Caging Kat

TEASE

festivals series

CAGING KAT By Kayleigh Jamison

TEASE PUBLISHING www.teasepublishingllc.com 2

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Caging Kat A Festivals series release A Tease Publishing Book/E book Copyright© 2007 Kayleigh Jamison ISBN: 987-1-934678-83-1 Cover Artist: Stella Price Interior text design: Stacee Sierra All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Tease Publishing LLC www.teasepublishingllc.com PO BOX 234 Swansboro, North Carolina 28584-0234 Tease and the T logo is  Tease Publishing LLC. All rights reserved.

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Dedication For the girls.

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Once a year, the gods of Olympus host a masquerade ball on the remote island of Arcadia. Invitations are precious, and coveted; those who accept them are given a wish. One night, one place of magic, and one chance to make dreams come true.

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Kat did her best to suppress a groan as she took a quick survey of the ballroom. This was going to be easy. Too damn easy, she thought bitterly. Her hazel, almond-shaped eyes caught the flash of another extravagantly crafted diamond necklace, fastened to the throat of a slender, masked girl, who twirled by in the arms of an equally slender, masked gentleman. She shook her head, then ran one exquisitely manicured hand through her chin-length, red hair. Like shooting fish in a barrel. But, as her mother always said whenever she retrieved a liquor bottle from the microwave -- under the sink -beneath the sofa cushions– desperate times call for desperate measures. Her profession – and she used the term loosely, since she could never put it on her tax forms – had gotten boring of late. Seriously boring. Being the most sought after art thief on the black market had been extremely appealing in her youth, but after the fifth or sixth Van Gogh…she’d lost interest. It wasn’t that she’d had a moral change of heart; hell no, she could care less whose wall Starry Night hung on, but there just wasn’t any challenge in it anymore. By the time she’d realized it though, she was stuck. At twenty-nine, she had never held a real job in her life. She’d dropped out of college after her second year, when she’d successfully stolen the Ancient Roman urn out of the Walter’s and sold it for twelve million dollars. Who gave a shit about Calculus 102 anyway, even if she was driving to and from class in a brand new Ferrari? Scratch that, especially if she was driving to and from class in a brand new Ferrari. And that was her other problem. Living off the grid in America these days was damn near impossible. She’d already had to switch her identity and run like hell twice, because her careless flaunting of her wealth tended to raise eyebrows. The old family inheritance/trust fund baby excuse only worked for so long before people started wondering why she wasn’t on the cover of People next to Paris Hilton and the other spoiled little rich girls. Ninety five percent of Kat’s money now rested safely in offshore banks, scattered across the globe. Ten million here, thirteen million there…she pitied the poor soul who ever tried to track her down. Not even she could access her accounts without jumping through more hoops than Shamu at Sea World. So, when her damned house had burned down in a freak accident last month, she’d been up shit creek without a paddle. She couldn’t make an insurance claim without raising some red flags about her financials. She couldn’t sue the dumbass who’d plowed into her house driving a propane truck for the same reason. She didn’t keep enough funds readily accessible to buy a new place. Always have a rainy day fund, dear, her mother had said whenever she’d revealed another hiding place for her booze. Kat had never made a rainy day fund. And now, she found herself living in some flea-bag dump motel while she scrambled for money to get herself a new place to live. She was worth at least a billion. And she was currently homeless. Get a job? Part of her actually wanted to. Despite the fact that most Americans would kill for the independence she had, she found herself wanting a normal, working class life. She’d watch TV and sigh with longing at the women who put on their power suits and black pumps every day for their nine to fives, then came home and cooked dinner for the two point five kids and husband, before putting out the trash just beyond the white picket fence and letting the dog out in the backyard to take a piss. The funny thing about corporate America was that no one wanted to hire a twenty nine year old woman who had no education and zero job experience. Apparently, a name, address, and career objective didn’t make a sufficient resume. Which brought Kat to the here and now. Though she had, of course, laughed at the invitation to the Plantation House Masquerade Ball – the invitation that mysteriously appeared in her mailbox year after year, regardless of where she was or what name she was going by at the time – she needed money, and she couldn’t be conspicuous about it. A masquerade where all the rich and chi-chi poopoo’s showed up in disguise on the condition of anonymity? Perfect for snatching up some jewelry and building herself that long overdue rainy day fund. It wasn’t quite the challenge her restless heart 6

