Push Read online

  PUSH

  Joanna Blake

  Please note that this book contains bonus material in the back! This is a special edition that will only be available for a limited time. This book is not 700 pages long on it's own, so please do not be surprised when it finishes at less than 100% on your kindle.

  I hope you enjoy PUSH and your bonus books!

  Xoxox,

  Joanna

  Copyright © 2015 Joanna Blake

  All rights reserved.

  To the dreamers, readers and bakers of this world: you are all sweet enough to eat.

  Xoxox,

  Joanna

  Credits

  Rebel Edit & Design

  Furious Fotog

  Chase Keeton

  One More Page Book Promotions

  Pincushion Press

  Chapters

  Chapter One - Distraction

  Chapter Two - Calibration

  Chapter Three - Introduction

  Chapter Four - Insinuation

  Chapter Five - Fixation

  Chapter Six - Pollination

  Chapter Seven - Inebriation

  Chapter Eight - Seduction

  Chapter Nine - Exploration

  Chapter Ten - Education

  Chapter Eleven - Captivation

  Chapter Twelve - Infatuation

  Chapter Thirteen - Titillation

  Chapter Fourteen - Altercation

  Chapter Fifteen - Realization

  Chapter Sixteen - Destruction

  Chapter Seventeen - Alienation

  Chapter Eighteen - Opposition

  Chapter Nineteen - Inhalation

  Chapter Twenty - Exhalation

  Chapter Twenty-One - Temptation

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Initiation

  Chapter Twenty-Three - Reflection

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Perfection

  Six Months Later

  Author's note

  PLAYER - Bonus book

  ROCK GODS - Bonus book

  Chapter One

  Nicholas

  I poured scented gel onto the loofah mitt and worked it into Krystal's already silky smooth skin. We were just finishing up our session. I always started and finished with a shower. It was a good icebreaker and, well, sex can get messy.

  Plus, I'm sort of a clean freak.

  A perfectionist.

  Especially when it comes to my job.

  She sighed as I rubbed the mitt over her abs. Then lower, softly stroking between her thighs. Her head fell back against my shoulder. She wanted it again, I could tell. I was more than happy to oblige.

  Krystal was one of my best clients. Her appetite for sex was almost as big as mine. She was very attractive too, in a well kept cougar sort of way. Hell, she was hot period.

  Not all my clients were traditionally attractive. But I could always find something I liked about them. There wasn't a woman alive who did have some sort of appeal. Be it her eyes, her hands, her voice, or her laugh.

  I loved a woman with a good laugh.

  Fuck, I loved women. End of story. I had to, to do what I did.

  I dropped the mitt and started using my hands on her. One found her nipple and the other her clit. I toyed with her, using a light touch as she started to writhe against me. She reached backwards for me and I pulled back, scolding her with a tsking sound.

  Krystal liked it when I was in control. And I always aimed to please.

  Her perfectly toned ass pressed into me as she tried to get closer to what she was after: my cock. I had a good one. I knew it. It was my claim to fame. Not ridiculously huge but long, thick and sturdy. It had a nice curve that seemed to hit the right spots.

  I'd never had any complaints. Not from the first time. I was a fast learner.

  After a while, she was really begging me so I bent her forward as I grabbed a condom from the counter. Her hands rested on the marble shower bench. It was a really, really nice shower.

  Of course it was. Krystal was one of the richest women in Hollywood. It wasn't just from being discarded arm candy either, like so many of the middle aged women who requested my services. She'd been married to one of the studio heads out here, but she'd also made a killing herself. She ran one of the most cutting edge production houses in Los Angeles.

  Hell, Krystal was quickly outpacing the man who had been stupid enough to let her go.

  She was smart. She was in charge. I think that's why she liked being bossed around in the bedroom. She called me her 'stress relief.' I grinned, lining my cock up to her glistening, freshly waxed pussy.

  I grunted as I slid in. We'd fucked all night but I was still good to go. I always popped a Viagra before my sessions. It was standard for guys in the trade. The last thing you wanted was to go soft.

  She was making incoherent sounds as I slowly drove into her again and again. Slow and hard. That's what she needed today. I could feel it.

  She'd had a really hard day at work.

  I had stayed a few hours extra. She didn't usually ask for special favors. But I needed to get going soon. I lifted one leg up to the bench so I was straddling her. I used the new angle to go extra deep and went to town.

  Like most women, Krystal wanted me to finish too. It was all part of the experience. If anything, finishing was the hardest part for me. I loved sex, sure. But was I always excited enough to blow after fucking a wide variety of women, day after day?

  Not even close.

  I closed my eyes, letting my mind wander. I had figured out how to come on command years ago. It served me well. I basically imagined the perfect woman. In my fantasy she was always begging me to take her. She was sweet and submissive and doing whatever filthy, dirty things I wanted her to do.

  She didn't even have a face. It was just a feeling. And it always did the trick.

