No Limits: A Dark Romance Read online

  No Limits

  A Dark Romance

  Lauren Landish

  Edited by

  Valorie Clifton

  Contents

  Introduction

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Off Limits: A Bad Boy Romance

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Relentless

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chanter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Bought: Highest Bidder

  About the Author

  Also by Lauren Landish

  Copyright © 2016 by Lauren Landish.

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design © 2016 by Supahkawaii Covers.

  Cover Model: Johnny Kane.

  Photography by Eric Battershell.

  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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  All characters are 18+ years of age and non-blood related, and all sexual acts are consensual.

  Introduction

  She thinks she’s a monster. But I’m the monster.

  I’m a ruthless perfectionist who’s never needed love. It’s a worthless emotion that makes you weak, and I’m anything but weak. I haven’t let a soul get close to me. No one’s ever made me feel a damn thing.

  Until Shawnie. My angel.

  I knew from the moment I saw her that she was different. She’s scarred and broken, running from a past that haunts her. But her wings aren’t broken like she thinks. Her past hasn’t destroyed her, and I can show her what she’s worth.

  I want her with an intensity that I’ve never felt before. Her large light amber eyes shine with vulnerability. Her lush curves and full, kissable lips call to me in a way that leaves me breathless. They beg me to take her and make her mine.

  But my secrets threaten to take too much from her. I should stay away. There’s a darkness in me that craves the depravity she desires. She wants to serve and obey, and I’m more than happy to fill those needs.

  For the first time in my life, she makes me feel like a man and not a monster. This time, I won’t be denied.

  **No Limits is a full-length Dark Romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

  No Limits is a followup to Off Limits, however you do not need to read it beforehand. Off Limits is Dane & Abby’s story, and they play a very minor role in No Limits. You’ll also get more insight into Shawnie’s backstory. For a limited time, Off Limits is included as a bonus at the end.

  Join my mailing list and receive 2 FREE ebooks! You’ll also be the first to know of new releases, sales, and giveaways.

  Prologue

  Shawnie

  The cool air gently tickles my bare skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. My forehead is resting on the ground as I wait for him, my Master. I’ll stay in this position until he tells me otherwise. I’ll do anything for him. Everything for him.

  “Come to me, my Angel.” Hearing his nickname for me sends a thrill through me. Angel. I’m anything but. I’ve never felt deserving, not since that hot summer day in Georgia. I thought it was a trick at first, but now I believe him. I trust him and everything he says. Still . . . Angel. I’m not quite used to it yet.

  I fight the urge to look up at the sound of his deep voice filled with seductive power. For a moment, I try to resist, but I quickly give up. There’s no point in fighting.

  When he asks, I obey. I live only to serve him now. Not by force, but by choice. His needs are my needs. He owns my pleasure and I want to be rewarded so badly. I need it. I need his acceptance, his approval, his love. I finally raise my eyes slightly and see him. My lungs still at the sight of his black silk dress pants and his white shirt unbuttoned at the chest, showcasing his hard, tanned skin underneath.

  Fuck, he’s so sexy. I can hardly believe he’s chosen me. I’m not worthy, but for some reason, he’s picked me. My heart skips a beat at the thought. It’s still so surreal.

  My breath comes out in ragged pants, and I slowly crawl forward on my hands and knees, keeping my head lowered to the floor. The carpet in the bedroom is soft on my knees and palms as I make my way to him. I’ll do this for as long as I have to. As long as he tells me to. Whenever he tells me.

  The memories that haunt me flash before my eyes so quickly, but they’re gone in an instant. My shoulders hunch forward and my eyes close tightly. I don’t want to remember what happened. What that psycho did to me.

  “Hush, Angel,” Rafe says softly. From somewhere above me, his deep voice washes over me like a soothing balm. “You’re with me.” I start with surprise. I didn’t realize I had whimpered out loud, betraying the inner turmoil roiling through my mind. “I’ve got you.”

  My limbs relax slightly at his words. “Please, Master,” I whisper so quietly that I’m not even sure that he hears me. “Make it go away.”

  I stay kneeled before him in supplication, waiting for my next command. I want him to see how eager I am to serve him. How I’ll obey his every word. How I’ll be the perfect angel for him.

  I gasp softly as his strong hand cups my chin and lifts my lips to his as he bends forward. The warmth from being so close to him envelopes my body, causing my limbs to shiver, my blood heating and my heart beating rapidly. His tongue slips along the seam of my lips and I part them for him, opening my mouth for his kiss. Our tongues intertwine and he stea
ls my breath, devouring me with just a slight touch. So little, but so consuming. He breaks the kiss all too soon, leaving me to fall forward slightly, missing him already. But his hand stays on my chin, keeping my head tilted for him.