longed for but, as her mother used to say whenever she ran out of vodka and had to resort to gin, any port in a storm. “Wanna dance, sweetness?” the voice materialized out of nowhere, its owner so close that she felt the warm puff of his breath against her ear. She jumped and whirled around. Son of a bitch. She hadn’t let anyone sneak up on her in years. It seriously pissed her off, even if the culprit had the kind of body that made her want to throw him down and ride him like the mechanical pony outside the grocery store. The man was tall, her 5’5” frame didn’t even top his shoulders. He was broad shouldered and muscular, wearing a sleeveless vest that was left unbuttoned, revealing the smooth, defined planes of his chest and the sculpted sixpack of his abdomen. The ridges of his hips were chiseled lines, forming a ‘v’ below his six-pack. There wasn’t an inch of fat on the man. His skin was a dark, golden color, and his torso was almost entirely hairless, save the flaxen trail that began just beneath his navel and blazed a suggestive path down to the waistband of his black jeans, which hugged his ass so tight they might as well have been painted on. And that ass…good god, it should have been a sin to have an ass that fine. His face was hidden behind a simple black mask. Dark brown eyes watched her with a hint of amusement as she studied him. Dusty blond hair, cropped short around his head, formed tight little ringlets that should have made him look effeminate, but didn’t. Oh, hell no, there was not a single feminine thing about this guy. He screamed testosterone. “I don’t think so, thank you.” “Not even if I make it interesting?” he tempted. Kat’s eyes narrowed. Potential sex god in the flesh or not, she had a mission. Keep your eye on the prize, kitten, her mother used to say whenever she’d leave for the liquor store. “I doubt that you could. But again, thank you.” She pushed past the stranger and headed to another corner of the room. “If not a dance,” he was at her side again, and she knew he hadn’t followed her, “how about a wager?” “You know, I’m actually tired. I think I’ll go find myself a way home.” “But you haven’t stolen a single thing yet, sweetness,” he said, wagging one finger. “And it isn’t like you to leave without the prize. What was it your mother always said about that?” She froze mid-stride. This was bad. This was very, very bad. She wracked her brain in an effort to identify the guy. Someone from her past, obviously. Her long ago past, when everyone knew her as that poor child with the drunk mother and absent father. “What do you want?” she hissed turning to face him again. Her face was a perfect mask of nonchalance. “Hush money? Commission? A special job?” “I already told you, I want a wager.” His eyes sparkled behind his mask. “What kind of wager?” “A challenge. A…game of sorts.” Flash of perfect, white teeth. “With a prize for the winner, of course.” “What kind of prize?” Kat tried to be discreet in her studying of him. She liked his smile. His lips were full and appeared to be deceptively soft. Oh, baby, what that mouth would look like between my thighs… “If you win? Anything you like.” He swept his arms in a wide circle. “Whatever your heart desires.” She snorted. “Suppose what I want is a PhD, a job, and a little house with a white picket fence?” He snapped his fingers. “Done.” This time she rolled her eyes as she snorted. “And if you win? What’s your prize?” She swore his eyes flashed red. “You.” Oh, it goddamn figures. “So I win, I get everything I desire. You win, you get a one night stand?” She was rolling her eyes again. “I didn’t say one night stand, sweetness. I was thinking something more permanent than that.” 7

