Wicked Charming (Wicked Ever After Book 1) Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of any wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction including brands or products.

  Copyright © 2017 Nazarea Andrews.

  Wicked Charming

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by A&A Literary.

  Summary: Samul Charming is wealthy, handsome and bored. Until his friends decide it’s time for him to settle down, and the one girl he wants vanishes without a trace.

  Contemporary romance 2. Erotic fairy tale 3. Novella

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  For information, address Nazarea Andrews

  [email protected]

  Edited by Allica Henry

  Cover design by The Illustrated Author

  Cover art copyright©: Nazarea Andrews

  Ebook Formatting by A & A Literary

  Prologue

  Every Kingdom has a king.

  Every king has an heir.

  I stood at Mal’s side, watching the Kingdom. Somewhere down there, the two men we called brothers were wreaking havoc, and that thought brought the smallest of smiles to my lips.

  “What?” Mal asks. He's blank and impassive as he watches the Floor, but I'd be an idiot to think he didn't see that flash of amusement.

  Mal, experience tells me, sees everything.

  “Letting the wolf and beast loose on the club without one of us holding the leash is asking for trouble.” I slide a look at my best friend. Malachi White is terrifying. I’ve been his best friend for a dozen years and I'm still firmly convinced he's fucking terrifying.

  But he's also my best friend, and I read the amusement no one else would see as he processes my words.

  “Do you want to hold their leash?”

  I snort, an inelegant sound that makes his eyes almost smile. He nudges me with one shoulder. “Go.”

  I grin, wide and toothy, and turn away.

  Truth is, Mal holds all of our leashes here, and he just let me off mine.

  Chapter 1.

  The girl was shivering. She'd been on her knees for all of five minutes, hadn't met my eyes even for a heartbeat, and she was shivering, her pale skin was pebbled with goosebumps.

  She was braced for….God, I don't even know.

  I stared at her bowed head, my drink—green tea—held with loose fingers near my lips.

  I almost wanted to yank her up by the hair just to give her what she so clearly wanted, but that's the problem.

  I don't give a fuck what a sub wants. Not this one, and not the six that came before her. I want to, and I don’t.

  Not a single fucking girl has held my interest for longer than a scene. Most don’t even hold it for that long.

  Although. This girl, with her five minutes kneeling at my feet, is a new record.

  A man in leather pants and a simple black leather collar, unadorned, approaches me and the girl—the fuck is her name?—and sprawls on a plush pillow on the floor at my right hand. I glance at him.

  James Lutz is easily one of the prettiest men I've ever met. He's got these wide brown eyes with long fucking lashes and a body that most men would kill for. Beyond that, there’s a dirty smile, and a quick mind and attitude to hold his own with me and Mal.

  And he was a natural born sub.

  He leans against my knees, a quick affectionate press before he straightens away from me and kneels. "You look bored, Charm," he says and my hand finds his hair. I yank it, just hard enough that he remembers his place.

  I get a shit-eating grin for my trouble, and huff a laugh.

  "I am bored."

  "Candy not doin' it for you?"

  Candy! That's her fucking name. She’s glaring at James from under her lowered lashes, and I feel a stir of interest. If this little girl has the balls to go up against the Beast, maybe...

  He bares his teeth at her in something that should be a smile and isn't, and she wilts, leaning back on her heels and letting her gaze drop back to the ground.

  Goddammit.

  "No," I snap, and stand. Beast heaves a sigh and nods a quick dismissal at the girl as I stalk through the club and away from the stupid dais where I've been watching.

  Annoyingly, I crave the bite of vodka—not that I can have it. I don't drink at the club, certainly not when I'm riding the edge of fury and desire.

  Instead, I beeline toward the office. Mal will be there, and Beast follows, whistling once, sharp and shrill. There's a show on the center stage; a man in black leather and a long hooded cape is securing a little sub to the St. Andrew’s cross. His head lifts, and I can feel his gaze tracking us as Beast shadows me through the club. Then his attention goes back to the girl in front of him, dismissing us completely.

  The thing is, I want to play. I'm not working, not more than I ever am here, and I want to cut loose. I want to find a girl, drag her to her knees, and ride the high of her submission.

  I just can't.

  I slam into the office, and Mal pauses, in the middle of typing. His eyebrow raises, the only clue I get that my entrance is disturbing him, and I grin, because I don't actually give a fuck.

  He resumes typing and says, "I thought you had found him a girl, Beast."

  "I did. He doesn't like her." Beast doesn't even look offended. He looks just as pissed as I feel.

  "Why?"

  "Why the fuck has he thrown back every girl I've brought him in the past six months, Mal? He's a picky fucker."

  "I'm right here," I say dryly.

  Beast flicks a disgusted look at me, and points. "You shut up. There was nothing wrong with that sub."

  There wasn't. She was lovely, she was submissive, and she was clearly dying for it, if the tiny tremors of arousal just from kneeling were any indication.

  She was perfect.

  And she was gonna take anything I gave her without ever telling me what she wanted.

  "I don't want just any sub," I say, grumpy. Mal leans back, staring, waiting for me to continue.

