, most of her friends had long ago stopped contacting her, and her father had died very soon after her wedding. It had been his dying wish that she marry Miles, and she’d been happy to accept his choice of man for her because she knew he loved her. Apparently his illness had blinded him to Miles’s true character and she was glad he’d died without finding out what a cruel and devious asshole Miles had turned out to be.
Once she was alone again, Ryia’d had to learn and relearn everything she thought she’d known about life. No longer did laundry have to be done Miles’s way, everything folded exactly into sections. She could eat whatever she wanted to, whenever she wanted to. She slept in a bed every night, instead of on the floor, unless her husband had wanted her for sex. But best of all she could wear clothes whenever she wanted to, and she could choose those clothes for herself.
Miles had destroyed and thrown away almost every item of her so-carefully-chosen wedding trousseau. Lingerie that she’d felt beautiful wearing. Soft, filmy, silky night dresses that had touched and aroused her skin. Pretty dresses that had made her feel mature and grown up, a fit partner for a handsome man like Miles. He’d liked her to wear jeans and baggy sweatshirts “to hide those repulsive rolls of fat” when she left the house. Yet at home, he’d order her to remain naked, in case he wanted to fuck her.