Night With a Dom (1 Night Stand Series) Read online

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement (including infringement without monetary gain) is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Night With a Dom

  Copyright © 2012 by Casea Major

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-245-0

  Cover art by LFD Designs

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

  Look for us online at:

  www.decadentpublishing.com

  Also by Casea Major

  One Knight in Brooklyn

  A 1Night Stand Story

  Night with a Dom

  A 1Night Stand Story

  By

  Casea Major

  ~DEDICATION~

  Much love to my critique partners. Many of whom are also my best friends. Thank you, ladies for your encouragement, insight and general camaraderie in an otherwise lonely task.

  Chapter One

  Melody Manning’s fingers flew over her keyboard. She hustled in a concentrated effort to finish the end of the quarter analysis and get the hell out of there.

  Her boss, Adam, ducked his head in her door. “Mel, I need you in my office in five with the Imperial numbers.”

  The Imperial numbers? She’d finished that account with her former boss before he’d left the firm. It had been their special project, and one of the most profitable in company history.

  Jeez. Didn’t Adam know it was one in the afternoon on New Year’s Eve and everyone else had left for the day? A pang of loss shot through her chest. Maybe he knew she had nowhere special to go. Her shoulders sagged, and her chin dropped to her chest. No time to wallow, Mel. Get the man his numbers.

  As his footsteps receded, she rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, “Who does he think he is? Nick Palmer, slave driver extraordinaire?”

  In truth, her new boss, Adam Rodgers, conducted business in no way like the previous one. Unless a big campaign was coming out and he needed additional market analysis, Adam encouraged her to have a life away from the firm. He not only allowed her to leave the office at a reasonable hour, he expected her to. She snorted at the cruel irony.

  In the last six months, she’d had all the personal time she could have wanted. Too bad it had come a few weeks too late. She gulped down the guilt while she pulled up the Imperial Oats file.

  Her instant message flashed, and her pulse quickened. Only one person used IM with her. Pushing aside the urge to open it, she printed the report then stared at the screen. Why should she be scared? Taking a breath, she checked the message. JRivers. A lump formed in her throat. Why would he be instant messaging her on New Year’s Eve?

  Hey, Mel, just wanted to tell you before you found out from friends that I’m getting married. I figured you’d be working and get this message. Ann and I are announcing our engagement tonight at my parent’s party.

  More crazy irony. The party she’d missed last year because of her job would be the same party where he announced his engagement to the new girlfriend. She choked back a sob.

  I’m happy, Mel. I want you to be, too. Don’t work so hard.

  She grabbed the report off the printer and headed down the hall. Her hands shook. Married.

  She barely stayed the floodgates as she entered Adam’s office. Glancing up at the picture behind his desk, she sank into a chair in front of him. He’d hung a large inspirational photo—Positive Attitude—with a picture of the Egyptian pyramids. At least it covered the unsightly hole put there by their former boss during some angry rant.

  “Hey, Mel—” Adam tilted his head and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  His concern broke her dam of control. Waterworks and hysterical ramblings spewed from her. “My ex-boyfriend is getting married. I have no life, even though I have the time now—because you let me have a life, unlike some crazy fuck who never used to let me leave the office until all of his outlandish requests were finished.” She sucked in a ragged breath and started another tirade. “It’s my fault. I pushed the best guy in the world away and—surprise—he found someone else to love.” She dropped her head in her hands. Am I PMSing or what?

  Adam stepped around the desk. His strong hand squeezed her shoulder. “Mel, no one understands more than I do what an ad exec sacrifices to win in this business. And it only gets harder the higher up you go. You do what you have to in order to get ahead. Rachel nearly left me two years ago when I worked under Palmer. He was a demanding ass. But I learned a lot from him, and so did you. You’re the youngest senior analyst in the firm’s sixty-year history. That doesn’t come without a price.” The handsome man sat next to her and placed a Kleenex in her hand. “This was a hard lesson to learn. Not only are you hurt, but you also feel guilty. You need to come to terms with your guilt so you can move past your heartache. Take these next four and a half days to figure out who you are and what it is you want.”

  “How am I supposed to do that in four days?”

  He patted her hand. “I’ve seen the depression in you for the last six months. I’ve thought about giving you a leave, but wondered if that would do more harm than good. You need an epiphany. Something that will get to the source of your guilt and help you overcome it.”

  That sounded reasonable, but where could she find that epiphany on a holiday weekend? “Oh, let’s just go pick that up at Wal-Mart, why don’t we?”

  He placed a gentle finger under her chin and smiled. “Look, this is not advice I would usually give a woman, but in this case I think it’ll help you—”

  She narrowed her gaze. “At this point I’ll try anything. Out with it.”

  “Go get laid. And I mean good and laid. Have a nice, relaxing time with some guy who will rock your world and take your mind off things.”

