Black Light: Charmed (Black Light Series Book 15) Read online

  Black Light: Charmed

  Jennifer Bene

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Chapter 1

  2. Chapter 2

  3. Chapter 3

  4. Chapter 4

  5. Chapter 5

  6. Chapter 6

  7. Chapter 7

  8. Chapter 8

  9. Chapter 9

  10. Chapter 10

  11. Chapter 11

  12. Chapter 12

  13. Chapter 13

  14. Chapter 14

  15. Chapter 15

  16. Chapter 16

  17. Chapter 17

  18. Chapter 18

  19. Chapter 19

  20. Chapter 20

  21. Chapter 21

  22. Chapter 22

  23. Chapter 23

  24. Chapter 24

  25. Chapter 25

  26. Chapter 26

  27. Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Jennifer Bene

  Books Released As Cassandra Faye

  Black Collar Press

  Get a FREE Black Light Book

  About this Book

  "Cassandra is everything I'm not. Kind, warm, optimistic... happy.

  If I was less of a selfish prick, I'd walk away. But I can't."

  It was supposed to be one night of fun, but ten months after Valentine Roulette Logan can't get the feisty model out of his head. She's invaded his dreams, ruined every session at Black Light, and it's been four months since she even returned a text.

  This isn't him.

  Logan Chisholm doesn't obsess over women.

  He doesn't replay every sweet cry he drew from their lips, doesn't remember the way their smile changes when they laugh, but Cassandra Moreira is different.

  He has to figure out if their chemistry was real... or just part of the game.

  Luckily, Christmas has come early this year, because she's back in L.A. and he's not letting her leave again without getting a second date.

  And this time he won't take no for an answer.

  Text copyright © 2019 Jennifer Bene

  Published by Black Collar Press

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN (e-book): 978-1-947559-24-0

  ISBN (paperback): 978-1-947559-25-7

  Cover design by Eris Adderly. http://erisadderly.com

  Edited by Nerine Dorman.

  Prologue

  Logan

  Black Light West

  The Night of Valentine Roulette

  “That all you got?” Cassandra asked, a laugh in her voice, and Logan grinned, twirling the paddle in his fingers right before he landed it across her perfect ass. She was looking back at him over her shoulder, her brown eyes full of fire, and the sweet little cry he earned from the swat had his dick throbbing… but there were so many things he wanted to do to her, had to do to her, before he satisfied that urge.

  “You’ve got a mouth on you, you know that?” he said, trying to sound commanding, intimidating, but something about this girl was already working its way under his skin. It was as if Cassandra Moreira was made of sunshine. She wasn’t shy, quiet, or meek like so many subs he’d played with — no, she was brazen. Bold. And sexy as fuck.

  It was distracting.

  “I’ve been told that before.” Her words started off sassy but ended with a groan as he set the next stroke of the paddle square across her sit spot. Watching her ass bounce, the sparkly faux gem on the buttplug between her cheeks glinting in the light, Logan knew he’d chosen right bidding on her tonight.

  “So, you’re a brat?” Running his hand over the heated skin on her backside, he squeezed tight and watched her bite down on her lower lip, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.

  “I don’t like labels.”

  “You listed yourself as a masochist,” he retorted, lining up and smacking the paddle right over the little butt plug. A quiet groan slipped out before she laughed softly, shaking her head.

  “That was just a tip that you don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass, sir.” That last word held way more sarcasm than it should have, no matter how much he liked her sass. Adjusting his grip on the paddle, he brought it down hard. The resounding pop seemed to echo off the walls nearby, and he finally got a whine out of her.

  “Better?” He was smiling victoriously, wondering if she’d make the same pretty sounds as he worked his fist inside her.

  “A little.”

  The laugh slipped out before he could stop it. He liked her already, and the night had barely begun, but Logan had a feeling that three hours would pass much too quickly with Cassandra as his submissive. Dropping the paddle to the floor with a loud clap, he walked over to his bag of toys and took out the oiled flogger. The edges had definite bite when he landed them just right, but he could back off easily as well if he found her limits.

  Perfect.

  “Say yellow if you need it, I’ve got plans for you, and I don’t need you calling red and ending our fun too soon.”

  “That won’t be a problem,” she challenged, glancing back over her shoulder at him, and he wished it was easier to see her expression without her craning her neck back. But… the spanking bench had cuffs, and he liked the way she looked bound to it with her soft brown skin reflecting the lights above.

  Plus, it put her in the perfect position for him to light her ass up after all of her sass.

  “Good to know it won’t be a problem,” he snarked in return, and landed the first swat much harder than he normally would. To his surprise, she almost purred. If there had ever been a noise that meant ‘green light,’ that was it, so he kept going.

