His Unexpected Love Read online

  His Unexpected Love

  A Cuffs and Spurs Novella

  Anya Summers

  Blushing Books

  ©2018 by Blushing Books® and Anya Summers

  All rights reserved.

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  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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  Published by Blushing Books®,

  a subsidiary of

  ABCD Graphics and Design

  977 Seminole Trail #233

  Charlottesville, VA 22901

  The trademark Blushing Books®

  is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

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  Anya Summers

  His Unexpected Love

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  EBook ISBN: 978-1-947132-12-2

  Print ISBN: 978-1-947132-31-3

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  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

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  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Chapter 1

  Carter was dog-ass tired and already regretting this unnecessary trip.

  If the members of his club, Cuffs and Spurs, in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, hadn’t insisted and voted that he, as the owner and founder of their group, personally check out the newest hotspot for those in the lifestyle, he wouldn’t be here on a catamaran in the Caribbean. Carter had a myriad number of duties back home on his ranch, the Double J. Instead of training the latest crop of quarter horses this week, he was on board the sleek ocean vessel Goddess of the Sea. Carter had to admit the endless blue waves and island that rose up out of the early morning sunlight, spearing the heavens with its lone mountain were beautiful. Not as awe inspiring as the Grand Tetons outside his back door, but it definitely was a sight to behold.

  He knew Jared McTavish by reputation only. From what he’d gathered, Jared was a respected Master in the community. It was Tyler Jenson who’d put him and Jared in contact with each other. Carter and Ty went way back, even though they belonged to different clubs.

  The only reason Carter was here in the first place was because breeding season for this year on his ranch was over. His two stallions, King Tut and Odin, had each covered a dozen females, starting this past April and ending a week ago. Had the season not already ended, they would have had to dynamite Carter off his ranch.

  Typically, the only time he left his ranch was to head into town for supplies or to spend an evening in the club. Otherwise he was at home, working nearly round the clock. He had hired help for both the ranch and the running of the house. But the workload was still nonstop. And this summer had been busier than the last. While he was thankful his business was doing so well, he rarely had time to kick back and relax. And normally, when he did, he was reminded of all that he had to accomplish once his downtime came to a close. The only time he didn’t think about work was when he was buried balls-deep in a sub. Fucking got him out of his mind and into the present.

  And Carter hadn’t been having much of that lately.

  There were plenty of subs at his club in Jackson Hole whom he could scene with if he wanted to. But considering he’d had most of them once or twice already and knew which ones wanted a ring on their finger, which ones were nymphos and would fuck anything, and which ones were commitment phobic, they were all getting to be a drag.

  He’d even started going outside the sub pool and picking up a tourist or two to get his jollies. But most of them were so straight-laced in the bedroom, they tended to go ape shit if he so much as put his thumb in their ass.

  Carter was a lot of things; vanilla wasn’t one of them.

  When the ferry docked, all Carter could think about was a shower, food, and then bed. Preferably not alone. Handing the bellhop his luggage and carry-on bag, he sauntered off the boat. The gangway plank was a precarious fit for a man his size. Carter was in shape, always had been, but he was a large man. He knew that. Anyone who saw him knew that—at six foot six, he was a bit hard to miss.

  As he rounded the corner off the walkway, a blonde bullet bounced into him and would have tumbled off the dock had he not caught her by the arms. And son of a bitch but she was a looker. Miles of golden blonde hair swung from a high ponytail. She also had cornflower blue eyes that reminded him of the Wyoming sky at midday, and a petite—albeit well-endowed—frame.

  “Hey, watch where the hell you’re going, damn sasquatch!” she snarled through top-heavy, rose-tinted lips that he’d love to see around his cock.

  Carter narrowed his gaze and, instead of cowing or being polite, decided to show this mouthy little princess who was boss. He crowded her body, giving her as stern a glance as he could muster, and said, “Careful. Or someone might take offense to how you speak to them.”

  She pursed her lips and tossed her hair back. Her gaze lifted and met his with a frank directness that lanced through him. Although, instead of shoving him away as he had assumed she would, the little sub licked her lips—like she wanted to latch those pretty lips of hers onto his body—then leaned her knockout form against him.

  Christ. Her pillowy tits smooshed up against his chest, sending all the blood in his head directly to his dick. Thunderbolts of desire rocketed through him when she traced her fine-boned hands over his chest and headed south. Just how far did the sub plan to take her little show?

  Fuck, he prayed it was all the way. The muscles in his torso clenched as the tips of her fingers caressed him through the fabric of his tee shirt. He wanted to nudge her hands lower, toward his belt buckle and the part of himself straining against the fabric of his jeans. Carter was all in for whatever this little wanton could lob his way, and so was his cock. Pleasure Island had become infinitely more interesting than it was previously.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Sir. I thought you would have noticed a little thing like me,” she murmured, saccharine sweet with a seductive expression on her gorgeous face that would likely lead men to their doom.