“Marriage?” I don’t care if you are Mr. GQ, I like my men fast, hard, and gone by sunrise. Mr. GQ laughed. He threw back his head and roared, actually, golden curls shivering in the sconced light of the ballroom. Kat scowled at him. She didn’t like being laughed at. “Alright then, what? Lock me in a cage in your bedroom as your own personal sex slave?” “My temple, actually. But close enough.” “Oh, this is so fucking ridiculous,” she sighed and turned to walk away again. “It might be,” he said, “or it might get you everything you’ve ever wanted. Come on, Kaitlin, after years of ignoring my invitation, are you really going to walk away without hearing me out?” She swore and whirled around. He had to be someone from her past. High school, maybe? “So you know my name. Congratulations, Mr. GQ.” “The name’s Ares,” he corrected. An awkward silence fell between them as they studied each other. Honestly, she did want to stay and hear him out. Wasn’t like she had anything better to do. If she did leave early, she’d just go back to her shitty hotel room, eat some shitty Chinese take-out, and watch some shitty horror movie on HBO. But her stubborn streak wouldn’t let her surrender. No way in hell. “The boat doesn’t leave for at least two hours anyway, sweetness,” he supplied. “What’s the harm in listening?” “Fine, I’ll dance with you, and you can tell me all about this little wager,” she offered, suddenly feeling restless. He was watching her too closely. Like he really did have plans to put her on display in a cage. Like he’d be more than willing to show her exactly what his mouth would look like on her body. His lips curled into a half smile. “I don’t dance, sweetness.” “Then why the hell did you ask me to?” He shrugged, and the thick muscles of his biceps rippled. “It was a line.” He watched her gaze travel down his arms, and flexed them for her with an arrogant smirk. “Oooh, is this the part where you regale me with your physical attributes?” “Maybe.” “Tell me, what do you have that the zucchini in my fridge doesn’t, pal?” His eyes flashed that odd crimson shade again before he leaned in close to her ear. “Natural lubrication.” He had a point there. A good one, actually. Petroleum jelly was expensive stuff. Her nipples tightened traitorously, proving that no matter what her mind said, her body was indeed interested in his attributes. She hoped he hadn’t noticed. He chuckled, those strange, ever-changing eyes sweeping along her curves. Oh yea, he’d noticed. “So what’s this challenge, Mr. GQ?” She changed the subject. “Somewhere in the house is a diamond. You’re going to steal it.” “Uhm…” she said, nodding towards the center of the room where at least three dozen couples were dancing, each woman sporting large quantities of expensive jewelry. He pressed a finger to her lips. “Not just any diamond, sweetness. The Areopagus Diamond.” Kat couldn’t help it. Her jaw dropped. “You lie,” she whispered. The Areopagus Diamond was a blood red stone dating back to ancient Greece. Or so the story went. There was no actual proof that the gem still existed, or ever had for that matter. “I don’t lie. It’s here. Find it, steal it, and you win.” “And if I don’t find it, I lose?” “You got it.” “And what will you be doing while I’m looking? Sitting back and drinking coffee?” “Not likely, Kat,” he traced her upper lip with his finger, and she fought the urge to suck it into her mouth. “I’ll be distracting you.” 8

Uh, huh. Piece of cake. If this diamond did exist, she’d find it and steal it. At the very least it was something to do. “You have a deal.” For the fourth time, she tried to walk away from him. “Sweetness?” “My name is not sweetness, you overzealous swine.” “You don’t like it when I use your real name, and the last time someone called you ‘baby’ you stabbed a pen into his balls,” Ares responded with a shrug. “So come up with something better, and I’d be happy to oblige.” She rolled her eyes. Again. Keep doing that and they’re going to get stuck that way, her mother always said. “That outfit isn’t well suited for combat, is it, sweetness?” Kat glanced down at her cocktail dress – a little silver number that was slit so far up the side she’d been forced to forgo panties – and shrugged. “There,” Ares said. “As much as I enjoyed the dress, this is much better.” A second glance down revealed that her dress was gone. She was now clad in a black bodysuit. Correction, it would have been a bodysuit had someone not cut out the midriff leaving everything from the ridge of her hips to the undersides of her breasts bare. How the fuck…? She gave him an incredulous stare. “First, I want to know how you did that. And second, I want you to take this outfit back to the skank police. Why not just put me in a damn bikini?” He smirked. Flash of red in his irises again. “I’m not going to answer your first question, it’s my secret. For your second question, no. My challenge, my rules. I pick the outfits. Did I forget to mention that?” “Who are you?” “Ares,” he repeated. “Yea, yea,” she waved her hand. “I know, masquerade of the gods and all that shit. You’re Ares, I’m Athena. But who are you really?” “Athena is over there, sweetness,” he tipped his head towards the dance floor where a tall, welltoned woman was dancing, long red hair flowing behind her like water. “And it’s a damn good thing you aren’t her, because I hate that bitch.” “Yea, she kicked your ass, huh?” It was Kat’s turn to smirk. She may not have finished college, but she wasn’t a stupid woman. And she knew her Greek mythology decently well. “That stupid cow did not kick my ass,” he growled, stalking towards her. Oops. Struck a nerve. “You got it, chief.” “That tongue of yours is trouble.” Ares took hold of her chin and angled her face to peer up at him. “It’s much better suited for other things.” He bent to claim her mouth, stopping when his lips just barely brushed against hers. “But that will come soon enough.” Just as quickly he had retreated, walking away from her. “One last rule, Kat. You only have until dawn.” *** Four hours later, Kat was pissed. This wasn’t a challenge, it was a damned practical joke. How was she putting her thieving skills to use by going on a treasure hunt in a house the size of the Miami? She’d been through every room. Twice. Even though she swore the place was growing, and that it was three times larger on the inside than out. She was now back near where she had started, in one of the bedrooms off the same hallway as the ballroom. She’d go through the house again . What other option did she have? She’d take every damn painting off every damn wall and move every damn piece of furniture. Damn! The night hadn’t been a total wash, she had to admit. She had a diamond tennis bracelet worth at least ten g’s stuffed in her bra, and a ruby necklace with platinum and diamond accents hidden in her sock. The first she’d swiped out of a woman’s purse in one of the powder rooms. The second, right off 9