  "I want my sub," I say, almost defiant, daring the two of them to say something, and for a moment, neither do, because there's nothing to say—not to that.

  I'm Samul Charming. I'm the heir to a pharmaceutical empire, the only son in a family of sisters, and my mama's favorite. I've played my part of partyboy bachelor for years, quite happily. I like women, and I like fucking a lot of them. I like playing with a new sub, like seeing what I can do to make her break.

  There is something beautiful about watching a sub fall to pieces, trusting that you'll put them back together.

  But I don't actually see that. I can go down to the Floor and find a sub in the masses.

  I can nod at Beast and he'll pull one of his special girls, the ones he trains and nurtures. Problem is, they aren't mine. They like it, when we scene. When I play my mind games and fuck them after a beating, when I play with wax and, with the very rare girl, knife play.

  Yet there is still that hesitance—the one that comes from not knowing me, not belonging to me.

  I was tired of looking for something in them that I didn't ever find. I was really fucking tired of seeing an unfamiliar collar on a girl wrapped up in my knots.

  I glance at Mal, who's watching me while Beast waits—he won’t interrupt, not this
.

  “You want to collar a sub,” Mal says.

  I frown. Is that what I want? “I...I want a girl I want to collar,” I say, carefully.

  Mal frowns. “You haven’t liked any of the subs we’ve offered.”

  I shrug and shove my hands in my pockets.

  “Can you?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous.

  I stiffen.

  “Do you actually think I can’t?” I demand furiously.

  Beast presses into the wall, his head dipping. Neither of us are his Dom, but he’s a good sub—the very best The Kingdom has—and he’s responding to the anger in the room.

  I smile then, cold and remote. “Beast. Go find Candy.”

  He frowns, but he does what he’s told.

  “You’re a dick,” I tell Mal, quietly. He shrugs.

  “Prove to me you deserve a sub of your very own, Charming, and I’ll make sure you have the one you want.”

  Chapter 2.

  I got halfway through the club before I saw her.

  I think, maybe, if I hadn’t been so fucking pissed I would have kept going, or maybe I would even have noticed her sooner.

  It doesn’t really matter, though.

  She was behind the bar, and there was a couple sitting near where she stood but it was Cora that my eyes snagged on. She was pretty, vicious, unattached—and she was eyeing the bartender like she was so much meat.

  It rubbed everything in me the wrong way.

  I veered toward the bar, ignoring the fact that Beast was waiting with Candy in my private dungeon. Ignoring the fact that I could feel Mal watching me, from the Hall, assessing and judging.

  “Sweetheart,” I call, and the bartender jerks, looking up at me with wide eyes.

  She’s decked out in Kingdom standard uniform—a black leather skirt that leaves long legs bare and nothing to the imagination, a white corset that somehow manages to nod at formal wear while screaming sex, silver cuffs on her wrist and a plain silver collar with a simple loop at her throat, her curly blonde hair piled atop her head in an elegant knot. She’s kinda gorgeous—in a down-to-earth, girl-next-door sort of way—and she gives me a quick, relieved smile.

  “Can I borrow you for a second?” I ask, drumming my fingers on the shiny oak surface.

  She doesn’t even question it, and gives Cora an almost apologetic half smile as she slips out from behind the bar and follows me.

  “Thanks,” she breathes, when we’re halfway across the Floor, and I pause, turning to her.

  She’s not watching me, but she’s aware of me—I can see it in the subtle tension as I focus on her, and the way she kind of sways toward me when a Domme leads her pony by us. Another Dom is watching, and I frown, tug her a little closer.

  Her gaze, a little amused, tracks my hand on her arm before it flicks up to mine. She’s wearing the absolutely absurd uniform of my club, and the collar, and she’s grinning at me like there’s no chance in hell I’ll touch her.

  I don’t touch the staff.

  It’s a rule. It’s my rule. I leave training to Mal and Wolf—I don’t like how messy crossing lines with the staff can become, and they trust me because of it.

  I see it in her eyes, the amusement dancing with a familiar comfort that is rubbing me the wrong way.

  “Do you trust me?” I ask.

  Something flickers in her eyes and she licks her lips. “Yes.”

  I smile, tight and hungry, and lean into her. Click a leather leash to the hoop hanging from her silver collar. “Bad idea, sweetheart.”

  She gasps—a sharp, shocked noise that hits my gut just right. I smile again, and tug lightly on her leash.

  “Charm,” she starts, and I jerk on her leash. She stumbles a step and I catch her jaw as I pull her up against me. She’s shaking, but her eyes are furious, and I’m not sure if the tremors are from outrage or arousal.

  “‘Sir’,” I murmur, correcting her, “unless you want to tap out and go back to work. No repercussions, pet, but do it before I get you in my ropes.”

  The shudder she gives isn’t fear. I wait for her to answer me aloud.

  “I trust you. Sir.”

  Beast is standing against the door to my dungeon. We keep a dozen empty rooms in the Kingdom, and the four of us each have one, rooms that are strictly for our personal use. Even Mal isn’t permitted in my dungeon without my express approval.

  The girl—Candy—is standing with him, all pale skin and black hair, and my steps falter for the first time.