  A little too sweet. That should have been the tipoff. But all his brain power was currently located in his crotch.

  “You can always make it up to me, darlin,” he said, already envisioning his cock in her mouth—among other places—with her baby blue gaze looking up at him adoringly.

  Her smile grew brighter and she raised a single golden brow as he bent his head down. Would she let him taste her succulent, bow-shaped mouth? Then her delicate hands still splayed against his chest, which had seemed so inviting a moment ago, shoved against him with such Teutonic force that she knocked him off his feet. She muttered, “Cool off, big guy. I don’t have time for your Dom bullshit.”

  Shock riddled his form as he tumbled through the air. And then his body hit water.

  The mildly warm water jarred his body as he plunged beneath the surface. The lust she had ignited transformed into fury. He hadn’t flown thousands of miles to get dunked into the ocean by an uppity sub. He surfaced, sputtering sea water from his mouth. Luckily, he’d always been athletically inclined, but swimming in his favorite boots wasn’t easy. However a lesser man would have drowned. Damn things were likely ruined by the unexpected dunking.

  Fuck.

  Carter swam to a nearby ladder attached to the docks and hauled himself up out of the water. He reached the top rung just in time to watch that little sub’s gorgeous ass sashay away. A large male hand helped him up over the top until he stood, sopping wet an
d ready to roar.

  Carter shouted, “What the fuck kind of greeting was that? Who the hell was she?”

  Because he wasn’t done with that sub in the slightest. That gorgeous ass of hers was just begging for a strong hand to show her who was boss. Preferably his hand, with her ass bare and glowing ruby red from his touch. And then he intended to leave the island because he hadn’t traveled all this way for a headache of this magnitude. Carter had his own problems and didn’t need anyone else’s.

  The man who’d helped him back onto the dock was dressed in black slacks and a long sleeved blue dress shirt. His ginger hair was longer than the average businessman’s, and his eyes were hidden behind a pair of aviators. How he could wear formal business wear in this heat and humidity was beyond Carter.

  “Carter. I’m Jared McTavish. I apologize that your welcome was a bit wetter than intended,” he said in a rolling Scottish brogue.

  “Yeah, well, you can charter me the first boat off the fucking island after I discipline that sub. I didn’t come here for this. I have a herd of horses to train. What kind of establishment are you running anyhow if a submissive can act out like that?” Carter demanded, his voice booming as he yelled at the man.

  Jared nodded. “I understand your concern. Jenna will be dealt with at the club tonight by my hand. I can promise you that.”

  “Do all the subs run roughshod over the place?” Carter asked. If so, then he was gone. That was something he ensured at his club: that submissives knew their place and how to act. When one stepped a toe out of line, she was disciplined and dealt with accordingly.

  Jared shook his head and said, a grimace on his face, “No. And I admit, I’ve never had one do something precisely like that. I can promise you, I will rectify the matter and see to her discipline. At least stay the night, see if I can change your mind. If not, I will have a ferry ready for you first thing tomorrow, or could even charter one of the DFC’s jets to fly you home.” He gestured toward a waiting golf cart. “If you would like to come with me, I will escort you to your villa. Additionally, I will have your clothes dry cleaned—on the house, of course. If there’s anything that is a total loss, it will be replaced at no cost to you.”

  “And that sub?” Carter said. It was clear Jared wasn’t remiss in his duties as a Master, but he still wasn’t sold on the place.

  “Will be dealt with, I can promise you that,” Jared responded, his face unreadable behind his aviators.

  “I want her for my week-long stay. Clearly you have some subs who need to be properly trained,” Carter replied, certain he had lost his mind the moment that little thing had pressed herself against him. A saner man would walk away and find greener pastures.

  Jared grimaced. “We pride ourselves on safe, sane, and consensual.”

  Carter snorted. “Relax. I won’t hurt her. I might tan her fucking hide a few times, but I would never truly harm a sub. If that’s what you think of me—”

  “I mean no offense, but I protect those under my care, including my employees,” Jared replied, his countenance and bearing staunchly protective. Like he would be only too happy to put Carter on the nearest boat if there was even a hint of the possibility a submissive would be harmed by him.

  Carter respected the hell out of that. They did the same with any of the subs who came into their club. Fuck, he might actually like Jared, if he hadn’t had such a rude and wet welcome.

  “I’ll stay. But I want her or I walk,” Carter tossed out the ultimatum, again wondering if it was a wise move on his part.

  “Understood. I will see what I can do to arrange that Jenna is your submissive this week.” Jared said, “If you’ll follow me, we can get you situated. I’ve procured one of our exclusive luxury villas for your stay.”

  Carter nodded, trailing behind him to the cart. He had a name for his little termagant. Jenna. It suited her.

  Chapter 2

  She shouldn’t have done what she did.