the chick’s neck where she was passed out in one of the fifteen bedrooms. twenty thousand dollars, give or take a few. Not enough for a new house, but enough to tide her over for a while. It was a shame she hadn’t managed to get her hands on the choker she’d caught sight of in the ballroom, worn by the woman Mr. GQ had claimed was Athena. But when Kat had snuck up on her near the bar, the woman had whirled around and snarled a warning in what sounded like Greek; her eyes had flashed gold – not as striking as the crimson flames of Ares’ gaze, but intimidating enough for Kat to half run in the opposite direction. The entire affair was completely fucked. “Making progress, sweetness?” Ares’ smug voice interrupted her silent bitching. She looked up and saw him standing in the doorway, one hand braced against the wooden frame over his head. His vest was gone, and so was his mask, revealing a regal, aquiline nose and graceful cheekbones. Oh, the man was just lickable. Never turn down an opportunity for a good time, her mother had always said whenever she’d introduced Kat to a new beau, which was about twice a week. She scowled. “You know what they say, doll,” he took a step towards her and crossed his arms over his chest, highlighting his pecs in such a way that Kat was tempted to reach out and catch one of his perfectly crafted nipples between her teeth. Would being this man’s eternal sex slave really be all that bad? “That accepting a wager with a man who thinks he’s a Greek god is stupid as hell?” He cocked his head to one side. “Haven’t heard that one. No, they say that sometimes the best way to solve a problem is to take a step back from the situation. Take a break. Perhaps the solution will present itself.” “Take a break? Alright, pass me a cigarette and I’ll take a break,” she held out her hand. He grabbed her wrist and jerked her forward. She slammed into the solid surface of his chest, and his other hand snaked around her waist to hold her firmly against him. “You really are a backwards little girl, Kat.” “Am I now?” She made a half-assed attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. “You smoke after the mind-numbing orgasm, sweetness, not before.” His eyes were burning – literally. The flames within them leapt and danced. Kat was lulled by the movement. “Tempting,” she managed to gasp. “But I’m busy.” “Just the one for now,” he countered, and his arm moved lower to knead the flesh of her ass. “The multiples come later. You agreed to take a break.” “Mr. GQ, I like my men—” “Fast, hard, and gone by sunrise?” he quoted. “I know. And I like my women tied up, at my mercy, and screaming my name. You know what they say about opposites, don’t you?” “You’re a bastard,” she seethed. “The diamond is not here.” “I told you, sweetness, I don’t lie. It’s here.” “I’ve searched every fucking corner of this house!” she raged. “No, you haven’t,” he arched an eyebrow at her. “I have so!” “Then you need a break before you try again.” That devilish hand had left her ass and was creeping around her side, grazing the sensitive flesh near her breasts. “I don’t want a break,” she said. Her nipples were so hard it was painful. “No?” He twisted his body ever so slightly and her breasts rubbed against his chest. She tried to trap the moan before it escaped her lips. Christ, she was already getting wet and he’d barely touched her. She realized he’d released his grip on her wrist, and her arms were now dangling limply at her sides. He wasn’t holding her against him any longer; she was pressing herself against him. So much for self control, toots. “This top,” he slipped his hand between their bodies and tugged at the black fabric, “needs to go.” 10