  I waited until I felt Krystal flutter against me and then I let loose, my cock pulsing deep inside her. My hands gripped her hips tightly as I stayed embedded in her until her tremors stopped. I always had to resist the urge to yank my cock out of a client when I was done. That was the one consistent in my job.

  After I popped, I wanted to remove myself immediately. But that was not part of the gig.

  This was about their pleasure, not mine. So I suppressed the instinct to cut and run. It must be a man thing. But when I was on duty, I wasn't just a man.

  I was the perfect man.

  Finally, her tremors stopped. Krystal looked back at me as I pulled myself free. She looked so grateful that I felt guilty for wanting to pull out. She slid her arms around me after I disposed of the condom.

  "Oh Nick. What would I do without you?"

  I smiled.

  "You are going to have to make due for the next few weeks."

  She pouted, giving me a glimpse of the hottie she used to be. Back in her day, she was movie star hot. I stroked her cheek, giving her a soft kiss.

  "Why do you have to go to London again? Don't I pay you enough?"

  I smiled at her, brushing the wet hair out of her face.

  "It's a job. A really, really big job."

  Rosalie

  I turned the page, snuggling deeper into the sofa. The furry, breathing, snoring sofa.

  "Damien!"

  Big brown eyes stared back at me soulfully. I wrinkled my nose. The dogs needed a bath. And I was pretty sure one of them had just passed gas.

  The glamorous life of the nobility. If only people knew. Old, drafty stone houses. Faulty plumbing. Servants hovering around, listening to everything. Straight backs and tight, uncomfortable clothes. And farting old dogs.

  I loved it here though. The creaky, massive old estate was beautiful, even if it was perpetually cold. I loved our old family retainers too, even though most of them did eavesdrop unrepentantly. And most of all I loved my pups. Even though they were enormous elderly Clumber Spaniels, and not puppies anymore. I still though of them as the little wiggling masses I first fell in love with when I was just a girl.

  Not that they were ever that small.

  I'd even ridden them like tiny ponies, at the urging of my cousin Rebecca. I'd felt guilty afterwards, even though the dogs didn't seem to mind.

  They were lovable, oafish dogs who were more likely to lick you to death than to bite you. Even if you were an obnoxious child who was tugging on their ears while screaming 'giddy up' at the top of your lungs. They were incredibly patient with me, and in return I worshipped them. Given the lack of hugs in the house, I latched onto the big warm fuzzy dogs with all the love I had in my heart. And they'd returned my affection in spades.

  A bond had been formed that way, and it had lasted all these years. Even with me away at school for much of the time. According to my mother, they slept in my bed the entire time I was away.

  They didn't like to let me out of their sight when I was home either. Even now that I had moved back in. I'd done two years of junior college. Apparently, that was all that was required by my strict, controlling parents.

  Now, for the first time since I was ten years old, I was home.

  Not just for holiday either.

  But I'd already been told it was not for long. I was here only as long as it took to marry me off. My parents were very traditional. Never mind my father's mother, the Duchess. She gave a whole new meaning to the word, tyrannical. I knew what was expected of me. I had to be neat, clean, well mannered, kind and aloof. I could never interact with the lower classes.

  I always did my best to live up to those standards, even the parts that seemed outdated and snobbish. In front of my family anyway. When they weren't there I joked around
with the stable master and talked to the mail carrier. Out of loneliness mostly, though you would be surprised what sort of interesting lives the most ordinary people had lived.

  Not me though. I went from task to task and from duty to duty.

  It was boring to say the least.

  Until recently, I hadn't minded. I had my books and my movies. And my dogs.

  But lately... I'd been feeling more than a little bit restless.

  Just then Regan chose to rearrange herself so that her head was across my belly. She stared at me with her adoring eyes. Then she yawned and I got a big whiff of dog breath.

  Stinky, stinky dog breath.

  I smiled and picked up my book again. I had nothing to do today but lose myself in a good book. There was no place I'd rather be.

  "Rosalie! Are you listening to me? You know the dogs shouldn't be on the furniture!"

  I sighed. There went my afternoon. My grandmother had just arrived.

  I extricated myself from the massive pile of dog and sank into a curtsy.

  "Your Grace."

  She arched a brow at me, her eyes sliding over my outfit. I was wearing old school clothes. A navy skirt and a button down shirt and cardigan. I belatedly realized that I might be a bit rumpled. I glanced down.

  Very rumpled.

  She on the other hand, looked impeccable. As always.

  "You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

  I blinked at her. She'd been talking? I bit my lip. She was right. I hadn't heard a word.

  She sighed heavily.

  "It's time for your fitting. You have a full social calendar this season. I expect you to hold still and not complain about pins this time."

  I groaned inwardly. I hated being dressed this way. By committee. I just wanted to wear jeans and a t-shirt. But I wasn't really ever allowed to. My school uniform had gotten me through adolescence. Off duty I just wore what I had, which was more of the same.

