Pleasured by sin the sum.., p.1
Pleasured by Sin: The Summer of Sin Series, page 1
Pleasured by Sin
SUMMER OF SIN
CLUB DESIRE
J. NELL
Pleasured by Sin
Summer of Sin
Club Desire Series
J. Nell
Published by SalteWorksWrites
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2023
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without the expressed permission of the author or publisher.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE:
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, and by extension all other territories. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork is prohibited without the expressed written consent of the author. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This story is a work of Fiction. Names, characters, places, events are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design: Rehman X
Interior Design: SalteWorksWrites
Editor: All That & Moore Editing and Promoting Services
Pleasured by Sin Copyright ©2023 by J.Nell
All rights reserved The characters and events portrayed in this book are Fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
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Disclaimer
This book contains material that is only suitable for mature audiences over the age of 18 years old. Strong language, violence, and explicit sexual content included. Please read the trigger warning before proceeding! Proceed at your own discretion.
Trigger Warning
Explicit sex scenes, explicit language, BDSM content, consensual bondage, public sex.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by J. Nell
One
Kruze
I hate moving, and what I hate worse is moving back to my hometown, but when I got the call that my dad had had a stroke, and my mom needed help caring for him, it was a no-brainer. Luckily for me, my job has a branch here, and I was able to come here and take over the COO position. I don’t need to work if I don’t want to. The investments I participated in paid off a thousandfold, but I like working and keeping busy. The movers unpack the last box and leave as quickly as they came; they worked quickly and efficiently to get me moved in and set up in just a few hours. I have a lot to purchase since I left quite a few things behind, but still, they were worth every penny. I have an interior designer coming to decorate this house, and the penthouse I bought in downtown Chicago. That set me back a pretty penny, but so did this house on The Gold Coast, but if I have to be back here, I am going to be comfortable.
My parents will be moving in here with me until their house can be upgraded with the modifications my dad needs. This is why I need the other house. I can’t bring dates back here with my parents under my roof, and I know there will be times when I need to get away. I have lived on my own since I went to college. I was so adamant about it that I worked two full-time jobs so that I wouldn’t need a roommate. So having this place as my only home and having my parents here is unacceptable. Personally, I don’t see why my brother couldn’t help out, but his ass is a spoiled brat, so I guess I am not surprised.
I take a look around the more than twelve thousand square foot home, some of the décor is dated but the potential to be amazing is there and I hope the interior designer can bring my vision to life. I head to the primary suite to shower and change clothes before dinner is delivered, but my phone ringing interrupts me heading into the shower.
“Are you here yet?” the voice on the other end of the phone asks.
“When have I ever been late?” I retort.
“Ugh, you are such an oldest sibling. It’s disgusting.”
“What do you want, Legend?”
“I can’t call my big brother to see how he is doing?” he asks, and I stay silent, waiting for the real reason for his call.
“Uh, well, here’s the thing, I lost my house.”
“Excuse me?”
“I lost the house, so I have been staying with Mom and Dad. Once they move into your home, I will be too.”
“The fuck you will!”
“Kruze, I have no place to go.”
“I am not in the habit of supporting grown-ass men. Figure it the fuck out.”
“I didn’t ask you to support me. I just asked for a little help.”
“Help like the job I got you, the house I bought for you, or the car I paid for?”
“That was years ago. I haven’t needed your help in years, and besides, who do you think has been helping Mom with Dad? She can’t lift him and all of his equipment. I have been that’s who. I lost my house because I was paying for all the extra medical debt our parents incurred. In the end, it was selling my house, so our parents didn’t drown in debt and live with them or turn my back on them.”
“I have more than enough money to have paid for Dad’s medical bills. How come no one asked me?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“Mom didn’t want to burden you any more than they already had asking you to move from Washington DC back to Chicago to take care of Dad, sell your house, leave your job, and pay for their house to be remodeled. She felt like they already asked for too much.”
“Then it doesn’t look like I have that much of a choice, does it.”
“You don’t have to sound so happy. Don’t worry, I won’t be at your house for long. I have a few things in the works, and if they pan out like I think they will, I’ll be out of your hair in a matter of months.”