  The Executive VP of market analysis and demographics just told me to get fucked. What the hell?

  He rummaged through his desk. “Do you remember Ernie over in accounting? Well, he swears by this service. Of course he lives in Maryland now, but this woman set him up with his wife. He came back changed. Ah, here we go.” He pulled out a business card and handed it to her. “Maybe this woman can help you, too. But whatever you do this weekend, I order you to leave the laptop here.”

  “Yeah, right.” She fingered the embossed rectangle. 1Night Stand, Madame Evangeline. Let a 1Night Stand change your life. Then she schlepped back to her office with the card in hand. Adam meant well, but she wasn’t the kind of girl to have a one-night stand.

  She plopped into her chair and stared at the business card. No phone number or address. Only a website and email. She typed in the internet info. A beautiful, fully interactive website appeared. Apparently some kind of matchmaker goddess like that woman on E! Television, Eve found matches for the most unlikely pairs. Humph. I wonder if she can find the counterparts to the orphaned socks in my laundry, too?

  Pages of testimonials, happy couples, and beautiful locations filled the screen. Why couldn
’t she do this? She had her Christmas bonus, and thanks to the first quarter numbers with Palmer, it was substantial. At least the asshole had done something for her besides ruin her life. Rumor had it he was starting his own company and running it out of his home to be closer to his family. Glad he got to keep his homelife intact while her life got flushed down the crapper.

  Rubbing her face, she sighed. “I can’t do this. It’s ridiculous.”

  She needed to go to home and spend the long weekend watching depressing Nicholas Sparks movies and drinking her six bottles of wine from Christmas. Apparently none of her friends knew her anymore, so they’d gotten her booze, the generic workaholic gift. If she drank all that wine, she might end up an alcoholic. Shit. What kind of epiphany was that going to get her?

  The light on her instant message bar blinked. Her stomach churned.

  JRivers. Her teeth cut into her lower lip, and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

  Sorry to bother you again. I forgot to ask. Would you like to take Snickers? Ann is allergic to cats and I can’t keep him. I thought I’d give you first right of refusal. I can bring him by any time this weekend. Just let me know.

  Large teardrops fell into Mel’s lap as she braced her head with her hands. Jason loved that cat—she did, too. He’d had him since college, and now because of their split, he had to give up Snickers for that idiot—Ann.

  Why did people have to give up so much? Compromise what was good in their lives? Jason had stayed with her while she’d worked herself into a promotion and out of his heart. Then he left.

  She blew her nose and dried her eyes. God, I’m acting pathetic. Adam was right. She needed to get laid. “I’m the youngest junior executive in the history of this firm. I work hard. Why shouldn’t I play hard?”

  Maybe that miracle-working Madame Eve could help her. She needed to try. If Eve found her a one-night stand for the weekend, she’d consider it fate. If not, she’d take Snickers and mourn the best guy in the world marrying someone else. After pulling up the site, she filled out the new client form.

  What kind of lover am I looking for?

  Her stomach flipped with the thrill of finding someone new. Not the time to be shy. She needed someone strong-willed. Otherwise, she’d run right over him. Definitely someone hot and handsome. A devious grin reflected back at her from the computer monitor. A man with a little kink could be just the spark to reignite passion in her life. As she pressed enter on her request, a sigh of desire escaped her. I need to get laid worse than I thought.

  After sending the email, she slipped into the hall. The whole office appeared deserted in favor of the holiday weekend. Taking a quick trip to the restroom then checking her mail slot which sat empty, she headed back to her office to gather her things.

  Cal, the janitor, vacuumed the large rug in the company lobby. He shut off the Hoover when he saw her. “Haven’t seen you ‘round much since ole’ Palmer left.” The tall man grinned, revealing a shiny gold tooth that gave him an endearing quality.

  She smiled back. “Yeah. The new boss isn’t so…demanding.” Or as intimidating.

  A flash of sympathy played across Cal’s features. “Is that what it is? I thought you and Mr. Palmer got along pretty good.”

  “Sure we did. We had that wonderful slave/master rapport that all good relationships are built upon.” Objectively she had to admit a certain magnetism flowed from Nick Palmer. Charisma, even. But she preferred the upbeat kindness of Adam.

  Cal chuckled like he knew something she didn’t.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Spill it?”

  He shook his head. “Ain’t nothing. I just miss your company in the evenin’, is all. But, Mel, you keep that chin up. Things are gonna work out. It’s gonna be a brand new year of possibilities. You’ll see.”

  She shrugged. “Thanks, Cal. You get finished here, and go celebrate with that jewel of a wife. Treat her right.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Oh, I always do that.”

  Mel smiled as she rounded her desk to shut down the laptop and pack it up. Her email light blinked. Probably just spam. But she couldn’t resist the urge to look.

  Madame Eve. Oh, God, she responded.