  Jenna knew her actions had consequences. They always did. Maybe if she wasn’t so tired from working late last night at the Dungeon Club serving drinks, and then being up at the ass-crack of dawn to run errands for the front desk, just to earn a little extra cash, then perhaps she wouldn’t have sassed the man—among other things, like shoving him into the ocean.

  Way to go and completely screw up the job she needed. Jenna was just so damn tired. The burdens she carried got heavier by the day.

  Jenna hadn’t meant to run into that guest. She’d had her head down, trying to flash forward through her day, and hadn’t seen him until she’d plowed into his firm, broad chest. The rebound almost knocked her off her feet. His hands had closed around her biceps and short circuited her brain patterns… because, heaven help her, what a man. A dominant alpha with dark chestnut hair that nearly grazed his massive shoulders. His forthright hazel gaze had been brown, with specks of green and gold. Full lips that were shrouded by a few days’ growth of dark stubble. Sinful didn’t even begin to cover his handsome face. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d called him sasquatch. The man was a freaking giant. So large he’d blocked out the sun—with a little help from his black Stetson.

  Her body had purred at his innocent touch. And it had fueled the flames of her anger, much like poking an angry bear. Before her brain had time to process what she was doing, she was shoving him into the water.

  But that was why she now stood, somewhat contrite, before her boss, Jared McTavish. Master and owner of this fine island establishment. From the way his gaze assessed her from behind his desk, Jenna knew she was walking a razor-fine line.

  Dammit.

  “Jenna, I can’t begin to understand why you would act out that way with a guest. Carter Jones is the owner of a lifestyle club in Wyoming and someone I’m hoping the island can do business with. Mind telling me what happened today? And why you took it upon yourself to so rudely welcome a guest?” Jared asked, sitting behind his desk, decked out in club gear. The Dom was a beautiful man, with his expanse of muscular chest bare.

  There was no excuse she could offer, at least not one he would understand. She hid her trembling fingers. “No, Sir.”

  She couldn’t really explain it herself. Except that man with his I’m a big bad Dom attitude and forthright gaze had pushed her buttons the wrong way. The fact that he apparently believed that because she was submissive he could swagger off the boat, wave his dick her way, and she should be thankful for it, had pushed all of her buttons—all the wrong ones. Her mom had always said she must have a recessive redhead gene, because she could go off with the right provocation and there was no coming back once her fury had been launched.

  Carter’s attitude was archaic and had made her see red. Before her brain had really connected with her higher reasoning skills, she’d shoved the man into the bay. In her opinion, the Dom deserved it. That didn’t mean she was willing to risk her job, the job she needed desperately.

  “Well, I can’t let it go unpunished. If you want to continue working here, you will be publicly disciplined in the club. Do you understand?” Jared asked, his gaze clear and unyielding.

  She winced. It was her fault. The punishment was one of her own making that she couldn’t see a way around. Jenna would pay the piper. That was all she seemed to do. Work. Then rob Peter to pay Paul—or, in this case, her father’s medical bills and sister’s tuition. There were days when her life was just one big ball of crud. Days when she felt like life had chewed her up and spit her out.

  Exhaustion was a normal state of being for Jenna. She was the one who held everything together for her family. If she screwed up, they paid the price. Just once she’d like to lean back and know that her world wouldn’t come tumbling down while she rested.

  “I understand. And I am sorry. I was tired and in a hurry and he…” What? Had awed her with his sheer size? Had ignited a slow burn in her body at feeling his hard, masculine body against hers? Had turned her insides into putty at the unwavering dominance in his stance? That there had bee
n a part of Jenna that had desperately wanted to sink into him. Right there on the docks and forget everything else, all her responsibilities and the people counting on her. Let his big body not only block out the sun but the rest of the world too.

  It had been her guilt more than anything that had kick started her fury. Guilt over her wish to relinquish her duties, even for a moment.

  Pathetic: table for one.

  “Did he do something, Jenna? If he so much as crooked a finger at you without your permission, say the word and this ends now. I will have him escorted off the island if he manhandled you in any way,” Jared asked.

  He would do it too. She could see it in his fervent gaze. Jared was one of the good ones, protecting her and the rest of the submissives on the island the way he did. Not that he wasn’t an exacting taskmaster, because he totally was. Yet he would put a potential partnership on the line for her if harm had come to her. There weren’t many men—let alone many employers—who would see to their employee’s welfare above that of the company. As much as that warmed her, and as much as she’d love to toss Carter under the bus, Jenna couldn’t allow Jared to lose business because of her own stupidity. It had been her issues that had initiated her internal combustion to nuclear meltdown levels.

  “No, Master J. It was my fault. And I submit myself to whatever punishment you deem necessary,” she said, straightening her shoulders. She owned up to her part in this. Would the cowboy?

  “Thank you for being honest. Strip and put these on. You will be publicly flogged in the club,” Jared commanded, putting a black pair of cuffs on his desk.

  “Yes, Sir,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.