“Another get-rich-quick scheme?”
“I am not looking for your advice or approval, brother. I just wanted to give you a heads-up that I would be coming with our parents. I’ll see you next week,” he says before promptly hanging up the phone.
Growing up, I busted my ass for every inch, and my parents gave Legend any and everything. On top of that, our six-year age difference, contributed to us not being very close, but perhaps it’s time to change that. I mentally note adding more food to the grocery list before finally step inside the shower.
Trinitee
This is one of the biggest projects I have ever taken on. Usually, it’s a family home or a townhome. Granted, they are usually well-off customers, but to have a home in the Gold Coast, an apartment in the Downtown Loop, and another in Lincoln Park! It will be enough for me not to have to take another job for a few months, plus it will really put me on the map.
I gather my electronic tablet and the pen, making sure both are charged up and drop them in my bag. I double-check my appearance in the mirror, making sure not a single strand of hair is out of place, my make-up is flawless, and my professional outfit. I jump in my car and head to my appointment at Mr. Morehouse’s home.
Pulling up, I have to take a breath to steady myself, the outside of the home is stunning, and I am dying to see what the inside looks like. I take one final look in the mirror before grabbing my bag, heading to the door, pushing the doorbell, and waiting. When the door opens, my breath literally gets caught in my throat, looking at the specimen standing before me. Get it together, please, Trin.
“Mr. Morehouse?”
“Trinitee?”
“Yes.”
“Please come in.”
I take a quick look from his obviously pedicured feet to his dress pants and polo shirt, all black, as I step inside his home.
“This is stunning,” I say, already formulating plans in my head.
“Thank you, and I agree. However, it is not quite my style. Also, there are some modifications that needs to be made for my father while he is living here.”
“Is it okay to place my bag here?” I ask, referring to the long entry table.
“Of course. Let me take you on the tour, and then you can feel free to explore, take your measurements and brainstorm on your own while I get lunch set up for us,” he says as he takes my elbow in his hand and gently begins steering me through the house. At the end of the tour, I feel like I have been walking for hours, the house is more than twelve thousand square feet, and I felt every inch of it. With four living rooms, two kitchens, five bathrooms, three eating areas, a movie room, a game room, an exercise room, two offices, and a partridge in a pear tree.
“Well, we are back to where we started,” he pauses, looking down at my high heels with a frown. “I have guest slippers if you would like to change out of your shoes,” he offers. My pinky toe throbs as if answering his question for me, so I throw pride out of the window.
“I would love to,” an
“How does that feel? Better?” he asks, and I swear his voice must have deepened several octaves.
Hell no! I mean, my feet feel better but fuck my feet! I think to myself, but what good is that if the throbbing moved from my pinky toe to between my legs?
“Much,” I say in a voice much steadier than I actually feel.
“Wonderful,” he says and smiles, and I lose the battle. He can get it anywhere at this point, I am ready to bust it open right here in this foyer, but I pull myself together and refrain from acting on this desire rising inside me. “ Feel free to meet me when you are done exploring. I will be in the main kitchen, fixing lunch.”
“Okay,” I reply and walk off to explore, make notes, and get some measurements. I am so engrossed with what I am doing that I have lost track of time. I have come out of the slippers since I was standing on the beds and other furniture. It’s just my luck, that I hear his voice from the doorway when I am face down and ass up on all fours taking measurements of the beds’ platform. “You have been at it for hours. Come eat.”
“Um, yeah, sure, as soon as I finish grabbing this last measurement,” I say, the embarrassment already pushed aside in favor of doing my job. And the next thing I know, he is on the floor next to me, grabbing the end of my tape measure and holding it in place so I can get the last numbers I need for the room. What is up with this man?
“Did you get everything you need in here?”
“Yes,” I say, busy tapping on my screen with the pen, already tuning him out, that is, until the pen is unceremoniously plucked out of my hand.
“Excuse you, why would you do that?” I say before I can think better of it.
“Because you need to take a break and eat. You have been here since this morning.”
