Take Me Now (Take Me Series) Read online

  TAKE ME

  NOW

  Book One of the TAKE ME Series

  BY

  BRANDY KAYNE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Brady Thompson opened Sari’s email and read it for the third time since that morning.

  Ok, so I’m like a bitch in heat.

  When I’m with you–I’m your bitch.

  You asked me what I wanted, well here it is…

  I want your wet tongue slipping in my ear; your lips nipping at my lobe; your hot breath panting against my neck; your mouth trailing a line to my breast, teasing my nipples into firm peaks, then moving to my navel, then lower–parting my lips, sucking on them, tasting me while your fingers dip inside of me.

  I want my lips circling the rim of your shaft, my tongue gliding along the length of it, my mouth sucking you until you’re hard and swollen and beading with semen. When you’re ready, lay me back and plunge deep, deeper still–filling me. Stroke me long and slow, then faster and harder until you’re ready to cum.

  Then pullout, and let me taste you. Slip your penis between my breasts and let me work my magic on you, bringing you to orgasm, feeling your hot semen exploding against my mouth… Are you aroused? Are you hard, distended and throbbing?

  Ok, your turn… tell me what YOU want.

  He leaned back in his chair. Each fantasy was more detailed and hotter than the last, but he wanted to know more–what was Sari’s body experiencing–was she quivering, was she wet between her thighs, were her nipples aroused and aching? By this time tomorrow, he would have his answer. His tongue would be exploring every inch of her body from her wet lips to the sweet flesh between her thighs.

  He copied the email, created a new folder under the file labeled “Homework,” pasted it and save it. If Sari knew that he was hacking into her email she’d cream those pretty lace panties of hers. Not only had he hacked into her mail, but her manuscript and every file that was associated with TAKE ME NOW, the collection of erotic fantasies that she and Lana Goldberg, a ghostwriter from LA, were collaborating on.

  Sari and Lana had been sending tidbits back and forth for the past several months. Now, he was going to fulfill each and every one of them: unravel her ponytail and twist her honey colored hair in his fist; jerk her head back and smother her mouth with his kisses; trail his lips over every inch of her body; tease her clit with his tongue, slide it deep inside of her and taste her; bring her to arousal; hear her cry out and beg him to take her.

  As if her fantasies weren’t enough to arouse him, that sweet, string bikini that she’d worn to the country club last week barely covered her nipples much less anything else. She was gorgeous and she didn’t know it.

  Brady felt the swelling of his penis. Damn, she’d done it to him again. Realizing where his thoughts were taking him, he abruptly wiped the memory from his slate. Exiting his email, he scrolled down to the Copper file and opened it. The graphics need sharpening and more detail, he thought. Maybe less red and more blue.

  He couldn’t concentrate. He needed coffee.

  Grabbing his mug, he started across the room. From the corner of his eye he noticed Sari watching him from behind the glass doors of her office, conveniently situated directly across the hall from the lounge. He turned his head and deliberately flashed a wicked smile. Her cheeks flushed and she looked down at her keyboard. He loved the way that she blushed when he noticed her staring–that he held that kind of power over her. He’d bet his paycheck that her nipples were stiff and pointed; that her legs were parted and hot liquid dampened her panties.

  He had been the one that Sari had been fantasizing about, he was dead sure of it. Why else would her cheeks turn to every shade of red when he smiled at her? From day one when he started at the firm, he’d been attracted to her and considered asking her out. That is, until he overheard her speaking with Heidi about her novel. After that, his agenda changed and he decided that playing the game would be far more erotic.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Sari sipped her coffee and cursed that Brady had seen her gawking at him, and it wasn’t the first time. But damn, if he wasn’t handsome with his dark chocolate hair, soft against his shoulders and his smooth tanned skin. She’d give anything to run her fingers through it. And his body–whether dressed in a suit or tight, faded denim, riding low on his hips–Brady had a body to die for. She’d goggled over him at the country club–his broad shoulders; his solid rock muscles; the bulge in his cutoffs that sent her through the roof. From what she had seen of his package straining against the wet denim, it was easy to image him stroking her clit with the tip of it then filling her with the length of it.

  She turned red again, and hoped that he wasn’t looking. Just the memory of his hot, rigid body, glistening with beads of water, sent an electrifying tingle deep inside of her. For months, Brady had been the inspiration of her fantasies for her first novella. The notion of writing an erotic romance had been on the back burner for years, but it hadn’t sprouted wings until Brady joined the firm last September. Now, he was all that she’d thought about, and every time that he smiled at her she turned beet red as if he could read her every thought, her every fantasy of him.

  So far, she’d only written articles for fashion magazines–a far cry from writing a book. In January, she teamed up with Lana Goldberg, a ghostwriter of erotic and sensual novels. For months they’d been sharing ideas and fantasies. If all went as planned, “Take Me Now,” the first in the series, would be ready for the editor before Christmas.