  Ms. Manning,

  I received your request and have a fully vetted client who is interested in meeting with you tonight. This is a highly irregular occurrence, but he finds himself alone on New Year’s Eve.

  After reading your requirements, I immediately considered a match with this particular gentleman. He is a Dom and enjoys the harder side of intimate relations, which could be very therapeutic to a woman in your circumstance.

  In addition to him being what I believe is the appropriate lover for you, he also lives in the Northern California area. I can reserve a room at the Castillo Resort in Sonoma Valley for this evening.

  Let me know immediately if this is of interest to you.

  Mel typed a message with antsy fingers and pressed send. Five minutes later a response came:

  Your stipulations are met. A limousine will pick you up for your evening at six o’clock.

  Electric excitement coursed through her veins. Her breath quickened. A real live Dom. Holy shit! What had she gotten into? The thought had her wound up tighter than a five-dollar Rolex from Chinatown. Desire radiated between her legs, and her behind prickled in anticipation. Discipline. Though her body said, “Yes, yes,” her mind screamed, “No!”

  Bondage and discipline. Definitely not ideas she generally associated with herself. But the darker side of sex had always intrigued her. Enough to make her moist just thinking about it. Not that she’d believed she would act on those desires. But as this opportunity presented itself…it seemed as if fate had taken a hand. To deny that rite of passage —whatever it was—would be to deny something that had always lurked inside but eluded her.

  Chapter Two

  Mel stared out the window, watching the hills of wine country roll by. Straight rows of grapevines trussed to white stakes sprawled as far as the eye could see. Even in the middle of winter, the beautiful scenery filled her vision, though the barren vines reminded her of the empty life she tried to fill. She smoothed down the hem of her little black dress. It still had the tags on it when she’d pulled it from the hanger. The same dress she’d meant to wear to Jason’s birthday party that past summer. The same one that never made it from her closet because when she’d finally arrived home three hours late, all the guests had gone, and Jason was packing his things.

  A band of grief and guilt tightened around her chest. To wear that dress, along with the brand new lacy bra and panties she’d bought to go with it, signified the whole reason for this evening.

  She stifled a giggle at the thought of the only man who had seen her wearing the intimate items. A week before the party, she’d run out to Nordstrom’s on her lunch hour. Later that evening while working on some idiotic analysis for Dragon Boss, she’d decided to try the delicate items on in her office.

  In typical tyrant fashion, Palmer barged in without knocking and got an eyeful. His fine Hugo Boss pants had tented like a Ringling Bros. show. She laughed out loud at the memory of his stunned face flushed with embarrassment. Whether from seeing her half naked or his strong reaction, she couldn’t tell. For the only time in their entire working relationship, he stuttered and stalked from the room. She went home early that night.

  Neither of them had mentioned the incident. He’d found her attractive? Her breath hitched in her throat. Thinking she’d put a chink in his armor of professionalism gave her an indescribable thrill. A few short weeks later, she took a week’s vacation to move into a new apartment without Jason, and Palmer had left the firm in what the staff at Shelton and Bowles deemed an early retirement.

  She wiggled her bottom against the leather of the seat. The soft lace of the panties brushed against her ass, and she tensed. Would Mr. Happy New Year be as appreciative of her choice of underwear as Palmer had been? Would he appreciate what was in them? God, Adam was right
. I need a good orgasm to put the past behind me and start anew.

  The car picked her up precisely at six, which had barely given her enough time to shave the important places, wash her hair and find something to wear. But just a few short hours after contacting 1Night Stand, she was on her way to meet her Dom.

  The limo pulled up to a beautifully manicured estate set on the eastern vista of an old winery. The tiled fountain and circular cobblestone drive gave the appearance of an old Spanish mission. She climbed the steps of the large stone manor, tension coiling tighter with each step.

  She glanced at her watch, and a sigh escaped her. Had Jason already announced his engagement? Her heart sank like the setting sun, but the clip of her lick-me stilettos tapping across the stone foyer cemented her resolve. He was getting married; she was getting laid. Really laid.

  Arrayed in dark muted earth tones, the elegance and sophistication pleased her, and she swept her gaze across the thick carpet of the large open room. A small bistro served several guests, while others milled around in floor-length evening finery. Elegant streamers with gold and black balloons decorated the front desk, and champagne chilled in silver-bucketed stands while tuxedo-clad waiters served the libations.

  She bit her lip as she glanced down at her tight black sheath. The small sequins sparkled in the ambient light. Let the celebrations begin.

  As if reading her mind, a tall man with dark hair strode toward her. “Are you Ms. Manning?”

  “Yes. I am.” She smiled, mildly impressed he guessed her identity.

  “You look ravishing this evening. I am Gabriel Alba. Welcome to the Castillo Resort and Vineyard of Sonoma Valley.”

  He held out his arm in a gentlemanly fashion. She absorbed his compliment and took his arm, feeling more feminine than she had in months.