I look at my smart watch only to realize he is right. It has been several hours since I first got here. As soon as my brain realizes this, my stomach wakes up with a huge growl that fills the space between my client and me. Traitor. I think as he chuckles, setting my teeth on edge.
“I think your stomach likes the idea of getting something to eat, and then we can talk about what you’ve come up with, and you can ask me anything you need.”
“I guess between you and my stomach, I don’t have much of a choice,” I concede, taking his hand as he helps me off the floor.
“Good,” he says as he guides me out of the room and into the kitchen, where a veritable spread is laid out on the kitchen island. He pulls out a chair for me, “Would like water, lemonade, sweet tea, or perhaps a glass of wine?”
“I don’t drink while I am working; water will be fine. Thank you. Also, I need to go wash my hands before I sit down,” I say to him before I take the seat proffered to me.
“Of course, me too. There is a powder room right around the corner,” he says as he goes over to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. I make my way to the powder room grateful to hide for a few seconds so I can get my bearings. This man throws me off my balance. My desire and work ethic are battling for dominance, and I am in the middle of getting beat up.
Two
Kruze
She is magnificent. From the moment I opened the door to see her standing there, I have barely taken my eyes off her. My palms were itching to touch her in some fashion but taking her by the elbow wasn’t enough, so imagine how happy I was when she stated she’d like to wear the slippers I had on hand. Her calves were all I touched, and I was so hard it hurt, but that wasn’t all. It was how she kept her eyes on me, never looking anywhere else until I gave her silent permission to.
Now to be fair, I have never discriminated against the race of women I would date or fuck, but what is different about her is that she is voluptuous. I have a type you see, and that type could easily walk the runway, but I always felt something was missing. Could it have been this? I mean, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting a different result. I stand there washing my hands and flipping through my mental Rolodex, trying to remember if I ever showed any type of attraction to anything other than damn near rail-thin women, and yes, yes, I have.
I can recall feeling drawn to women with a little more meat on their bones all through my life, so why didn’t I act on it? Am I a coward? Did I conform to the women I was expected to be with instead of who I was truly attracted to? I do not like the answer in my head right now. I have always taken control of my life, walked to the beat of my own drum, and all this time, I have been a fucking coward.
“If you don’t stop, you’re going to wash the skin off of your hands,” she says, padding back into the kitchen. I look down and notice I have scrubbed my hands to the point that they are red.
“I guess I got lost in my thoughts,” I turn the water off, dry my hands and go to pull her chair out.
“I completely understand.”
“Yes, I guess you do. I had to hunt you down and force you to come eat something.”
“Guilty.”
“Well, let’s eat, and then we can talk,” I tell her, passing her a plate as I take one myself, and we dig in. I had sandwiches, fruit salad, and soup delivered for us from a local restaurant. I grab the remote to put on some music, just loud enough to cut through the quiet, fix my plate, and eat.
We eat in companionable silence, sampling a bit of everything until we are both full. “Okay, now that we’ve satisfied our hunger, let’s get started.”
“All right,” she says as I get up to pack up the remaining food.
“No, you sit there. I will clean up,” I tell her when she tries to help.
“Go ahead and ask me what you need to, I’m great at multitasking. Oh, and here,” I say, handing her back her stylus.
She begins tapping on the tablet as she starts rattling off questions to me telling me, “Just spit out the first thing that comes to mind, don’t overthink it.” And so I do. Then after her game of twenty-one questions, she says, “Okay, I need you to take this quiz.” Dutifully I have a seat, grab the tablet and start on question one.
“This is insane. How many questions are there to this quiz?”
“Enough,” she responds vaguely.
“That many, huh.”
“It is another way to get to know you, your style, and what you want. After all, I am designing three houses for you. I want you to be happy and comfortable, so please, humor me.”
“Alright, Trinitee, I’ll do my best and stop complaining.”
“While you are doing that, I want to take one final look; you should be done by the time I return,” she says, walking out of the kitchen. I focus back on this convoluted quiz so I can be done by the time she comes back.
How do you want your home to feel?
Describe your personal style…
What would you put on your dining room table?
Your friends would describe you as?
If you were a cocktail, you’d be?