  “Seriously, Charm?” Beast sighs. “What the fuck did I find her for, if you were going to find your own toy?”

  At the other end of my leash, my girl stiffens, and I glance at her.

  Holy hell, she’s gorgeous. There’s anger lighting up those pale blue eyes of hers. She inhales sharply and I almost want to let her go off, almost want to see what will happen. I get the feeling that this sweet girl in her little collar and sex-on-a-stick uniform is going to be a brat.

  It makes me grin. I kinda want to poke her just to see what will happen.

  For now, I tug sharply on her leash, and her eyes flash to mine, all fire and fury before she bites her lip and drops her head—for all appearances, she’s nothing more than a quiet little sub.

  “I like this one,” I say, shrugging.

  He growls at me, and nudges Candy away. “Go play, sweetheart. He’s busy tonight.”

  She gives me a longing sort of look, and one of loathing to my girl, whose head comes up and a smirk, smug and taunting, twists up her lips.

  Beast laughs softly. “You sure you're up for Celeste?”

  I smile a little coolly and step closer to him. His eyes dilate as I run a finger over the thick band of his collar.

  Beast might be my best friend and as close as a brother—might be a controlling partner in the Kingdom—but right now he's a sub in a collar challenging a Dom. I drop my voice and say, “You wanna take her place, Beastie?”

  He licks his lips and shakes his head. I see the arousal flash in his eyes before he smirks. “Not tonight, Charm.”

  I grin and tighten the slack on my leash. “Then get out of here.”

  He smiles at me, bright and too damn beautiful, and then he's gone, taking Candy with him, whistling cheerfully as I tug Celeste into my dungeon.

  Once the door closes behind me, I release her and she looks at me. I can see the nerves in her eyes, the ones she’s trying to hide.

  “What’s your safe word?” I ask, loosening the top button of my shirt. I refuse to wear the leather Wolf and Beast prefer—it’s absurd and it chafes, and my ass has never looked as good in it as Beast’s does.

  “Um. We can use the red light system,” she says, and I hesitate for a moment.

  She doesn’t want to give me her safeword. That disturbs me more than I want to admit.

  “Hard limits?”

  “Blood play and water sports.”

  I wait but she doesn’t say anything else, just rolls those pretty bare shoulders, and rocks back on her heels.

  She’s wearing these black stilettos, some absurd boot that comes up to her ankle, and spikes a good five inches.

  Interesting.

  “You can walk away,” I tell her again, and she arches an eyebrow at me, a little sassy.

  “You keep offering that, but I didn’t ask for it. Where do you want me?”

  I lick my lips. There’s the urge to tie her the wall and beat her—beat that sassy smile away—but I step forward to tug her wrists up. There’s a long chain hanging from the ceiling with a pair of cuffs dangling from the s-hook attached to it. Without speaking, I secure her there, looping her manacles together and clipping the connector to the s-hook. The chain hangs low—low enough that she stands comfortably, her heels barely suspended—and that smirk is still there.

  I smile. It won’t be for long.

  I lean into her, unable to resist, and kiss her. She gasps against my lips, a noise I swallow down, even as I keep the kiss light and chaste.

&nb
sp; As chaste as it can be, anyway, considering she’s chained in my dungeon.

  “Trust me?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she breathes, and I smile.

  Mal told me once that my smile could charm a nun out of her habit. I’ve never tried, but I do know it’s effective, and I see her relax a little in her cuffs.

  “Good.”

  I step away, and turn to my closet.

  Chapter 3.

  The silk is pale blue and cool against my hands when I loop it over her head, shining in the light of the candles I’ve lit. I’ve let her hair down, and she’s breathing harder now, anticipation stringing her muscles tighter. “Easy, princess,” I murmur as she makes a tiny gasp, her vision obscured by the blindfold. I smooth a hand over her shoulders and up her arms, and she settles a little, leaning into me. I smile and pull away.

  For a few moments, I stand still and silent, watching her, letting anticipation build, until she’s shivering.

  It occurs to me that I hated it when Candy sat at my feet and shivered. Celeste, shivering under my gaze, wearing my cuffs, however...

  I want her.

  It surprises the hell outta me.

  When I step up behind her, she whimpers, tensing under my hands as I work the laces on the front of her corset, watching over her shoulder as I reveal her creamy skin. Her tits are small and high, her nipples already pebbled and hard. She’s thin though, almost disturbingly so, and I frown as I finish unlacing the corset and tug it aside. The leather skirt is next, and she arches her ass out in invitation as I trail the zipper down with agonizing slowness.

  She’s wearing black satin panties, disappointingly plain, and I’m quiet as I run a hand over them.

  “Sorry. Didn’t think I’d be subbing tonight,” she breathes, and I pinch her nipple, hard—hard enough to earn a gasp.

  “Quiet, pet,” I say, and she nods hard, biting her lip. I drop to my knees as the skirt pools around her feet, and lift them one by one, helping her step out. I can’t resist running my hands up her legs as I stand and nipping at the curve of her shoulder as I tighten up the chain her cuffs are hooked to. She’s jerked up to her tiptoes and I smile at the distressed noise she makes.