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This is an original work of fiction. No AI was used in its creation.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction; the names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
PSA, while this book features elements of kink and BDSM, it is NOT a how-to manual. This is a work of erotic fiction, and everything written here should be treated as such. Always do your research and ALWAYS practice in a SAFE, SANE, and CONSENSUAL manner.
All brand names and products used in this book and its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks, and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and text are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
This story is a high-heat, M/F, older woman/younger man, second chance at love, romance with a pleasure Dom who’s all about her, and a quirky author who never thought the men in romances could ever be real – spoiler alert – they are! ;) If that’s all you needed to know, skip ahead to Chapter One. If you need a little more detail, please refer to the list of content below:
Third Person with Dual POV. She’s 39-40, He's 34-35. Instalust/Instalove. Tattooed MMC and FMC. Close Proximity. Discussion of scars from physical harm, body insecurity, and body positivity (MMC has combat scars). Discussion of kids – MMC has a vasectomy, FMC has a grown daughter. Secondary character nonbinary rep. They talk about sexual desires, wants, needs, and boundaries (consent is continuously confirmed). Explicit sexual scenes with elements of kink, BDSM, exhibitionism, and voyeurism. Lots of profanity, including tons of 'dirty talk'. Pop culture references. So many 'good girl’ vibes. 'There’s no god here. Say my name.’ vibes. He braids her hair. Cat dad. Guaranteed HEA.
Chapter One
The mediator between Addison and her soon-to-be ex slid the divorce papers and a pen toward her. Barry already scrawled his signature above his printed name, and now it’s now her turn. Fucking finally.
Bernard Turner. The name left a bitter taste in her mouth. A smile tipped the corners of her mouth, and relief flooded her system. After today, she never needed to utter it again.
At least he’s eager to get this over with. The unending text notifications vibrating his phone showed Barry needed to get back to his girlfriend, Caroline.
Addie kept her eye roll internal.
Is she bitter that the man who got her pregnant in college and told her he’d be there forever got down and dirty with their neighbor? Not anymore. Barry’s her problem now.
Did rage flow through her veins when she came home from work, ill with the flu, desperate to crawl into her own bed to find Barry and their neighbor Caroline going at it like fucking acrobatic rabbits?
Oh, fuck yeah.
Addie realized then that there was no marriage left to fight for when it was more about the bed she longed to crawl into than the man she spent twenty years with.
Thank goodness their daughter Sadie moved into her dorm a month earlier and missed witnessing the final nail being hammered into the coffin of her parent’s relationship.
The nausea Addie fought all morning gave up the battle. She threw up all over them and the sheets they’d fucked on.
Mortified? She supposed she should be. Was she? Hell. No. It’s not her mess to clean up anymore.
Addie ignored Barry and Caroline’s outrage and the sounds of their retching, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Ugh, she needed a shower. She needed to get the fuck out of this house even more.
She locked herself in the bathroom, brushing her teeth and washing her face while they screamed profanities through the door. Addie put on her noise-canceling headphones and packed her bags.
She wheeled her suitcases out the door while Barry and Caroline sputtered and screeched, still covered in vomit.
Addie recovered enough to enjoy the drive by the time her Uber arrived, ready to take her to the hotel she’d booked. Like the mess she left them in, Barry is Caroline’s problem now….
The mediator cleared his throat. “We’ll need your signature, Mrs. Turner.”
“Mrs. Turner?” Addie shifted in her seat and glared at the insipid man.
Everyone at this table knew she never took her husband’s last name. Barry, being a fucking dick isn’t a surprise. Addie clenched her fists in her lap and bit her tongue. Lesson learned, using the guy he recommended because she wanted to get this over with.
She grabbed the pen and tapped the page. The fiery spirit Barry tried to smother for the past twenty years returned a little more each day. “It’s Ms. Carter, which you’re both more than aware. It even says so right here. Ms. Addison Carter vs. Mr. Bernard Dumb-Fuck-I’m-Glad-He’s-Out-Of-My-Life-Cheating-Bastard Turner.”