And just like that, it was gone. The diamond bracelet that had been hidden in her bra was secured to her wrist, and the ruby necklace she’d put in her sock appeared around her throat. His skin sizzled against hers, it scorched her. She hissed and pulled back, the pale skin of her breasts red and mottled, as if she’d gotten into a bath that was too hot. “You’re on fire.” “Little girl,” he chuckled, cupping one breast in his palm, “I am fire.” His kiss was exactly how she expected it to be, hard and hot. He didn’t waste any time being timid – a mistake most men made – but instead thrust his tongue into her mouth the moment their lips met. Ares assaulted her mercilessly, every bit the conquering warrior god, and when he finally pulled away she was breathless and trembling, his arm around her waist the only thing keeping her upright. Okay, maybe I can take a little break. “This looks perfect on you,” Ares said, brushing his fingers over the rubies of the necklace before slipping lower to pinch a nipple. Everywhere he touched her, she burned. And she liked it. “Get on your knees,” he ordered, pushing her down until she was eye level with his groin. He unzipped his fly to free his erection with one hand, and grasped the back of her skull with the other. He stroked his length once before wrapping his fist around the base and directing her head forward. Kat struggled with him for a moment and rocked back on her heels, wanting to examine what she had to work with. Sweet Jesus, the man really was a god. No mortal had a cock that perfect. And if he could use it as well as he could flaunt it, she was in for a good time, indeed. She leaned forward and took the tip of him into her mouth. Kat closed her eyes and ran her tongue along the crown, laving the sensitive skin, enjoying the silky smoothness. Ares grunted his approval and she withdrew, running her lips along his shaft, pausing to deliver light flicks of her tongue to all the right places. Another grunt from him. A wicked grin from her. The pressure on her hair increased, telling her what he wanted, and she opened her mouth wider, taking in his length at a slow, steady pace. Kat gagged when he hit the back of her throat, but he continued to pull her head forward, not letting her stop. One more thrust of his hips and she’d swallowed him completely. Then she began to suck, a gentle pressure, cheeks hollowing. Kat place one hand on his flat, chiseled stomach and reached down to cup his balls with the other, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Harder,” Ares demanded. She complied and fisted her hand closed, increasing the pressure on his scrotum until she heard him hiss. He groaned and rocked his hips, sliding in and out of her mouth. His movements quickened, becoming more insistent as he neared release. Suddenly he pulled her away and hauled her to her feet. She grinned at him. “I wouldn’t expect a man like you to spill the goods so soon.” “I’m a god, sweetness, I can go all night.” He spun her around and backed her up against the wall, willing away her pants the same way he had her top. Strong hands grasped her ass, lifted her up, and she brought her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at the small of his back. She wrapped her arms around his neck. His cock nudged against her, seeking entrance. Kat rolled her hips, loving the feel of his shaft gliding through her slick folds. The zipper of his jeans scraped her inner thigh as she moved, and she moaned in approval. Something clicked in her brain. A man like that, looking as he did, flaunting his body left and right as he had been all night, preferred to leave his pants on when doing the nasty? Not likely… “Oh, you are goddamn kidding me.” She pulled her head back to glare at him. “Take them off.” His mouth twitched. “Giving up, Kat?” “No, looking in one last place.” She jerked her head. “Take them off.” “I can make you scream just as loud with them on.” “I want my diamond.” She tried to push him over, tiny hands against his broad chest. Her nails raked his skin, leaving a trail of bloody red welts in their wake. “This will never do, sweetness,” he said calmly. 11

