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Blurb
My sweet,
sexy Penny has a dark side. Just like me.
I will
have her. And then I will lose her, and suffer a lifetime of regret.
Rampage.
Everyone loves him. He is Redemption's top heavyweight fighter and the biggest
gossip in the gym. But he isn't the teddy bear everyone thinks he is. He's
hiding a dark secret-and he hates himself for it.
Twice a
week, Rampage transforms into Master Jack, a notorious dom only the most
hard-core submissives will play with. How can he-a Southern gentleman, bred to
respect and protect women-want to dominate them?
But Penny
Worthington wants him. Beneath her pearls, kitten heels, and prim British
exterior beats a tortured heart...Master Jack is the only one who can set her
free.
Excerpt
Rampage
tracks me with his gaze as I skirt around the people getting into position on
the mat. He is breathtaking in his crisp, white gi, a worn black belt tied
tight around his narrow waist. Some of the fighters wear T-shirts under their
gis, but I am not so lucky. As I slow to a stop in front of him, I am forced to
endure the visual feast of his truly magnificent chest.
Burn
cheeks burn. “Um…hi.”
“Penny.”
His voice is laced with amusement, thick with his Southern drawl.
“Blade Saw
said you needed a partner.” I amaze myself at my ability to form a coherent
sentence without collapsing in a puddle on the floor.
“So he
sent me a white belt? Did I do something to piss him off?”
My cheeks
heat, and I look up, only to fall into the warmth of his gaze. “No one else is
free.”
A smile
tugs at his lips. “I’m just messing with you, darlin’.”
My insides
turn to mush, and I dip my head so he can’t see just how red my cheeks can get.
Rampage
lies on his mat, propping himself up on his elbows in a semi-recline. His gaze
sweeps over me as I get in position on my knees in front of him. He’s got
guard, which means he has to make me submit, and I have the goal of passing
guard to a dominant position and holding it for three seconds. The irony isn’t
lost on me, but I don’t laugh because his eyes suddenly darken almost to black.
“You
ready?”
Boy, am I
ever. “Yes.” I try to play it cool, like I wasn’t shackled to the ceiling of
his BDSM playroom in my bra and knickers last night, stroked into a frenzy, and
ordered not to touch myself. Like that was going to happen.
“You
understand the drill?” He licks his lips, like a predator about to feast. “When
one of us succeeds in our goal, we stop, and the loser goes back to the end of
the line. The winner stays out and takes guard on the next person in line.”
“You have
to make me submit.” I toy with the ends of my very white belt. “Maybe I should
just go to the end of the line now. You didn’t seem to have any trouble with
that last night.”
“Come here and say that,” he murmurs, patting
his belt. “I’ll give you the advantage of full mount.”
My mouth
goes dry as I crawl up his body and seat myself over his belt, my knees spread
uncomfortably wide on either side of his hips in a fully dominant position.
Something hard and smooth presses against the juncture of my thighs, and I pray
he is wearing a cup because the urge to rock against that delicious hardness is
almost overwhelming.
Rampage’s
corded neck tightens when he swallows. “Move up. Your knees should be under my
arms.”
I shuffle
up, and he grabs my hips and drags me forward until my knees are on either side
of his chest and I can feel the heat of his breath on a place where heat should
not be felt in the middle of a packed Brazilian jiu-jitsu class.
“I think
maybe I’m too close.”
He heaves
in a breath, his eyes glittering as he grips the inside edges of my gi. “Not
close enough.” With a hard yank, he pulls me down until I am laying flat on his
body, my breasts against his chest, my hips against his cup, my hands braced on
either side of his head.
“Full
mount is where you want to be when you’re grappling a bigger, stronger
opponent.” His words whisper over me, his lips so close to mine I only have to
drop a few inches to have a little taste.
“You can
use the strength and power of your own body and the force of gravity to your
advantage.” He pulls me right down, wraps his free hand around me, shifts his
hips and rolls. Before I can catch my breath, I’m flat on my back and Rampage
is on top of me.