  After a few minutes of the dark falls landing, snapping against her skin, she was whining, but there was no begging, no pleading, no sycophantic dramatics to get him to stop. If anything, she lifted her ass a little higher in the air, wordlessly begging for more even as the marks bloomed on her skin.

  “You’re definitely a masochist,” he said when he finally couldn’t resist touching her, stroking over the warm welts, squeezing hard to make her groan. That’s better.

  “I’m many things,” Cassandra answered after a minute, but it was a lot breathier this time, less sass.

  “Tell me something then.” Switching to the other side, he started up with the flogger again, watching her reactions with every slight increase in pressure — but she wasn’t backing down.

  “I’m a model.” It came out like she was rolling her eyes, and he was pretty sure she had. Naughty girl. With a flick of his wrist, he snapped the flogger so that the tips of the falls wrapped to the more sensitive skin on the outside of her hip, and she jerked against the bench.

  “Want to try again? Maybe a little more politely?”

  “Polite could have started with you not tearing my top,” she said, in a snippy tone, and he brought the flogger down just a little harder than before. Her whine was like music from the heavens.

  “Last chance.”

  “Fine…” She laughed, turning to look back at him, and he liked the flush in her cheeks that turned them just a little darker. “I’m not a girly-girl. I grew up with two
brothers, and no matter how much my mom dressed me up for pageants, I much preferred getting dirty down at the creek, and I still do.”

  The sudden, clear honesty made him hesitate on the next stroke, but as he looked over her face, he could tell it was true. Every word of it.

  “Thank you for that,” he answered, grinning before he swatted her again just to watch her grimace before she laid her cheek on the bench again. “Why’d you go into modeling then?”

  “Just because I like to get dirty doesn’t mean I don’t like to feel pretty sometimes too. Modeling is fun. I get to see the world, and it makes me happy. Isn’t that what life’s all about?”

  Great question.

  Instead of answering, he moved out of her line of sight, weaving the flogger back and forth across her ass and thighs, letting her soak in the moderate strokes while occasionally landing them hard enough to make her body jolt in the most beautiful ways.

  Cassandra Moreira was more than just a hot piece of ass: she was smart, unique, interesting. And she’d asked him a question that was making him way too introspective on a night that was supposed to be pure hedonistic pleasure. A particularly hard strike of the flogger only made her back arch a little, and he cursed himself for not paying attention better.

  She was floating, her body relaxed over the padded top of the spanking bench as her hips wavered side to side in a tease that had his hand cupping his dick through his slacks. Goddamn. I like this girl. Dropping the flogger onto his bag, he took a step back to appreciate the shine of wetness between her spread thighs.

  “You doing okay?” he asked, expecting a witty retort, but all he got was a pleased sigh and a nod that sent the halo of curls around her head bouncing. She was definitely hovering on the rim of subspace, and that was the perfect place to keep her as he moved close to drag his fingers through her soaked pussy. The soft moan that left her lips was fucking heaven.

  Damn.

  His dick throbbed behind his zipper, wanting to be buried inside her now, but they’d spun fisting, and if he didn’t get on track, one of the DMs was going to show up and bitch at him — which would pull Cassandra out of this almost sedate headspace. He wanted to keep her just like this.

  Sliding two fingers inside slowly, he watched every twitch of her muscles, the way her lips parted, back arching as she pushed back, wanting more. He added a third, reveling in the tight stretch. “You ready for this?”

  “For you to finally get started?” she purred, grinning. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

  “Naughty girl,” he growled, pumping all three fingers inside her harder. Cassandra’s hands turned into fists, and he knew that was as unconscious as her toes curling. “You better start calling me ‘sir’ or I’m gonna make this hurt.”

  “Promises, promises,” she said through a groan, and he pushed in all the way to the knuckle, feeling the way her body resisted, and although he knew he needed to grab a glove and the lube from his bag, he just wanted this for a minute longer. The DMs couldn’t fault him for enjoying being inside her the first time, and if Cassandra Moreira was as fantastic as she seemed to be, he promised himself it wouldn’t be the last.

  Not by a long shot.

  Chapter 1

  Logan

  Runway West

  December 6th

  The mansion was packed, and it looked completely different than it normally did when it was functioning as a dance club. All the lights were on, and white tablecloths had been placed over tables scattered throughout the various room, everything decorated tastefully so that the whole of Runway looked like Pottery Barn had been asked to create a minimalistic winter wonderland.

  It was… cute.

  Or whatever the fucking word was for this stuff, because it wasn’t exactly where Logan Chisholm usually found himself. He was only at the release party for Anna Casqueiro’s winter clothing line for one reason.

  Ten months. It had been ten fucking months since he’d had his hands on Cassandra Moreira, four months since she’d returned a text message, and he was still dreaming about her. Flashbacks to their intense time during Roulette pestered him in meetings and during scenes with other submissives — which was shitty, even for him.