She was lifted off of him by unseen hands and flung onto the bed. Before she could react, her hands were bound to the headboard above her, her feet to the footboard, leaving her splayed wide for his hungry, appreciative gaze. “Asshole,” she snarled, blowing a strand of hair away from her eyes. “I told you this was how I liked it, Kat,” he said with a shrug. The scratches she’d left on his torso only moments before were gone. He winked at her and pulled off his jeans, tossing them onto the floor beside the bed; teasingly close, yet impossibly far. “You should have known it was coming.” “Come near me and I’ll bite your ass,” she threatened. “Do you promise?” “Fuck you!” “That’s the plan, sweetness. Do you know when I first decided I wanted you, Kaitlin?” The warrior god stalked her steadily, confidently. Hell, she was tied to a bed, she couldn’t go anywhere. But he seemed to take great pleasure in letting her know just how completely she was at his mercy. “Do you remember Prague, 1997?” She smirked. She sure did. She’d made three million dollars on that particular trip. “I had no idea you were a fan.” “I’m not.” He towered over her, tipped her face up to meet his gaze. “The night after you stole the painting. Do you remember that?” The smirk mutated into a scowl. Yes, she remembered that, too. “How many of them were there? Three?” “Four.” “Three of them had guns.” She nodded. She didn’t want to think about this at all. “You let the last one live.” Another nod. She’d cut off his balls with her pocketknife, but she hadn’t killed him. He was a nice, happy eunuch somewhere in Eastern Europe. “The rest you made suffer.” “Fuckers,” she spat before she could stop herself. “Most definitely,” Ares agreed. “You are a warrior, Kat. You remind me of my daughters, who were always more than happy to show a man his place.” Daughters… Her mind worked furiously, running through her knowledge of Greek mythology for what seemed like the millionth time that night. “The Amazons.” He nodded and trailed two fingers down her cheek. “So strong. Never afraid of anything, not even me.” “Did you want to put them in cages, too?” His fingers dipped lower, tracing her collarbone, down her arm. “Do you think a mortal man can appreciate who you truly are, Kat?” “Who am I?” “A warrior.” He brushed his hand over her nipple and she shivered. “I sneak through the shadows, I don’t fight.” “Oh, but you do. You fight everything, and you survive. Those men in Prague, your mother. You’re fire on the inside. You’re the same as me.” “I’m mortal,” she countered. Rather a big difference there. “At the moment.” He palmed one of her breasts, testing the weight in his hand. Then he climbed onto the bed and straddled her, leaning forward to capture her lips before sliding lower, and then lower still, until his mouth was poised between her thighs. He really didn’t waste any time on foreplay, Kat noted with a smile. Neither did she. Minutes earlier, he’d been selfish in their encounter, but now he seemed hell-bent on her pleasure. She shivered in anticipation; his breath was an inferno against her. 12

“Well?” she peered down at him. He looked just as good between her thighs as she’d thought he would. “Do you need an anatomy lesson or— Oh, fuck…” Her sarcasm was cut short by his tongue plunging deep into her silken heat, moving with firm strokes, in and out. She felt, rather than heard, the deep rumble of his laughter, and it sent vibrations through her sex that pushed her to the brink of release. She’d never gotten this far this fast. Damn, the man was skilled. Just when she began to tremble, and knew she was going to come, Ares pulled away, lifting his head to look at her. “How’m I doing, sweetness?” he asked. “Jesus, don’t stop!” she gasped. He chuckled and gave her a slow lick, smoldering the entire length of her. “What was that?” “Ares, please!” she shrieked. She was so fucking close… He licked her again before attacking her clit, his tongue drumming an insistent rhythm against the unsheathed bud. He pushed two fingers into her and hooked them upwards to stroke her g-spot. She came hard, the restraints biting into her wrists as she bucked against him. Ares didn’t coax her through her orgasm, didn’t soothe her. He crawled up her body, a predator stalking his prey. His cock pulsed against her, long and hard, and she whimpered. He grasped her hair and jerked her head back, exposing her pale, slender neck. Ares ran his lips along the column of her throat, biting and nipping at regular intervals. Rough and hard, just the way she liked it. “Ares,” she moaned. “Untie me.” “I like you tied up, Kat,” he replied. “But I want to touch you.” She met his gaze with a lusty one of her own. “Please.” “Do you surrender then?” She bit her lip. “Yes.” “You’ll be mine?” “Yes.” The restraints disappeared. She ran one hand down his stomach and curled her fist around his cock. The other she stretched out beside her, searching…Got it. The vase connected with the back of his head before he could react. He pulled back, dazed but still conscious, one hand flying to the wound, which was beginning to bleed. “Bitch!” he hissed. Kat didn’t pause. She brought up her knee and shoved it into his balls as hard as she could. He rocked back farther still, taking his weight off of her pelvis. She flipped onto her stomach and crawled towards his discarded pants, which lay in a heap on the floor by the bed. Just a little farther… Her hand closed around the denim of one pant leg just as she felt a strong fist clamp around her ankle. Shit! He yanked her back under him, but she managed to stay on all fours and take the pants with her, clutched between her hands in a vice-like grip. He’s going to kill me. He’s going to— Ares slid into her from behind, hilting in one fluid motion. Kat keened loudly, and she heard him growl as he found his rhythm, fast and deep. No time for her body to adjust, no time to savor the new sensations. “Give up, sweetness,” he groaned. His hands burned imprints onto her hips, her sex felt like liquid fire wrapped around his cock. “You’re mine.” She was fumbling with the jeans, searching for the pockets. Where were they? Oh, God, he felt good. He was filling her, stroking her in all the right places, and she felt a scream coil in the back of her throat, his name ready and willing on her tongue. Pay attention! Find the diamond! her mind shrieked at her, even as her body was responding to him, rocking backwards to meet his thrusts. She wasn’t about to give up, but she didn’t want him to stop, either. He curled his body forward and one of his hands snaked around her waist to tease the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs. Kat fumbled with the jeans’ pockets, shoving her hand in first one, then the other. Nothing! She was going to come again, and she knew that if she couldn’t find the diamond before she did, he’d win. She’d lose that last bit of control that she had. 13