  Brandy Kayne was the name that she had chosen to use as the author. There was no way in hell that she wanted her birth name, Sari Coventry associated with something so erotic. Not that she was ashamed of the subject of her writing, but because of the innuendos and whispers that would accompany it. Of family, friends and coworkers questioning how much of it she actually experienced–the reality from the fantasy. Not to mention that the context would influence the type of men who asked her for a date.

  Brandy Kayne. Sari said the name in her head several times. She liked the ring of it. Despite that she received a lot of flak from Lana because of its resemblance to Candycane, she always liked the name Brandy. As for Kayne, it was the last name of a school boy that she’d had a crush on in the eleventh grade.

  Her eyes followed Brady down the hall and through the doors toward his office. She loved his slow, easy gait, the confidence in his walk. She was glad that he didn’t work in the same department–she’d never survive it. Hell, she couldn’t even find the courage to speak with him for fear that she’d fumble on her words and drool like a love-sick schoolgirl.

  Instead, she’d kept her distance, and for that matter, so had he. Brady Thompson was well out of her league. She had no clue why he was working in the graphics art department when he could be modeling or acting.

  She looked up at the clock on her wall. It was half past four. A half an hour more of Brady’s torture and she’d be free of him for the week. She was leaving for Denver on Monday to vacation with her friend, Abby. She’d been excited about the trip for weeks. She and Abby had met in college, graduated and parted to pursue their careers. They hadn’t seen each other in over a year and would probably spend their first day together catching up.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Brady returned to his desk, opened his email and considered his reply to Sari. He smiled a knowing smile. She had no idea that she was going to be his for the week. That she was going to experience each and every one of her fantasies in the flesh.

  Everything was in order. He’d gotten the go-ahead from his boss to take the week off from work; rented the cabin at Deerfield; and purchased the duct tape, the silk scarf, the ski mask and the leather restraints that Sari had mentioned in he
r writings.

  He knew her routine like the back of his hand. She followed it like clockwork. On Friday evenings before leaving the office, she would phone Ching-Lees and place an order for the General Taos Chicken to go. After depositing her paycheck, she would swing by O’Malley’s for a bottle of Riesling. When she arrived home, she’d plop down on the sofa with her first glass of wine and watch the CNN news while she ate her dinner.

  When she finished her meal, she would pour another glass of Riesling, leaving it on the counter, stopping to sip it while she passed from room to room, running the bath water, lighting the candles of oleander, pulling her clothes from the dryer and phoning her mother. He would make use of this small window of opportunity to spike her wine.

  Taking her wine to the bath, Sari would soak in the tub for twenty or thirty minutes then curl up in her bed with a good novel. He knew her so well, and he was about to get to know her even more intimately than her fantasies suggested.

  He had already been to her house a handful of times to run through his plan. First, he’d take a taxi to Lynnewood then walked the quarter of a mile to Avendale and turn down the alley behind her house–reaching Sari’s about a half an hour before she did, and slipping in through the side door of the garage which was always unlocked.

  Brady sipped the dregs of his coffee. If all went as planned, he would spike Sari’s wine and sweep her away to the cabin on the top of the mountain, arriving there some time before midnight.

  He opened his email and reread the latest fantasy that Sari had sent to Lana. The first two lines caught his eye.

  Ok, so I’m like a bitch in heat.

  When I’m with you–I’m your bitch.

  Then he read the last line.

  Ok, your turn… tell me what YOU want.

  Damn, if his prick wasn’t hard again. He wanted to give her something to think about–short and sweet. He drew a sharp breath and typed.

  I want YOU. I want you squirming and screaming for me to fuck you. I’m through with waiting–it’s game time, Sari.

  Brady read what he had written. A devious smile crossed his lips. That would definitely give her something to think about. He read it again and pushed “Send.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Sari looked at the clock and frowned. “Ten minutes.” She closed her files, then opened her e-mail, staring dumbfounded at the most recent message from Lana. The overtone was odd. The message was short and blunt with none of the remarks, suggestions or additions that usually accompanied Lana’s replies. And stranger still–Lana had used the name Sari, rather than Brandy.

  Her eyes focused on the words game time. She had no clue what the post meant, or how to reply to it. She thought of Abby and Denver, and decided to deal with it later. Closing out her e-mail, she shut down her computer, dialed Ching-Lees and order dinner.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Brady grabbed his mug. He could use one last cup of coffee. It was going to be a long night. He strolled down the hall, filled his mug three quarters full, added cream and two sugars and glanced through the glass at Sari. She was staring intently at her monitor. From the expression on her face she had gotten Lana’s email–his email. He had Sari exactly where he wanted her–confused and thinking. He turned away with a smug smile and started for the parking garage.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sari climbed from the tub. She wasn’t feeling well. Slipping into her robe and panties, she removed the pins from her hair and ran the brush through it. She barely had the energy for that. She needed to lie down. Dropping the brush, she started for the bedroom, but her legs were rubbery and scarcely carried her weight. Her head swam and she suddenly felt dizzy. She leaned into the doorframe to keep from fainting. She hadn’t consumed that much wine. No, it was more like she’d been drugged. Immediately, she shrugged the thought. She didn’t want to think about it. She needed to lie down. Now!

