The Velvet Chair
(Velvet Lies #1)
Publication date: February 6th 2017
Genres: Erotica, Romance
“Oh, darling. You’re going to be so easy to conquer.” His finger reached under my chin and pulled my face back to meet his. “I can’t wait to strip you out of that dress and watch you crawl around my home naked. I’m going to spank that delectable ass with every damn pervertible I can find. Hairbrushes, wooden spoons, spatulas, and I might even try a damn baking sheet. That ass of yours is always going to be prettily pink and perfectly swollen while you’re under my roof.”
My name is Mark Matthews. I own half of London, and the part I don’t own, I’m working on.
Life was all going swimmingly well until Michael Redcliff entered my life, demanding that I marry his daughter. Actually, swap demand for blackmail. He’s got goods on me that I want no one else to see, so for the time being I need to be his little lapdog.
I’ll marry his daughter. I’ll give him all the status, money and power he can handle… for as long as it takes me to get a divorce. You see, I can’t renege on our little arrangement – but she can. I give her a week. One week and she’ll be screaming the place down for her legal counsel.
I am never wrong.
Half an hour later, I began peeling the plastic, dry-cleaning wrap off the ‘uniform’ that had been so thoughtfully provided. It didn’t take a genius to realise that this was no ordinary dress. While in essence it appeared to be a very cute French maid’s outfit, there was a lot less to it than the normal ‘adult shop’ version. Knowing I was going to regret this, I slipped it over my head and made my way to the floor-to-ceiling mirror located just outside the bathroom. Although I could already feel the parts that were obviously missing, I couldn’t resist a gasp of horror as the evidence was revealed in black and white. Oh. My. God.
For starters, nothing covered my breasts. They were left to hang bare. Actually, it was worse than that, because there was this delicate ruff of white lace beneath them that actually accentuated the fact that they were completely naked. Then there was a black, lightly boned panel that cinched in my waist, before filtering into a sheer gauze apron that hung from my hips to just past my crotch. It covered nothing. I could clearly see the outline of my sex through the garment. There was no way I could wear this.
Spinning around, I discovered more ruffled lace, rising around my lower back to frame my naked ass. As if that wasn’t enough, I also had a pair of five-inch black stilettos and a small lace cap to complete the lovely ensemble. It appeared I was about to become one of the worst sexual stereotypes in history, and with an extraordinary appalling lack of taste. Stomping around the room, I threw the doors of the wardrobe open wide, only to discover it was bare. Moving to my chest of drawers, I pulled out each one and threw it on the floor as I discovered that they too were empty. Feeling utterly helpless for a moment, I screamed at the top of my lungs. Although I knew no one would come running, it let out a little of the pent up aggression that was threatening to consume me. How dare he. How. Dare. He.
Tearing off the dress, deciding I’d rather walk around naked, I barged from the room and marched down the stairs. My bare feet thumped as hard as they could on each of the stone steps and my fist bumped along the bannister. Bastard. Utter bastard. How could he do this? Tears pricked at my eyes, and I fought them back. This was my first day under Mark’s roof. I would survive.
Storming into the kitchen, it was to find him sitting quietly at the dining table with a copy of The Financial Times in his hands. He was happily whistling ‘With or Without You’ by U2. I wanted to slap him. Paying me no attention, he slowly dragged a black coffee mug up to his lips and murmured appreciatively.
“I refuse to wear this,” I spat angrily.
Christina Mandara is a USA TODAY bestselling author and tends to write dark romance with lashings of kinky naughtiness. Her favourite pastime is travelling, and if it involves sun, sea and… sand then it’s all good.
In her spare time she’s usually cuddled up with a good book, exploring the countryside or baking in the kitchen. In fact, she loves her kitchen so much she’s one of few woman who wouldn’t mind being tied to it! Her first and foremost love is writing, however, and more often than not you’ll find her on a laptop spinning tales of romance, erotica or dark, paranormal fantasies.
She’s a big fan of BDSM in all of its glorious forms, and her favourite item in the toy closet (a box simply isn’t big enough) is her riding crop.
C.P. Mandara’s Sexy Sizzler Newsletter Sign Up: http://bit.ly/1MVubkR
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