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  Invitation to Ecstasy

  Nina Pierce

  A woman unwilling to trust… Sara Lancaster isn’t sure accepting her invitation to a BDSM weekend at XTC Resort is a good idea—though she does have something to prove. Years of abuse at the hand of her former Master have taken their toll. Now, two years later, Sara believes she’s ready to embrace her submissive side once again and enjoy the carnal pleasures of a younger Dom.

  A man testing his limits… Derek Thomas has lost belief in his abilities as a Master. Accepting an invitation for Dom training could be exactly what he needs to regain his self-confidence. Challenged with an experienced older woman, he soon realizes wielding a flogger isn’t always enough to break down the emotional walls and heal a damaged submissive.

  Two people with something to prove… Sara and Derek sizzle with sexual heat the moment they step into the dungeon. The mind-blowing sex and physical pain may satisfy their bodies, but wounded souls and broken spirits just may require something even more intimate—their hearts.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Invitation to Ecstasy

  ISBN 9781419935329

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Invitation to Ecstasy Copyright © 2011 Nina Pierce

  Edited by Mary Moran

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication August 2011

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

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  Invitation to Ecstasy

  Nina Pierce

  Chapter One

  Sara Lancaster had definitely made the wrong decision.

  Less than twenty-four hours ago she was sure this weekend was just what she needed. Eight hours ago, excitement had fluttered in her stomach as she’d left Boston, overjoyed to accept the invitation. Hell, just two hours ago she’d been giddy with anticipation as she’d collected her bags at the Key West airport and caught a taxi to the boat landing.

  But her tiny apartment and the bungalow where she currently stood weren’t merely thousands of miles apart—a whole world separated the comfortable life she’d finally made for herself and the fantasy she was standing in.

  What the hell had she been thinking?

  Sara was fooling herself. Life didn’t offer people second chances. No one understood that better than her. The fates dealt crappy cards and a person either played them to the best of their ability or they folded and left everything to chance. Sara had tried it both ways and neither method had netted her anything but heartache and pain.

  And a person could live with pain.

  But heartache? Heartache ripped at the soul, leaving gaping holes of emptiness that nothing could fill—not even pain.

  The tropical breeze lifted her hair and she absently brushed it out of her face. The salty aroma of the ocean curled around her nose, bringing back memories she’d stored away and tried to forget. Toying with the gold and sapphire choker in her hands, she let the tides of the past flow over her. Tears welled unbidden, distorting the sugar-white sand and turquoise ocean spread out before her. Sara thought she’d gotten beyond it all, but the memories expanded and crashed over the walls of her heart. Misery rushed in but still left her feeling hollow and alone.

  Yes, this really had been a bad decision.

  A knock at her door pulled her from her morose thoughts.

  “I’m coming.” She swiped her hand across her cheeks, trying to brush away the sadness as she rushed off the veranda and back through the sliding glass doors and into her room. She threw the choker on the end table next to the sitting area, nearly tripping over the overflowing suitcase she’d yet to completely unpack.

  Inhaling a steadying breath, she forced a smile and opened the door. Her guest didn’t wait for a welcome. Burly arms swept her off her feet into a bear hug and swung her out the door.

  “Sara!” A deep laugh rolled over her, soothing away the misery of a moment ago. “I knew you couldn’t avoid me forever.”

  Despite the sorrow clogging her throat, a nasally laugh escaped. The big man set her back on her feet, his huge frame towering over her as they stood toe to toe on the stone path outside her bungalow.

  “Ethan Jacobs.” Her palm curved around his strong jaw and he breathed deep, as if he could inhale her presence. “I’ve missed you, dear friend.” Tears stung the back of her eyes. She shouldn’t have stayed away so long.

  He stooped to look her in the eyes. “Hey, those had better be tears of overwhelming happiness at seeing me again.”

  Her mouth curved in the semblance of a smile. “I thought I was ready…” She paused, knowing that Ethan, of all people, understood without her having to explain her trepidation.

  “Has it really been three years?” he asked quietly, steering their conversation to a more comfortable topic. “I feel like you were here yesterday. You look as young as the day we first met.”

  Though she worked out regularly, thirty-seven years of gravity were working hard to sink the parts of her body Sara was trying to keep afloat. No doubt the long travel day accentuated the crow’s feet scratching at the corners of her eyes. She definitely wasn’t a college coed anymore, but she appreciated his flattery nonetheless. “You’re a liar, Ethan Jacobs. But thank you.” She ran her hand over the white polo sleeve that barely contained the muscular curve of his biceps. “You, on the other hand, look better than ever. I guess managing the resort has treated you well.”