Okay, maybe she’s still a little pissed.
Addie met Barry’s scowl over the balding head of the mediator, who appeared to be searching for something. Perhaps he searched for cover.
“Oops, must be my copy.” She tucked it into her purse when she sensed the incoming insults Barry was about to unleash.
Not this time, and never again.
Addie stood first. “Ah-ah. The ink is dry, and your days of belittling me are done.”
The adrenaline kicked in, and she gripped her purse tighter, hiding her shaking hands, wanting out of there.
Addie’s steps faltered when the door closed behind her, and tears of relief clouded her vision. She leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. Then she straightened to her full height and shook the last of Barry’s influence from her shoulders. She’s free and planned to make the most of it.
***
Forty’s the new thirty, right? At least, that’s what Addie wanted to believe while she waited for her friend to answer the phone.
“Addie,” Andrew greeted her, his warm voice a soothing balm on her frazzled nerves. Though, she cringed when he said, “You better be calling to tell me your divorce from that piece of shit is final and not to remind me your birthday is next week. We both know I’d never forget.”
Addie’s deflecting laugh sounded loud and awkward. Shit. She meant to call Andrew after she signed the papers. In the end, she checked out of society and published her first novel to meteoric success.
Double shit. Addie didn’t tell them about that either. She needed to talk to her friends more often and vowed not to leave such gaps between calls or get-togethers.
“Oh, em gee, I’m a terrible friend. We finalized the divorce a while ago. Sorry, I didn’t realize how much time has passed since we last spoke. With everything I needed to do, I-”
“Addie, you don’t need to explain. Tell me you’re okay.”
Addie settled onto her couch with her phone pressed to her ear. “Yeah, I am. Best in years.”
“Well, tell me, what’s going on with you? FYI, you’ll have to repeat it all when Angela calls you back,” Andrew said in an exaggerated whisper. “Her mouth’s occupied, or she’d say hello.”
Her mouth’s what?
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s the middle of the afternoon, Drew.”
“You called me.”
“You answered the phone.”
Addie pulled the phone away from her ear, and Andrew’s laughter filled her apartment. “She’s eating lunch. Get your mind out of the gutter, Carter.”
“You’re such an asshole,” she grumbled with a smile.
“That moniker belongs to your ex-husband, plus I can hear you smiling.”
Ugh, the man knew her too well.
The silence stretched between them until Andrew asked, “What’s going on, Addie?”
She took a deep breath. Of course, Andrew knew there was an ulterior motive for her afternoon call. “I need a favor.”
“Anything. Except for making Barry disappear. I draw the line at murder – even for you. I will, however, be happy to make his life miserable.”
“No murder.” She laughed. “No life difficulties necessary, either. Last I heard, Barry has his hands full with a mess of his creation.”
“Fine. If Barry’s out of your life, I’ll leave him be. What can I do for you?”
Here goes.
She took a deep breath and asked, “Remember the writing I used to do?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you minor in creative writing? I always believed you’d become a writer. I remember asking you about it when I saw you on Sadie’s first birthday. It saddened me when you mentioned you stopped.”
“Life got in the way. What with work, a new baby, and a husband.” She ignored Andrew’s grunt. Addie knew he blamed Barry for making her give up on her dreams.
The thing is, she gave up on herself, too.
“When things ended, and I moved into my apartment, I found an old box of notebooks filled with my stories. In a true Fuck It moment, I revised one and sent it out for submissions. It landed me an agent and publishing contract.”
“Fuck, that’s fantastic, Addison. I’m glad you followed your dreams. Are you still teaching?”
“Nope. I finished the semester, and by summer break, a post about my book went viral, which boosted my sales enough to give notice and pursue this author thing full time.”
“I’m proud of you, Addie.”
“Thanks. Success in this business is based on a lot of luck.”
“I know you’re talented, Addison. Your growing success is more than just luck.”