“This is
where you don’t want to be as a smaller grappler,” he says. “How are you going
to get out of this?”
The
question isn’t so much how am I going to get out of it but do I want to get out
of it? And with Rampage’s hard, muscular body on top of me, his legs between my
thighs, his hardness pressed tight against the juncture of my thighs, I’m not
sure I do.
Rampage
stills, and his eyes widen.
Bugger.
Did I say that out loud?
“I’m not
sure I want you to either.” His breath is warm against my ear. “But if you
don’t move, we’ll both get kicked out of class. So, what are you going to do?”
“Um…overhook
an arm, bridge and roll, then get on top into the closed guard?”
Rampage
drops his weight, stealing my breath. “Won’t work against a larger opponent.
You need to blast through my hips and use a bit of strength to overturn me.
Strength you don’t have. Your best bet is to escape back to half guard.”
“Okay.” I
wiggle just the tiniest bit against him, seeking more of that delicious
pressure against my clit. With my vibrator on high, I was able to take the edge
off this morning, but with Rampage on top of me, I’m wound up all over again.
A low
growl rumbles in his throat. “You’d better be wiggling ’cause you’re moving
into half guard,” he warns. “Now straighten up and make your transition.”
“This is
as straight as I get,” I mutter. “I’m a woman. Women have curves. I happen to
have a curve in my back, and it wants to stay that way.”
“I can
feel your curves, darlin’. Every one of them. And it’s making it fucking hard
to concentrate. Make your move ’cause if you don’t do it soon, I’ll have to go
out and get a cup.”
I suck in
a sharp breath. “You aren’t wearing a cup?”
“No.”
Don’t
move. Don’t move.
I can’t
help it. I move. Or, more accurately, I grind.
Wham.
Rampage transitions into half guard and flips me onto my front. While I try to
get my knees under me, he straddles me and grabs my hips in his huge hands.
Heat surges through my body, and I groan quietly in my throat. “What are we
doing?”
“Hips up,”
he barks. “Ass down.”
“They’re
connected,” I point out. “Where the hips go, the ass follows.”
Shilla
snorts a laugh and drops to the floor beside me. “Like this.” She stretches her
body out into a perfectly smooth, flat, plank position, holding it with one
hand. On her knuckles. Then she rolls to show me what Rampage wants me to do.
“If my
body was one solid sheet of muscle, I could do that.” I tense my muscles, try
to force myself into a position my body is not meant to go. “However, I have a
weakness for chocolate biscuits, lazy Sundays on a blanket in the park, scones
with clotted cream, and chicken tikka with thick, white naan bread slathered in
butter. Unfortunately, it lowers my middle center of gravity.”
Rampage’s
hands slide over my stomach, his touch firm, arousing my whole body with the
promise of what those fingers could do if they drifted just a little lower. My
mind goes hazy with desire and I can’t tell if I’m flying or if my hands and
feet are still on the floor. I don’t care about jiu jitsu transitions. I don’t
care that Shilla is watching us with curious eyes or that we’re supposed to be
doing a group drill. I don’t care if the whole class is watching us. All I care
about is feeling connected to Rampage and wanting this moment to last forever.
He lifts
me right off the floor, as if I weighed nothing, and pulls me against his broad
chest, my ass against his hips, feet barely touching the mat, his hands firm
around my body. My stomach clenches. My heart pounds. He leans down until his
mouth is so close to my ear, I can feel the heat of his breath.
“I told
you not to touch yourself last night,” he whispers.
A flush of
adrenaline tingles through my body, followed by a thrill of fear. “What are you
going to do about it?”
About the Author:
Sarah
Castille is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the
Redemption Series, Ruin & Revenge Series, Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club
series, Legal Heat series and
the Club Excelsior series. A recovering lawyer with a fondness for dirty-talking alpha males, she now is a full-time writer, who lives on Vancouver Island.
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