  Taking a deep breath, she headed for the bed, one slow step at a time. She was nearly there when a gloved hand snaked around her waist and another clamp down over her mouth. Panic soared through every nerve. She fought and kicked until there was no fight left in her. Her body went limp and she had no control over it. She had been drugged.

  An instant later, she felt the duct tape pressed over her lips and sealed around the edges; the blindfold placed over her eyes; being carried off then dropped to her bed, bottom up; her arms pulled behind her; the rope slipped around her wrists and tightened. She was vulnerable and helpless. Her stomach quivered. Her breath caught in her throat. Fear ripped through every cell in her brain. It was like something out of a film, novel or fantasy–not something that was suppose happen to her.

  A wicked smile curled Brady’s lips as he gazed down at her. His eyes lingered on her firm, round bottom and the sky blue lace of her panties peeking from beneath her short attire. He felt the lengthening of his penis, and swore beneath his breath, cursing that she had done it to him again. He had wanted this for weeks, planned every detail, but the anticipation of the game aroused him much too quickly. Not here, he thought, dryly. He had to get her to the cabin, and without a moment to spare. Tugging on her robe, he covered her bottom and crossed the room to her computer.

  Logging in, he cancelled Sari’s reservations for Denver: the flight; hotel; and rental car. He typed an e-mail to her friend Abby, informing her that she’d had an emergency and regretted that she wouldn’t be able to fly out for the week, as planned. Smiling, he pushed “send” and shut down the computer. Crossing the room to the bathroom, he blew out the candles.

  Sari felt the air rush from her lungs as strong arms hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her from the house. An inherent fear raced through her. Fight or flight. She tried to kick, but her mind couldn’t relay the message to her legs. She heard the crick of the vehicle’s door as it opened and she was laid on the back seat, face down. The scent of oleander drifted to her nostrils. It was her car, she realized.

  Brady closed the car door and returned to the house for one quick sweep to be sure that he hadn’t forgotten anything. His eyes stopped when they spotted the small suitcase in the corner. As an afterthought, he grabbed it and threw it into the back of the SUV.

  Turning the key in the ignition, he hit the remote for the garage door then turned down Avendale toward the highway. His plan was going better than he could have hoped for. He tilted the rearview mirror until Sari came into view. Though her face was turned away from him, he could see that her body was unmoving beneath her robe. She probably wouldn’t awaken until they reached the cabin.

  Sari struggled to stay alert, but the instant that the SUV rolled down the driveway, she slipped into darkness. She was vaguely aware of the door opening and being hauled from the back seat. The scent of pine evoked the memory of camping in the mountains with her family as a child. Turning over rocks and looking for salamanders, hiking to the waterfall and dipping her feet into the icy runoff of snow, herds of deer and elk.

  Suddenly, she was jolted from her musing. Fear, unlike anything she’d known, catapulted her to awareness. She was not with her family. She’d been taken captive, and by whom or for whatever reason, she hadn’t a clue. It was the not knowing that scared the hell out of her.

  If only she could flee, but she couldn’t run, much less walk, even if her life depended on it. She shuddered with apprehension. The entire scenario was vaguely familiar, but her mind was a blur and she wanted nothing more than to return to sleep. At least in her dreams she felt somewhat safe. As if her abductor had read her mind, she was gently eased onto a mattress.

  She felt the tug of the rope. An instant later, her hands were free and she was rolled to her back. The powerful muscles of the man’s thighs straddled her hips. Somewhere between her dreams and wakefulness, she felt one wrist, then the other, lifted above her head and stretched to the side. She tugged and pulled, but the leather was snug against her flesh and there was no room to give.

  “Oh God!” Her words were no more than a muffled whimper through the duct tap
e. Then, she felt his fingers on her face, peeling the tape free of her mouth, gently, so as not to hurt her. They were soft hands–not the hands of a woodsman or construction worker.

  When he finished, she drew a quick breath of air, releasing a gasp of alarm a moment later when those same hands lifted her chin and drew an imaginary line to the hollow of her throat, sliding to the opening of her robe and lingering for several seconds before withdrawing.

  “What do you want with me,” she whispered.

  She smelled the scent of oleander. Every sensory in her body went on alert as the memory rushed back to her, hitting her with the realization that this was a scene right out of the pages of her novel. If her captor followed the script she was in for the ride of her life. Who was he that he knew so much about her most intimate secrets?

  Lana came to mind. This had to be one of her pranks. She must have hired someone to play this cruel joke on her. No, Lana wouldn’t do something like that.

  Sari couldn’t think clearly. She didn’t want to think. Her mind was clouded and all she desired was for her captor to go away and allow her to sleep.

  Suddenly, she thought of the email from Lana–I want YOU. I want you squirming and screaming for me to fuck you. I’m through with waiting–it’s game time, Sari.

  “Oh, God,” the voice in her head panicked. What if the message hadn’t come from Lana but from her abductor? Her pulse instantly spiked with fear. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

  “Who are you?”

  “I am every fantasy that you have ever imagined, Sari. By the end of the week you’ll be surrendering to me. You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say those three simple words–Take me now.”