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    Hard-Pressed
    Hard-Pressed
    Hard-Pressed
    Ebook67 pages59 minutes

    Hard-Pressed

    By Queenie Black

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Everything to prove and everything to lose.

    Master Lucien has one night at Club Hard.

    One night to show bodyguard Rose Dainty that he can be the Dom she needs.

    One night to show her that submitting to him doesn’t make her weak, that true submission requires strength and trust.

    Will pushing Rose to her limits prove to her she can trust him with her body and heart, and can she let go of her deepest fears long enough to enjoy her surrender? `

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherEvernight Publishing
    Release dateSep 18, 2019
    ISBN9780369500601
    Hard-Pressed

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      Book preview

      Hard-Pressed - Queenie Black

      Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

      www.evernightpublishing.com

      Copyright© 2019 Queenie Black

      ISBN: 978-0-3695-0060-1

      Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

      Editor: Audrey Bobak

      ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

      WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

      This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

      Thank you to the Romantic Novelists' Association, particularly Walker's Stalkers and Angela Wren. Without you, quite simply, I wouldn't have come this far.

      HARD-PRESSED

      Club Hard, 1

      Queenie Black

      Copyright © 2019

      Chapter One

      Rose

      I mounted the six shallow steps and faced the double front doors. Twin carriage lights cast a soft gleam over the brass plaque with its discrete lettering:

      Club Hard

      Private Members Only

      I desperately wanted to run back down the steps, leap into my car, and drive home, but if I did, nothing would change, and I’d go back to dividing my time between working out, Candy Crush Saga, and the occasional night out with my friends. I might miss out on learning something about myself, something that could make a difference in my sex life. Worse, I might miss a chance at love.

      I stayed, my feet rooted to the floor, but the insides of my hands were so damp, my finger slipped on the brass bell, setting off a short, discordant jangling. I winced as I rang it again properly this time. That certainly wouldn’t endear me to anyone.

      Shifting from foot to foot, trying to keep the blood circulating in my toes, I looked around. Behind me, the gravel drive snaked away to a discreet carpark, and trees and shrubs created shadows within shadows. Autumn had finally reached London and in this exclusive part of it, crisp, clean air and earthy leaf mulch replaced the smell of fast food and exhaust.

      I shifted again, starting to get irritated. If you were going to demand a woman wear nothing but a skirt that barely covered her butt, and a top that was little more than a bit of elastic bandage—on me it was ridiculous, if I sneezed, I’d pop out over the top—then you should damn well open the door promptly. Now, despite wearing my warmest coat over the absurd ensemble, there was a distinct draught zipping under my hem and freezing my exposed butt cheeks.

      I lifted my finger to stab the bell again, and the door swung open.

      Bloody hell. A real butler. I was no stranger to mansions with staff. Working as a bodyguard meant I saw the inside of a lot of wealthy homes, but so far, a liveried butler was a new one to me.

      Can I help you?

      I cleared my throat, wondering if there was any etiquette for addressing a butler, aware that my finger was still lurking in the vicinity of his eye. Umm, I’m, ah, it’s Ms. Dainty. To see Mr. Dufort. I’m expected.

      He waved me through into a large marble-floored hall with a fire burning at one side. A wide, elegant staircase at the back curved away to the upper floors.

      I’ll inform Mr. Dufort that you’re here, if you’d like to take a seat. He indicated a collection of sofas and easy chairs huddled as if for warmth around the fireplace. I made a beeline for the heat.

      May I take your coat?

      I crossed my arms tightly. No way was I exposing my scantily clad self. Ah, thanks, but I’m a bit cold.

      I see my guest has arrived, Henry.

      I turned away from the fire to see Lucien Dufort crossing the hall toward me. The floor seemed to drop a few inches and I had to grab the back of a chair to steady myself as his delicious, rich chocolate voice with its faint French accent wound around me, setting my heart hammering.

      A tall, elegant man, he moved toward me with predatory intent, covering the floor in loose, confident strides, but it was his eyes that held my gaze, dark eyes, sharp with intelligence and power. He wasn’t a handsome man. HHis narrow-bladed Gallic nose, inherited from his mother, was slightly overlarge for that, but his lips were sensual, and the mix of tenderness and lust in his expression as he looked at me sent electric tingles charging down my spine.

      Rose, welcome to Club Hard. He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, his tongue flickering into the little hollow

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