  I look up at him through my thick lashes with lust and obedience in equal parts. I can’t get over how handsome he is. His chiseled jawline is shaded by fresh stubble, his sexy as fuck features belonging in GQ Magazine. He crouches in front of me, his gorgeous eyes traveling along my body. I shiver beneath his intense gaze, feeling like my soul is bared to him and that he knows all my innermost, deepest and darkest secrets. The fact is, he does. But he still wants me.

  He claims me with his look alone. Mind, body, and soul, I’m totally his.

  His strong fingers trail the angel wings tattooed on my back, sending sparks of electricity shooting up through my skin and causing me to shiver. He gave me those wings. But I don’t know if I can live up to them. I’m not an angel. I’ll never be one, but he insists that I am. I’ll be his angel.

  He says his next words as he brings his lips to my neck, causing my body to erupt into flames and my heart to beat like a jackhammer.

  “The past is the past. You’re not that woman anymore. You’re my angel now.”

  Chapter 1

  Shawnie

  “So she really reached out and contacted you?” I ask, pleasantly surprised. I'd been hoping to hear this for a long time, but to actually have it happen touches the good places that are left in my heart. On my computer screen, Dane Bell grins, nodding his head. He's grown his hair out some more from the military cut he used to have. It's kinda cute to see the natural curl that it has.

  “Yep, sure did. Who'd have guessed? It only took nearly five and a half years, but yeah, I got a letter back,” he says, still sounding a little shocked about it. I guess I can understand. Wrongfully convicted of manslaughter, Dane spent four and a half years in military prison before he was set free. The whole time, he tried to write the family that disowned him every week. And every week, the letter was returned unopened until just now, it seems.

  “So, what did it say?” I ask, and Abby, my best friend and Dane's wife, speaks up when Dane’s getting so choked up he can't answer.

  “It wasn’t all good news,” Abby says, rubbing her husband’s shoulders. “Some of it was tough.”

  “What do you mean, some of it was tough?” I ask, watching as Abby grimaces and rubs her swelling stomach. She's six months pregnant, and every time I see her she's glowing more and more, while at the same time looking bigger. Never mind. There are more important things to worry about. “The baby kicking?”

  “A little,” Abby admits, smiling. “I'm looking forward to meeting her.”

  “Or him,” Dane objects, smiling. “By the way, we've settled on names.”

  “Oh?” I ask, intrigued. “What'd you pick out?”

  “If it's a girl, we're going to go Jennifer,” Abby says. “It was my grandmother's name, and Daddy would love it.”

  I'm slightly disappointed until Abby grins, reading my mind. “And if it's a boy . . . Shawn.”

  I blink, touched. I gawp for a few seconds like a hooked fish before I can figure out any words to say. “Abby, you don't have to do that.”

  “Sure I do,” Abby says, reaching out and putting two fingers on the screen. An ache runs through me. I miss my friend, and the past year has been the most difficult of my life. Having her so far away is even worse, but at least we've been able to get together from time to time. “Shawnie, you and I, there's always going to be a bond there. California ain't gonna break that for us.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her from the bottom of my heart. “Y'all mean everything to me.”

  “Knew you still had your Southern in you,” Abby jokes, breaking the heavy atmosphere. Neither of us do too well with overly heavy. Her smile fades, and she shifts back to what we were talking about before. “So anyway, Dane's sister, Denise, wrote that their father died last year, but that she wants to try and re-form some sort of family bond. There wasn't any mention about Dane's brother, but you know how we women are.”

  “Yeah, focused just on ourselves,” I joke back, trying to force a laugh but failing. Seeing their happiness, the demon inside me is scratching to get out, and it's been too long. I don't know if I can force him back down inside the cell that I've made inside my soul for him. Not tonight, at least.

  Abby notices my discomfort and whispers in Dane's ear, who nods and gets up. “Shawnie, I hate to be a bad friend, but I've got a paper due that's biting my butt. You two might be done with your Bachelor’s degrees, but I’ve still got catch-up to do with you two. So if you don't mind, I'm gonna go crack the books.”

  I nod and give him a wave. He’s a good man. I’m glad for Abby. “Take care, big man.”

  Dane disappears off my screen, leaving just Abby, who follows Dane with her eyes before looking back at me. “How's the counseling going, Shawnie?”

