Tawny Taylor, Anne Rainey, Vonna Harper (Stark Pleasure; Ruby's Awakening; Runa's High)

217 Pages·2013·1.21 MB·English

by  Yes Master

Books by Tawny Taylor Darkest Desire
Dangerous Master
Darkest Fire
Decadent Master
Wicked Beast
Dark Master
Real Vamps Don’t Drink O-Neg
Sex and the Single Ghost

Books by Anne Rainey Naked Games
Pleasure Bound
So Sensitive
Body Rush
“Cherry on Top” in Some Like It Rough

Also by Vonna Harper Surrender
Roped Heat
“Wild Ride” in The Cowboy
“Restraint” in Bound to Ecstasy
Night Fire
“Breeding Season” in Only with a Cowboy
“Night Scream” in Sexy Beast V
Going Down
Night of the Hawk
“Mustang Man” in Tempted by a Cowboy
Taming the Cougar
Falcon’s Captive
“On the Prowl” in Sexy Beast 9
Spirit of the Wolf
Canyon Shadows
His Slave
YES, MASTER...
TAWNY TAYLOR
ANNE RAINEY
VONNA HARPER
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Books by Tawny Taylor
Title Page
Stark Pleasure
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
Ruby’s Awakening
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
Runa’s High
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
Epilogue
NO MERCY
Copyright Page
Stark Pleasure
TAWNY TAYLOR
1
“C
heck this out. It’s the perfect job for you.” My roommate, Jenn, tossed a
copy of our school’s newspaper at me from across the room. She was at the far
end of our dorm room, which wasn’t very far, boxing up her books and papers.
She’d accumulated a lot of books and papers. She’d been boxing stuff up for
days.
Me, I was pretty much done packing. I didn’t own much. I liked to live light.
No extra baggage.
Sitting at my desk, my back to her, I leaned to the side, out of the direct path
of the flying missile. The folded paper smacked the wall in front of me and
landed on top of my laptop.
“Thanks.” I unfolded it, skimmed. At first glance, nothing stuck out. A few
“opportunities” to make money from home, a job as a telemarketer, and another
ad for models. “Which one?”
“The modeling one, of course.”
Of course. At five-foot-nothing, I, Alice Barlow, was perfect modeling
material.
I lobbed the paper back. “Ha, ha. Very funny. Next, you’ll be telling me I
should try out for a women’s professional basketball team.”
“No, silly. It’s not a joke. You didn’t read the ad. It’s for an artist’s model.
Not a fashion model.” Another box loaded, Jenn half-carried, half-dragged it to
the mountain we were building next to the door. Moving day was going to be
hell. We lived on the third floor of our dormitory, and there was no elevator.
“Artists like to use models of all shapes and sizes. Not that you’re fat. With your
tight dancer’s body, not to mention your flexibility, I bet they’d love you.” She
lifted the box about waist high, which was roughly three feet shy of getting it on
top of the pile. She staggered.
“Are you sure you can’t get rid of some of this stuff?” I asked, as I ran to her
rescue.
“No, absolutely not.”
I glanced in the gap between the flaps as I grabbed one end. “You’re
graduating with a communications degree. When are you going to need a book
about global economics?”
“You never know. I might need something to fall back on,” she reasoned
between groans and grunts. Once we had the box on top of Mount Useless-Crap-
More, she brushed her hands off, smoothed the blond flyaway hairs out of her
face. “So, are you going to apply for the job?”
“Artist’s model? Don’t they pose nude?” I asked, retreating to my desk.
Jenn shrugged. “Sure. But I’ve seen you naked. You’ve got nothing to be
ashamed of.” She patted her nonexistent belly—the one she was always
complaining about. “Unlike me.” She turned sideways, rubbed her stomach like
a pregnant woman. “Check out this gut.”
“Shut up.” I dismissed her ridiculous exaggeration with a toss of my hand.
“You don’t have a gut. Or thunder thighs. Or arm fat.”
“Yes, I do.” She waved, pointing at her triceps. “See the arm fat jiggle?”
Nothing was moving. But we’d had this conversation before. At least a few
hundred times since freshman year. We were now a few weeks away from
moving out of the dorm and into our own apartment. Graduation was in a little
over two weeks. I think we were both equally excited and scared. Excited to be
finally heading out into the “real” world, getting our first full-time jobs. Scared
because the economy was in the toilet, and jobs in our fields were scarce. Thus,
the conversation about the modeling job in the first place.
“I can’t model nude,” I stated. I was feeling twitchy just thinking about it.
Naked? Me? In front of a stranger?
“How do you know you can’t? Have you ever tried?” Jenn asked as she
dumped a load of notebooks, textbooks, and miscellaneous crap in another
empty box.
“No, but—”
“Did you see what they’re paying? It’s not a bad deal.”
I hadn’t gotten that far. The second I read the word model, I stopped. The
paper was sitting right there, next to my computer. But I didn’t bother looking.
The point was moot. “If it’s such a great opportunity, why aren’t you applying?”
I volleyed back.
“I am.”
My jaw dropped.
Jenn?
I gaped.
Posing naked?
I gaped some more.
“What?” Jenn narrowed her big blue eyes to itty-bitty slits. “Close your
mouth.”
I shut my mouth.
Then I opened it, to speak. “You’re a born-again, Bible-touting Christian
who’s taken a vow of celibacy.”
Jenn sighed. “I’m posing for a professional artist. Posing. Not having sex. Not
posing for Playboy. Not posing for a horny college guy who is pretending to be a
serious photographer.”
“What if your parents find out?”
She shrugged again. “So what? I’m an adult now. They can’t punish me.” She
tossed the teddy bear she’d had since she was five into the box.
Adult?
“True, they can’t punish you,” I said.
“It’ll be temporary, a way to get some income started. Once Channel Two
hires me to anchor the six o’clock news, I’ll retire. Then again, maybe I won’t.”
She shut the flaps of the box and gave me a come-hither look. “Help me?”
“Sure.” I hustled over and took one end of the box. Together, we added more
useless junk to the mountain.
“We make a good team,” she pointed out as she headed back to the stash of
empty boxes. “We’ll be okay.”
“I hope you’re right. I’m a little scared,” I admitted. I knew we both were
nervous. But until now, neither of us had admitted it.
“Me too, I’m scared. To be honest, that’s the only reason why I’m even
considering the modeling thing.” She folded her arms over her chest, as if she
were trying to hide herself. “I’m not crazy about getting naked in front of anyone
except my husband someday.”
Now, with that admission, I felt a little guilty. Here my best friend was willing
to risk humiliation and shame so we could eat. I should be willing to do the
same. “I’ll put in an application too. But only if I don’t hear back by the end of
the week from the other companies I applied with.”
“Thank you.” Jenn hugged me. “We’re smart, we’re resourceful. We’re going
to be okay, one way or another. It won’t be so bad. I promise.”
“I hope you’re right about that.”
A week later, I was about to find out if it would be so bad. Unlike my other
job applications, which had led me nowhere fast, I’d received a call back almost
immediately after applying online. And that phone call had been from a woman.
A very friendly but professional-sounding woman. She informed me there was
no interview process; I would come in for my first session and if things worked
out well, I would be asked to return.
Thus, I was on my way to the studio.
Yes, I was a wreck.
If only I’d received a call back on any of those other jobs. Even the part-time