  Navy, gray, plaid. Woolens and stiff starchy cottons. And the clothing for formal events... well, those were even worse. Tight fitting dresses in scratchy brocades and overly warm velvets. I cringed at the thought.

  But I had no choice in the matter. Or any other.

  I had managed to keep some scraggly old cashmere sweaters that had belonged to my father and a few t-shirts over the years. But no one ever saw them, so it was fine. I had to keep them hidden though, or someone would throw them out.

  Even my pajamas were picked out for me.

  I never complained though. My work with various charities had kept me well informed about the levels of misery in the world. So what if my clothes were stiff and itchy from starch? At least I had clothes, and food to eat. A roof over my head.

  I was one of the lucky ones. And someday, I'd be able to make my own decisions. I knew I would do a lot of things differently.

  But that day was not today.

  I nodded.

  "Alright Grand-mere."

  I smiled as I followed my Grandmother out of the room. She hated being called Grandmother in any of its variations. So of course, I snuck it in whenever possible.

  She also hated to be reminded of her first husband, before she'd married my Grandfather, the Duke.

  Grand-mere's first husband had been French.

  Naturally, I got very high marks in French.

  Chapter Two

  Nicholas

  I sipped my sparkling water as the stewardess made her way through the first class cabin. I had a window seat with no one beside me, even though the plane was full. It was deliberately done.

  That was a first. My new employer had bought me two first class tickets. She had been very specific about the procedure. I was to read the dossier on the plane, then dispose of it in a public place, and then pour liquid over it.

  Not water, either. Something dark, like coffee.

  She'd actually specified a dark roast.

  It all seemed a little silly to me. Like I was in an old spy movie. But the client had insisted.

  Of course, since she was paying me twenty thousand dollars, it was more than worth it. Well, more actually. If I was able to complete the assignment, I would get another fifty thousand. She had yet to fill me in on the details.

  With that money and everything I had saved I could finally set my mom up in a gorgeous house. I already paid for her rental apartment in Malibu. But we could finally move away. Start over.

  Maybe open a little family restaurant like she'd always dreamed of.

  Hawaii sounded nice. Or the Maldives. Someplace warm.

  Someplace where she'd never been a housekeeper. Or a hotel maid. Or a clerk at a grocery store.

  More than anything, I wanted to repay my mother for everything she had done for my sister and I. She deserved it. Nobody had worked harder. She'd had three jobs, just to raise my kid sister and I. She'd barely slept from the day that my father walked out on us to the day I brought home my first envelope full of money.

  A big, fat envelope of money. Cash. No paper trail.

  One of the many, many perks of my job.

  She knew what I did. She didn't like it. But she knew it was temporary. And she knew I took pride in my work.

  My sister on the other hand, had no idea what I did.

  Even though I was paying her way through college at the moment.

  I glanced around to make sure no one was looking and pulled the thick package out of my bag.

  I flipped open the folder and froze. There was a picture of a girl on top. A very, very pretty, very young girl. She was fragile looking. Delicate. Her pale skin and full pink lips were classically beautiful. Her high cheekbones and slanted doe eyes were a bright blue. Her dark wavy hair cascaded over her slender shoulders.

  She was standing with perfect posture at the edge of a crowd at what looked like a garden party. She was dressed in lace and ruffles, not like a pretty little porcelain doll. She looked perfect. Flawless.

  And yet, totally alone somehow. Something about her made me want to comfort her, not seduce her. She looked lost.

  I frowned. This beautiful girl was my client? I dealt with women, not fragile little doe. Besides, even that young, I was sure a beauty like that was crawling with options. A girl that looked like her would have men beating down her door.

  She was young, rich and stunningly beautiful. She didn't need an escort. It made no sense at all.

  I flipped the picture and my breath caught. Relief flooded me as I stared at another photo. She was older here. Laughing as she fed an apple to a horse. Her riding clothes fit her like a glove, revealing a remarkably feminine form. Her hair was pulled back this time and I could see she was even more beautiful than I'd thought.

  Not a little girl at all.

  My body had responded instantly. And that was just from a picture. If this was really the job, it would be more enjoyable than most.

  Much, much more enjoyable.

  I closed the folder abruptly. There was something strange about this. Not that I objected to taking a stunning young woman to bed. I just didn't understand why.

  I opened the folder again and pulled out a thick stack of printed papers. It was a description of the client, her likes and dislikes, hopes and dreams, everything. Maybe this would shed some light on the situation...

  I settled in and began to read.

  Rosalie

  "Lower."

  I stared in shock at the Duchess. She and my mother were looking over yet another evening gown they had chosen for me. And for some reason they seemed to want to put my bosom on prominent display.

  Well, at least compared to the other high necked gowns I was used to wearing to formal events. I did like the color though. It was a dark teal. I also had one in sapphire, one in emerald and several in black and white.

  For the first time in my life, no one was trying to make me wear pink.

  I despised pink.

  Well, not in small doses. Or pink dog noses. I just hated being swathed in it from head to toe. Something that had been happening to me with alarming regularity since birth.