  I shrug, feeling bad that I'm about to blatantly lie to my best friend. But I can't really put how I am into words, and after the happiness of Dane's news, I can't tell her that everything is slowly going to hell inside me. “It's getting better. The nightmares have stopped at least, and I can actually look at myself in the mirror without being disgusted.”

  Abby nods, not pointing out the obvious fact that despite it being the middle of June, and I'm in California, I'm still wearing a long-sleeved shirt and knee-length shorts, hiding the scars that crisscross my arms and thighs from view. The reality is that things have never been worse for me, but I can’t tell her that. “And your studies?”

  “Good,” I tell her truthfully, glad to not have to lie about that. “One year down on my Master's, still carrying my perfect GPA. The work's harder than what I did at G-T, but I'm enjoying Stanford. Lots of geeks up here. You know, my type of people.”

  “And how many of them are Midland girls like you?” Abby asks playfully, letting what at least to me is an obvious lie go. “I mean seriously, can any of the people you've met even make a good bowl of grits?”

  “Hell, girl, these folks barely know what grits are.” I laugh back, the demon inside me scratching harder and harder. I'm trying to hide it, and if I can't, I at least disguise my screams and tears as laughter. Abby doesn't need to know about this. “On the other hand, I can get better Asian food around here than you'll ever get in Atlanta.”

  Abby chuckles, shrugging. “All right, I guess. But seriously, Shawnie, I know it's not always good for you. At least I've got Dane here, but I'll be honest. I still get bad dreams sometimes too. If you need someone to talk to, and I don't mean just the counselor, promise you'll holler at me?”

  “I will,” I say, trying to not let the pain of my lie out through my teeth. There’s no way I’ll ever subject Abby to a glimpse of this hell. “Thanks. Hey, tell Dane I'm happy for him. Really, I'm happy for you both. A year together, and six months married. Y'all got yourselves a good setup.”

  “We're making it,” Abby says, giving me a smile. “I'm still waiting to hear that you've come up with something that’ll make you a super-rich woman.”

  I shake my head, smirking. “Gimme time, Abs. But for now, I’ll let you get on with your evening. It's gotta be getting late for y'all, right?”

  “We're good, but yeah. Okay, Shawnie, you take care of yourself, okay?”

  I nod and blow her a kiss. “I'll give you a call next Friday night. How's that sound?”

  “Sounds great. Be good.”

  “I'm so bad I'm good,” I tease, causing Abby to laugh before she hangs up the Skype call. As soon as the screen goes blank, I lean back in my chair, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes, setting off fireworks in the blackness behind my eyelids, pain and light together. I can't help it. The restlessness is unstoppable, the need to purge myself too deep. I can try to fight it, but the longer I repress the demon, the harder and more brutally it punishes me. I know better by now—better to just give in and get it over with.
r />   Fuck it. I get out of my chair and go to my bedroom, peeling off my t-shirt and jeans and stripping off my polite, normal underwear, the stuff that I wear when I feel good about myself. Instead, I open the second drawer on my dresser, taking out what's inside, the leather and lace bra with matching crotchless panties, the stuff that feeds the demon inside me. In my closet, I find my bustier top and miniskirt that tell the whole world what I really am, that the scars on my arms and legs tell the real truth. A girl who likes to be used and abused. Fuck me, use me, call me what I am inside . . . broken.

  I pull on my seven-inch platform stilettos and take a look at my mirror, disgusted but at the same time happy with what I see. My scars are narrow, and with the way my skin is colored, the pale lines are easy to see, an easy advertisement for what I've had done to me in the past. My shoulder doesn't show the pain inside, but that's okay. The rest of me does. My breasts are jammed together and pushed nearly to my collarbones by my bra and bustier, and my ass is bulging the fabric of my skirt, made even more cartoonish by my heels, which force me to walk in tiny, mincing steps.

  I do my makeup, heavy on the eyes to make them seem even larger than they are. I know that the people I fuck love to look into them. I've heard them described as tan, as golden brown. One nice guy I knew before I was broken called them the color of Kentucky Fried Chicken, which at the time made me laugh. He was a nice guy, probably a man who met a woman who'd appreciate him for who he is and is now married and living happily. I think of my eyes as quicksand, personally. Dirty, mysterious, and who the fuck knows what lies beneath except dead things.

  I don't need to do a lot for my lips. They're already naturally plump and I can't do too much without throwing off the proportions of my face. A little blush on my cheekbones gives me the naughty innocent look that I know my partners like, whoever it happens to be tonight.