  “It’s a rough gig, living here in paradise with beautiful men and women running around half naked.” He shrugged. “But hey, someone’s got to do it, and I’m willing to take one for the team.”

  “Very noble of you.”

  “I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”

  “You are that, Ethan.” She laughed and invited him into her bungalow. The initial punch of seeing him had worn off, leaving only the comfortable friendship that had developed over too many bottles of wine, late dinners and life lessons. It had been the last that had solidified their bond.

  “I was pleased you accepted my invitation, Sara.” Ethan settled in one of the leather chairs in the corner of the room. “I debated whether to even send it.”

  She’d known this conversation would be coming, and she tried to ignore the dread knotting cold and hard in her gut. “It’s hard to say no to you, Ethan.” Sara reminded herself it was all part of the healing proc
esses and no one could help her over this final barrier better than Ethan. Needing to keep busy, she grabbed two bottles of water from the mini-fridge and handed one to him before settling in an identical chair across from him. “Though it was a little bit of a shock to find it mixed in so innocently with the sale flyers and electric bill after so many years.” She laughed.

  “I figured it was time. You’ve been in Chicago a couple of times in the last few months, I figured you were working your way back into the scene,” he said. Casually tipping back the bottle, he took a long pull, his eyes never leaving hers.

  The water bottle froze halfway to her mouth before she dropped her hand to her lap in stunned disbelief. Water sloshed onto her bare thigh, but she barely noticed the chill. What the hell? With just a simple sentence, Ethan turned their happy reunion into something ugly. The feelings she’d been working to dismiss steamrolled over her heart, keeping her from replying. Hell, at the moment, she couldn’t even swallow her fear and incredulity. He’d spoken the words so nonchalantly, but they implied something she didn’t want to contemplate.

  Leaning forward, he braced his forearms on his knees, his eyes turning to deep pools of ebony. “It’s a small world we live in, Sara. You didn’t think after all that happened I wouldn’t be watching over you?”

  “Spying on me is more like it.” Anger blossomed hot and hard in her chest, making it hard to breathe. How dare he? Unable to handle the turmoil of emotion bubbling inside her, Sara pushed to her feet and stalked away from him, hoping the space would allow her to think. “I thought you were different.”

  “Sara—”

  “No.” She turned on him, venom dripping from the word. “No, Ethan. You can’t justify this. I walked away, and there’s no way in hell you should have followed. Not after everything I’d been through.”

  “Bullshit!”

  Ethan slammed the water bottle on the table next to him. He was up and standing only inches from her in a single breath. She craned her neck to look at him and it took every bit of willpower not to cower at the intensity of emotion flaring in the narrow slits of his eyes and the hard set of his mouth.

  “That’s bullshit and you know it,” he said through clenched teeth. “It was because of what you went through that I did it. Marc was one of my first regulars here at XTC Resorts. I considered him a friend. What he did was reprehensible. Forgive me if I haven’t forgiven myself for everything you went through.”

  She should have known Ethan would lay their ugly history on the table. But what he’d just admitted didn’t make sense. Ethan was a Dom. Aware and in charge of his environment. “Your responsibility?” She softened. “How could you blame yourself?”

  “It all happened on Paradise Cove. In my dungeon.” The knife edge of self-recrimination dissolved into disappointment. “I should have known what Marc was putting you through. I should have seen it. That’s my job. But more importantly, you’re my friend and I let you down.”

  She shook her head, denying his words, knowing it had taken a long time to stop blaming Ethan for ever having introduced her to her late husband. But years of therapy and a new life had helped her realize it had been her mistake. A mistake she had no intention of repeating—ever.

  Ethan’s long fingers swept hair from her forehead, his piercing gaze raking her face, conveying the profound sorrow they both felt. “An apology doesn’t begin to cover what I owe you, Sara. But if I could take all the years back…”

  The knots of tension in her shoulders and stomach released. Ethan hadn’t been spying. He’d been watching over her. Despite the fact that he was four years her junior, Ethan had always been as protective as a big brother. Years and circumstances would never change that.

  “No, the blame falls squarely on my shoulders alone.” She covered his hand with hers and leaned into his touch. “I loved him too much,” she said quietly. “Was willing to give up too much.”

  “Still, there were signs I missed.”

  “I should have been brave enough to ask for help.”

  “But I—”

  She silenced him with a finger to his lips. “Ethan, no one but Marc is to blame, and if he weren’t dead, I’d kill him all over again.” She tried to lighten the mood, but her joke fell flat. “Anyway, I stopped playing the blame game years ago. Coulda, woulda, shoulda won’t change the past for any of us, and it’s time we all move on.” She wrapped her arms around him, finding comfort in the solid warmth of his embrace. “Obviously since I’m playing in Chicago, I’m trying to find the balance in my life again.”