“Thanks, Drew. I needed to hear that.”
Silence fell between them until Andrew asked, “So, what’s the favor? Need me to read something you wrote?”
Addie blanched. Fuck no.
If Andrew had read The Professor’s Naughty Student, he’d know immediately that Addie based it on the professor she’d crushed on during her first semester of university. He’d never let it go.
Plus, being close friends with him and his wife Angela meant she held intimate knowledge of what went on in their relationship, and reading her WIP in its current state isn’t an option either.
“Oh god, please, no.” She needed some hands-on research first, which is the root of the favor she required from Andrew.
Andrew chuckled. “Okay… on the one hand, it doesn’t surprise me. On the other, I can’t believe you still won’t let me read your stories after all our years of friendship.”
“I mean, maybe once this one’s finished. This favor is for research. I need a guest pass to Decadent.”
“Research? At Decadent?” Addie heard him get up and pictured Andrew pacing while he considered her request.
After the longest minute of her life, he said, “I suspected your stories leaned toward erotic, and I’ve perused your overflowing bookshelves on more than one occasion.”
“You knew?”
“We’re friends. Of course, I did.”
She didn’t want him to regret his agreement and said, “I appreciate how you always remained honest and open with me, and while your relationship fascinates me, it’s not….” Addie searched for the right way to say it.
“It’s not what you desire for yourself or your fictional characters?” Andrew finished for her.
“Yeah, kind of….”
Andrew chuckled. “Addison, I know you’re not yucking our yum. Everyone has different wants and desires, and finding a partner with the same is like finding a needle in a haystack. I’m glad you know what your limits are. It means you have boundaries around what you do and don’t want to try.”
“My editor suggested adding more realism and depth to my current novel.”
“And you believe you’ll gain this depth and realism by visiting a BDSM club?”
“Um, it’s what I’m hoping for. I know passes are expensive, and I hoped you’d be able to pull some strings and get me a discount because you’re tight with the owner.”
“It’s not about the money or pulling strings. If I asked Jasper, he’d have a pass delivered to your front door within the next couple of hours. I want to know if going to the club is right for you. I mean, why not draw from your imagination?”
“Fantasy supplemented my entire sex life with Barry. This is a new beginning for me. I want to experience something more intense and real.”
“I get it, Addie, and you deserve to experience what you want. Angela and I would never kink shame you or anyone.”
“Thanks for understanding, Drew. It’s why I came to you. I know you’d never judge me.”
Addie sighed; showing vulnerability is never easy. “I’m forty next week, and I’ve put everyone’s needs ahead of mine. For once, I want to experience something exciting and new. This is for me. The cherry on top is the added inspiration for my characters. Will you help me?”
“You know I will. One question. Do Angela and I get to read this book when it’s published?”
“If you do, don’t tell me.”
Andrew laughed. “Addie, you’ll need to work on your confidence if you’re serious about this.”
She sighed. “I know.”
***
Two hours later, someone knocked on her door.
Addie peered through her peephole and recognized the tall, muscular man with auburn hair and a beard standing at her door, thanks to her research into Club Decadent.
She didn’t say more than a hello when he held out an envelope and said, “Andrew asked me to give this to you.”
“In person?”
When your best friend is friends with the owner of New York’s most notorious sex club, the idea of a personal delivery never crossed Addie’s mind, yet it’s weirdly unsurprising.
He lowered his mirrored sunglasses, and his hazel eyes dazzled her. “Jasper Jones, at your service,” he said. His deep voice was rough and right up her alley, yet it did nothing for her.
Huh.
She replaced the envelope he held out with her hand. “Addison Carter. Nice to meet you.”
Addison admired his broad shoulders and rugged good looks. The lack of electricity when his large hand wrapped around hers didn’t surprise her. Jasper emitted these distinct ‘I’m taken’ vibes.
“Do you mind if I come in? There are a few things I’d like to discuss with you that are not suited for your public hallway.”
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