His cock pounded against her g-spot – unrelenting, merciless. Just the way she liked it. His fingers stroked her faster, harder, assaulting her hypersensitive clit with a ferocity that had her whimpering, mewling his name. Then, just as her eyes began to roll, her head thrashing from side to side, she saw it, a small pocket sewn into to inside of his jeans. There! As the beginnings of her orgasm overtook her, she slipped one tiny hand into the hidden pocket and pulled out the small, bloodred stone. He was a god – he was her god – but she had won. Kat screamed her release, and her triumph. Ares roared. For a moment, Kat again thought that he would kill her, but then he, too, was coming, bathing her womb in the molten lava of his release. *** Kat opened her eyes, and was greeted by the soft, rosy hues of the dawning sun trickling in through the windows near the bed. Out past the island’s shores, the water rippled in oranges, pinks, and reds. The molten waves reminded her of the warrior god’s eyes. Ares… She sat up in the bed and turned, searching for him. He was gone – the other side of the bed cold and empty. How long ago had he left? Had he been real at all? Suddenly she wasn’t sure. If it’s too good to be true, kiddo…her mother always said. Kat climbed out of bed and began the hunt for her clothing. She’d gotten naked with someone, the dull ache between her thighs was evidence that at least one thing about the previous night hadn’t been a dream. She caught sight of her reflection in the full-length, antique mirror by the door. A handprint graced her right hip, crimson and glowing. She twisted to the other side and found a matching print on her left hip. Her dress reappeared on her body, hugging her curves, curves which still burned in the aftermath of the warrior god’s touch. The stolen jewelry remained where it was, adorning her neck and wrist; she doubted it much mattered now if she flaunted her thievery. She turned to look at him – Ares stood just inside the door, leaning against the wall, one foot propped in front of the other. He was now clad in black leather pants and a black t-shirt sporting the logo of a little-known goth rock band. His eyes were a rich, chocolate brown. “You said you would surrender.” “Yea, I know.” The jagged edges of the Areopagus Diamond cut into her hand. “You lied to me.” There was incredulity in his voice, a first. “You’re the one who doesn’t lie.” She shrugged. “I never made such a claim. Besides, if I had surrendered, if I had stopped fighting, it would have gone against everything that you say I am. Would you have still wanted me?” His silence was her answer. After a pause, he sighed. “Very well, you win. What was it you wanted? White picket fence, job, PhD, right?” Suddenly, the things she’d longed for didn’t sound so appealing. Kids? An accountant for a husband? Puh-lease. She was always going to be a wildcat, whether she liked it or not. “Actually,” she said, slinking up to him and wrapping a slender leg around his waist, “I’ve changed my mind about my wish. Unless, of course, that’s against your rules as well.” “What would you like?” He lifted an eyebrow, eyes flaming. She grinned and dropped the diamond into his open palm, then pulled his head down to whisper into his ear, “I want you to cage me.”

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About the Author A writer and musician at an early age, Kayleigh Jamison wrote her first novella at the age of seven, and first picked up a violin at eight. By eighteen, she had won several state and regional awards for the performance arts, recognizing her accomplishments in violin, viola, and oboe. Unable to resist the lure of the past, Kayleigh finds herself particularly drawn to certain periods of world history, and has spent extensive time studying Stuart Scotland and Tudor England, most specifically the reign of Mary, Queen of Scots. With a Bachelors degree in English and Philosophy and a Certification in Legal Studies, Kayleigh spends her days attending law school and her nights immersed in the rich fantasy worlds of her imagination. She also loves to travel, and has spent time in such places as Scotland, Russia, and Peru. She currently lives in northeast Florida, ten miles from the Atlantic Ocean, with her two cats, Angel and Jack. To stay up to date with Kayleigh's writing, visit her author site at www.kayleighjamison.com

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