  He gently kissed her forehead and steered them back to the chairs. “Sara, it wasn’t like I was spying on you.”

  “Of course you weren’t. It was a knee-jerk reaction,” she said, settling on the edge of the chair and setting the water bottle on the floor. “It just sort of took me by surprise when you mentioned Chicago, though I don’t know why. I mean, I did flaunt myself at your old BDSM club on more than one occasion.” She shrugged and wrapped her hands around Ethan’s. “I guess even I thought they’d look after me.”

  “I made sure of it.” He winked.

  “I have no intention of history repeating itself. I’ve definitely learned from my mistakes.” Her lips curved in a trembling semblance of a smile. “But a little backup never hurt.”

  He laughed—a deep rumble that seemed to smooth the rocky ground they were navigating. “What I don’t understand is why you didn’t go to the clubs in Boston.” He shrugged, giving up any pretense of secrecy. “I had people there watching too.”

  “Riiiiight. I’m sure Boston General would love to find out that Nurse Lancaster of the pediatric wing has a thing for leather and bondage.”

  “I meant discreet clubs.”

  “Yeah, well, Chicago just seemed safer all the way around.” Though they had found equilibrium again, her confession made her restless. Sara picked up the water bottle again, toying with the label. “I actually went there to prove to myself that I didn’t want it anymore.”

  “And?”

  “And I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Some things are a part of us, Sara. Ignoring your sexuality would leave you incomplete.”

  “I wanted to walk away, to blame my shortcomings on the lifestyle. But the truth is being submissive is who I am. I just happened to give the honor of dominating me to the wrong man.” She took a long swallow of water, washing away the hot coal of sadness burning her throat. “And that will never happen again, I assure you. This is a new chapter for me. Unencumbered sex. No attachment. Your invitation couldn’t have come at a better time.”

  “I’m really glad you accepted. I’ve missed you.” He picked up the gold choker on the table next to him, toying with the sapphire pendant. “I thought you would have left this behind with the relics of your former life.”

  “That choker had nothing to do with Marc and everything to do with a dear friend.” Ethan had given it to her on one of Sara’s many visits to XTC Resorts before she’d met her husband. With no one left to celebrate her birthdays, Ethan had surprised her with a small party and the beautiful piece of jewelry. It meant more to her than the vows she had recited a year later. She’d hidden it from her jealous husband and only recently had begun wearing it again. “It was a gift, given in love. Of course I couldn’t part with it.”

  He arched a well-manicured brow. “It has nothing to do with me. It’s about who you are. You know it and I know it.”

  She sat back, a smile lifting one corner of her mouth. “Yeah, well, like I said, my fetish is what drives me. I tried dating men who weren’t in the scene, but there was something missing.” She shrugged. “I march to the snap of a different kind of whip, what can I say?”

  “Don’t let my guests hear you saying that. We work very hard to convince them they’re normal.” He laughed as he winked at her, both of them enjoying the lighthearted banter.

  Sara shook her head, still unsure of her decision to accept Ethan’s invitation. “After all I’ve been through,
it just seems so foolish for me to be opening myself up to it all again.”

  “Sara, your sexual propensities are hardwired into you…into all of us. There is no black-and-white when it comes to the human psyche, only varying shades of leather.”

  She laughed.

  “If you had become a nun and given up sex, I guess I could see you walking away from the scene.” He reverently set the gold choker in her palm, wrapping her fingers around the warm metal. “But being submissive is as much a part of you as your gorgeous blue eyes.”

  She bravely met his gaze. “It took me awhile to come to terms with it, but that’s the conclusion I’ve come to as well.”

  “Are you really ready for this?”

  “Being a submissive to a bunch of greenhorned Doms for a training weekend is a walk in the park. There isn’t enough pain in the world that will allow any of them into my heart. Trust me on that one, Ethan.”

  * * * * *

  Derek Thomas sat in a shadowed corner of Paradise Cove’s fetish club, trying to come to his senses. He wondered if the subtle strobe lights pulsing in rhythm with the driving beat of the music were making it hard for him to gather his thoughts. Perhaps it was the nearly naked flesh wrapped in soft leather that made it difficult to rethink his decision. He doubted it. Those were things he could easily ignore.

  As he toyed with the moisture beaded on the highball glass in front of him, a beautiful woman brushed a little too close to his booth. Dressed only in strips of leather that left nothing to the imagination, the submissive shot him a pleading glance. It was that look, that need that stirred something deep within him, short-circuiting his rational thoughts.

  He didn’t want to feel it. Didn’t want to acknowledge the longing those sidelong glances invited. He’d convinced himself he’d buried the need months ago—right next to his career.