Spanking Lady Willow

Excerpt

Chapter One

"Did I hear you right? You're going to make love to a stranger?" Elisa asked.

Sasha Borden took in her sister's bewildered, wide-eyed expression. She smiled as Elisa lifted her Cosmopolitan to her lips.

"No. I'm going to fuck him," Sasha said.

Elisa sputtered and coughed over her drink, making heads turn in the classy C'est La Vie Lounge.

No doubt, the Suits surrounding them were shocked and appalled by their loud cackles and unladylike language, Sasha thought with another animated smile. Sensible women, the ones who frequented this particular establishment, were supposed to "be quiet and look pretty," as Elisa often said.

"My god, Sasha, why would you do such a careless thing?" Elisa whispered, now leaning over the table. Her cheeks, neck, and chest had turned a deep shade of pink. Her gaze suddenly drawn to Elisa's blaringly visible breasts peeking out above the sheer camisole of her white blazer, Sasha cocked a brow. She was amazed her sister wore something other than the strangling turtleneck for which she was known.

"Because that's what careless people do, sis. I need passion in my life, a reason to look forward to the future. My life has been so bleak lately, and when Gage and I were together, we never did anything special." She laughed softly, although deep down it hurt to bring up the past relationship. "And in bed, it was always the missionary position without any enthusiasm. There's more to sex than that. There's more to life, and I'm going to experience it."

An image of her handsome ex wormed its way into her mind. Chiseled, whiskered face. Brooding, dark brown eyes that used to spark her inner vixen. Shoulder-length, chestnut hair pulled back in a ponytail—typical biker style. He had a reckless, dangerous way about him that pulled her in right from the beginning. But looks were deceiving. What she thought would be a beautiful, everlasting marriage, turned out to be wishful thinking. Disappointment coiled in her stomach. She fingered the toothpick spearing the olive in her martini, suddenly wishing she'd ordered a scotch, instead. When she looked up, Elisa’s brows were drawn together and her expression looked bleak.

"Did you ever tell Gage you wanted more? I mean, he's such a sweet guy; maybe it was simple misunderstanding. Maybe he thought that's what you wanted." Elisa stared at Sasha, her gaze sharp, waiting for an answer. "Well, did you say anything to him?"

Sasha rolled her eyes, in preparation of the forthcoming, unwanted, sisterly advice. "No."

"Well, little one, men need to be told what to do. If you don't speak your mind, you'll never get what you want. And trust me, some men need you to be blunt about it, or they'll never figure you out. Think of them as puppies. When you cuddle and pet them and tell them what to do—they listen."

Sasha laughed over the mental picture. "And when you don't?"

Elisa giggled. "They piss on the floor, and then it's up to you to scold them." Elisa took another sip of her cocktail, then dabbed her burgundy-tinted lips with a linen napkin.

Shocked by the casual way Elisa had dispensed such explicit advice, Sasha simply stared at her, dumbfounded. Her sister was the epitome of beauty and grace, although her view of men put a certain harshness to her attitude. Since when did Elisa view men in such a dim light? Poor Harry, Sasha thought. An unwanted image of her brother-in-law kneeling naked before her sister's heeled feet made her shudder.

Although Elisa was forty—ten years Sasha's senior—you'd never know it. With curly, brunette hair teased to perfection, along with stunning make-up, the woman was a goddess . . . the exact type most people were afraid to approach. Perfect and stiff as a board. She probably cared more about her appearance than having a good, screaming orgasm. How could she possibly know what to ask for? Elisa didn't seem the type to lose her inhibitions or even break a sweat.

Had she misjudged her sister all along?

Sasha knew what she wanted; she just didn't know how to ask for it, which was probably why her marriage had fallen apart. She and Gage may have been married for five years, but you'd think by the way they communicated with each other, they were bumbling newlyweds regretting signing their life away. If only they could've talked more openly, but Gage never gave her the time of day, and she didn't know how to voice her wants and needs.

Owning and operating a custom bike shop kept him on a tight schedule, and when he did have time at home, he spent it watching television. The odd time they banged, it was always over far too quickly. They'd been separated for over a year, and with the divorce papers set to be signed next week, Sasha figured it was time to experience the dating scene. Gage didn't seem to have any troubles getting around with young, barely legal women; why shouldn't she feel the same excitement?

Forcing Gage out of her mind, Sasha cast a teasing glance at her sister. "Did you get your tits done?"

Elisa's eyes bulged for a second, and then she giggled. "No. Why?"

"They look bigger today."

Elisa settled back in her chair and pursed her lips, before a stunning smile lit her face. "I bought a push-up bra, and a few other outfits from that new boutique down the street. Harry loves it. He can't keep his hands off me." Her face glowed with happiness.

Sasha grinned. "Did you suck him off for the money, like in Goodfellas?"

Elisa gasped, and fresh color tinted her cheeks. "Of course not! What's the matter with you? You're acting so strange. Besides, Harry gives me whatever I want. Happy wife—happy life."

She snorted. "Must be nice. Tell me, El, have you ever . . . you know . . . gave him a blowjob?"

Elisa darted a glance around the room and leaned farther over the table. "Yes and no."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Her sister made an exasperated noise. "I mean, I do, but I don't let him . . . you know . . . ."

"Come in your mouth?"

They both erupted in raucous laughter. This time, their onlookers scowled and shook their heads in obvious distaste. Moments later, a waiter came to the table and shushed them. The second he turned his stiff back and walked away, they giggled some more.

"I joined a group, where members' fantasies are brought to life, but I can't tell you all the details. New people can join once a month. You don't have to do anything if you don't want to, and nobody knows who anyone else is." Sasha smiled, remembering her recent chat with the man they'd linked her to: Phoenix. "I chatted with my match online, and we agreed to meet at the next joining."

Elisa looked as if she'd seen a ghost. "The next joining? God that sounds weird. What if he's a rapist or a murderer? I can't believe this—"

"Well, believe it. Master Beckwith has assured us safety and privacy at his home. It’s not like I’ll be in some secluded cabin in the woods alone with this guy. So, don’t worry, sis." She sighed, anxiety and excitement making her heart pound. For the first time in a long time, Sasha looked forward to something. "He doesn't sound like a loser, El, and besides, every member goes through a screening process precisely for that reason. It's perfectly safe, and they set you up with a person of similar tastes. I’m so excited to meet him tonight."

"Oh, my god." Elisa finished the rest of her drink in one swallow. "I'd never have the balls to do something like that."

Sasha laughed. "You wouldn't need to. You're married to a stud."

Elisa smiled the kind of smile she wore when naughty ideas bloomed. "Maybe I'll encourage something naughty tonight." She checked her watch. "Oh! Speaking of that, I promised to meet Harry for a drink at the pub. When do you meet your mystery lover?"

"The party begins at midnight."

"Well, good luck and be safe, my love. And don't dare tell our mother what you're doing. She'll call the cops or something. You know she still thinks you and Gage will work things out." Elisa stood, came around the table, and gave Sasha a quick hug. She whispered in her ear. "Tell me all about it in the morning, and I'll let you know how my night went."

"Say hi to Harry for me."

They giggled like a couple of schoolgirls again and parted ways.

A short time later, Sasha headed home with a few hours to kill before the masquerade.