  It was why he was here, skipping his afternoon at the office, and surrounded by sprigs of holly and fake snow while trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres floated past.

  I just need to get in front of her again.

  She’d been traveling so much during the year that every time he’d tried to get a date, she’d been unavailable. Rome, Paris, New York, Rio de Janeiro. Eventually he’d stopped texting and calling at all. He’d tried to salvage his pride, to move on, find another girl to keep his interest and let him scene out his stress on the weekends… but it didn’t work.

  Nothing worked.

  So, he’d forked over the cash for a VIP seat at this little fashion show, filled to the brim with Jaxson and Chase Cartwright-Davidson’s friends, because he’d seen her name on the list of models for the event. Pathetic? Absolutely. But his father had always told him that determination and persistence were the only ways to be successful in life. If you wanted something, you went for it with all you had, and one thing Logan had plenty of was money.

  “Chisholm! Is that you?” A male voice lifted his attention from the champagne in his hand, and he scanned the crowd until he saw a familiar dark-haired man headed in his direction. Forcing a polite smile, he accepted his hand when he got close.

  “Hey,” he replied, trying to place the man’s face in his memory. Usually he was good at this, but while he recognized the guy, he couldn’t remember from where.

  “It’s great to see you, man. Wow, it’s been, what, fifteen years since Yale?” The man laughed, tilting his head back to finish his glass of champagne, and Logan followed suit as he realized who it was. Derrick Mathers.

  “About fifteen,” Logan acknowledged, keeping his smile in place even though he wanted to avoid the idiot.

  “God, time does fly though, doesn’t it?” Derrick chuckled, spinning to snag a glass of champagne from a passing tray. “Want one?”

  “Sure.” He took the new flute, letting the young woman take his empty one as she offered him a blushing smile. Not here for you, sweetheart. When he turned his gaze back to Derrick, she wandered off, and he turned on the bullshit. “You’re right though, it does feel like it’s been a long time. What brings you to L.A.?”

  “Oh, you know, I’ve always dabbled in different things.” Shrugging, Derrick offered a smarmy grin. “Have to keep busy, but my wife and I are out here right now so that she can sign a deal with a production company to feature some of her products.”

  “Ah,” Logan answered, trying not to sound too interested, but it was already clear that Derrick was going to keep talking.

  “Very hush hush, of course.” He winked, and Logan took a long drink of his champagne, wishing it was something else. “I really shouldn’t even be telling you about it, but Amber’s little skincare empire has been dragging us all over the world. It’ll be in Nordstrom next year.”

  “How wonderful for you.” Feigning interest was a skill Logan had never quite mastered, but something about him seemed to invite idiots to talk to him.

  “That’s how I ended up at this show. Amber heard someone talking about it and just had to get us seats. Trying to make some friends out here, more connections. You know how it is. Got to keep working even when you’re not.” Derrick chuckled. “So, did your wife drag you here as well?”

  “No,” he answered as a flash of blonde hair moving quickly through the crowd caught his eye, and before Derrick could continue talking, he raised a hand. “I’m sorry, I see someone I need to speak with.”

  “Oh, sure, sure. We can catch up later!” Derrick called out as he moved past the man, tracking Madison Taylor through the crowd.

  The complicated layout to Runway made it hard to keep his eye on her, but he had a feeling she was headed back to where the dance floor usually was, and he side-stepped people
as he hurried that direction.

  This is different.

  The main dance floor had been transformed. No lasers and multi-colored lights today. The bright chandeliers in the ceiling were glowing brightly, and winter sunlight spilled through the huge oval skylight above and the patio windows on either side, lighting up the pristine white runway that was set up in the center of the room. White chairs were already crowded around it in rows, but Madison was skirting the outside of the room, and Logan caught up to her just before she slipped through the doors to the patio.

  “Ms. Taylor!”

  She stopped on a dime, spinning in her sky-high heels as she turned to face him. The girl was tiny, and she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze, her brows furrowing. “I’m sorry, sir, you’ll need to wait outside until we call everyone in.”

  “I understand, I just wanted to ask you if Cassandra Moreira was here yet.” He tried to sound steady, confident, but he’d felt the nervous tremor go through him as he’d said her name.

  What if she had to cancel? What if she’s not even here?

  Madison Taylor didn’t answer immediately, scrutinizing his face for a long moment before her eyes widened slightly. “You were partnered with her for Roulette!” she said too loudly, groaning under her breath before she stepped in close to lower her voice to a whisper. “Look, this is not that kind of event. Ms. Moreira is here as a model, and she’s doing this show as a favor to Chase, so if you have any plans to—”