Roark's Leading Lady [Soldiers of Passion 2] (Siren Publishing Allure) Read online

  Soldiers of Passion 2

  Roark’s Leading Lady

  Roark Hurt will do anything to have Harley Tobor. That includes accepting her the way she is. Cyborg or not.

  Harley will fight Roark all the way. He is too young, one of her comrades, and it just wouldn’t work! She’s sure of it! That is until she realises she needs him.

  Half robot, half human. How could he possibly want her, let alone proclaim love for her?

  Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Science Fiction

  Length: 24,931 words

  ROARK’S LEADING LADY

  Soldiers of Passion 2

  Dace Everan

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  ROARK’S LEADING LADY

  Copyright © 2014 by Dace Everan

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62741-739-6

  First E-book Publication: May 2014

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Roark’s Leading Lady by Dace Everan from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Dace Everan’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Everan’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  A Big Thank You to my readers, friends, and family, that includes all you wonderful people at Siren! Thank you all for your support. A special shout-out to my Honey Bunchers! XOXO

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  About the Author

  ROARK’S LEADING LADY

  Soldiers of Passion 2

  DACE EVERAN

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  Harley stared out the window. The rain fell in torrents, and the silence in the small apartment was deafening. She looked at the blank canvas that took up the one wall above her decent-sized flat screen. Shit, she missed Layle. She glanced at the cordless phone that lay on the coffee table.

  Her brain whizzed with thoughts of how little she really knew about her best friend Layle. Shit, to have Layle strip down naked like nothing, then take commands to undress her had not only terrified her, but thrilled her. She wasn’t one to go get naked in front of strange men. Well, one strange man. Roark Hurt was in no way a stranger to her. He was one of her troops. She had spent the last five years with the man watching her back, whether she wanted him to or not. He had always been there.

  She grunted and glared at the phone. Should she call one of them? Layle would be busy with Laird. Roark…What the hell did she say to that one? He had said to call him when she was ready to talk and he would fill her in on any questions she had. What could she possibly ask him? Am I supposed to bow at your feet every time you are in my presence?

  Is that what she wanted?

  No! She couldn’t…have sex with the man.

  God knew she could do with a few rounds with the stud. But to bow and take his every command like she was some tart for his bidding?

  Screw him. He had another thing coming if he thought that was how things worked between couples! Whoa, no way was she thinking she was having a relationship with one of her comrades. That wasn’t even possible! They couldn’t have any sort of relationship besides the one that currently took up their time.

  She slumped. Piercing blue eyes and his neatly kept hair tormented her thoughts. Shit, she had run her hands over his head once, teasing him about a haircut after a month out in the jungle. Told him he was looking like a caveman. Had even gone and caressed his strong jaw, and his facial hair had tickled her palm in the most pleasurable way. His piercing blue eyes had taken stock of her and met her gaze just as strongly as hers had met his.

  She sighed and slumped more into the couch. She should just call him and get it over with! Tell him there was no way the two of them had anything to do with each other, other than work, and it had to stay that way!

  She nodded, grabbing the phone and dialing his number. That’s what she would tell him. She was the boss, after all, and he had to listen to her.

  Right…?

  * * * *

  Roark pulled his cell out of the bomber jacket that kept the cool draft off. He glanced across the deserted street at her apartment. One dim light lit the living room. He flipped open the phone. “Killer,” he greeted, smirking. She hated when he called her that.

  “Shithead,” she grumbled, releasing a deep breath.

  “Are you ready to talk?”

  “We have nothing to talk about. I’ll see you when we have our next orders.”

  Roark snorted. “No, not that simple, baby…” Shit, calling her baby made him hot. He inhaled a deep breath, glancing at her window. The rain had stopped, and it would be easy enough to climb the fire escape, break in, and just take her.

  He wondered if she would greet him how she would any
other intruder? He could use with a good scuffle, have her sweet curves hammering against him. “You are in dire need of a good spanking and then some,” he informed her.

  Harley snorted, her thighs clenched. How was it, those few threats turned her pussy to an overheated radiator? “If anyone is in need of a spanking it’s you, pup!” she uttered. See how he took that.

  Roark chuckled. “Baby, if that’s what you want I’ll let you try,” he offered. He’d bottomed before. He was fine with that. He looked longingly at the window. He wanted to command her, but he would hand the reins over if it was something she wanted to try.

  He had learned over his short years most women who thought they wanted that were turned off once they tried it. He shivered at the thought that maybe she would like it, and he would be put in a position that he may not like in the end.

  Harley stared at the blank canvas, her brain buzzing. Her throat constricted. He would let her spank him? “Are you yanking my chain, soldier?”

  Roark growled. “Not on a mission, killer, and don’t call me that out here,” he ordered, his voice cold and clipped. No way would he feel below her out here. They were equals, two completely normal civilians.

  Harley narrowed her eyes. “You would let me tie you up and hit you with a stick?” she uttered in disbelief, ignoring his order on calling him soldier. No matter what he said in regards to that he was always going to be her soldier, and a goddamn good one at that!

  Roark crossed the street. “Tie me up…yes. Beat me with a stick…” He swung open the door to her apartment, heading up the stairs. The first flight he took was done in a few meager leaps by his long, lean legs, the second level easy as pie. “I would prefer something a little more civilized.” He started up the third flight.

  “Civilized…! How the fuck do you consider what you do civilized?”

  Roark laughed, and it licked Harley in spots it had no right licking. She shivered, clenching her thighs. An unwanted desire rose in her, and her hand itched to reach down and rub the want away.

  “A lot more civilized compared to what others do,” he offered, stopping at her door. “Open your door, Harley, and let me in,” he ordered, closing his phone and ending the call with her.

  Harley’s heart pounded in her chest. Shit, he was actually here. She looked at her big, wooden door and bit her lower lip between her teeth. She should just leave him out there. She shouldn’t let him in. This could end badly.

  She took a step toward the door, shaking her head. No! She wouldn’t let him in. She wasn’t some desperate woman looking to get her kink on. She grunted and paced one hand on her hip, the other washing through her loose bangs as they settled over her eyes.

  Fuck, she needed to hit the salon. Eww, he wanted to get naked with her after months of being on tour and not having the proper facilities to take care of her damn self? Shit, her bush that she usually loved to have completely waxed was fully grown and peeking out of her panties in a wiry thatch that drove her insane, not to mention grossed her out. She had never liked that. She shuddered. And her legs! Oh God, the hair there was probably as long as his!

  She couldn’t do this. No way, no how, would she let him see her naked again. Not in this sad state of affairs. She looked at the rattle of the doorknob.

  “You can’t come in here!” she screeched, rushing the door. How stupid of her not to lock the fucking thing.

  Roark closed the door and put himself between Harley and it.

  She came to a skidding halt and near slammed into him. Her face was flushed, and the little cut-off T-shirt did very little to cover the under swell of her breasts. Her short shorts displayed her muscled thighs, and he fought not to haul her up and slam her against the wall in a deep kiss.

  “Get out!” she ordered, taking a step back.

  Roark grinned, locking the door and taking a step toward her.

  Harley crouched in a defensive position and readied herself for his upcoming assault.

  Roark slipped his coat from his broad shoulders and hung it on the freestanding hanger next to him. “Not leaving till you and I have a word, Harley,” he drawled, stalking her.

  Harley grunted, backing away from his towering form. Shit, he acted like he belonged in her home. “You brute, back the fuck off or I swear I’ll strike you down.”

  Roark stopped, looking her up and down. He assumed on her first swing that tiny shirt would rise and her tit would pop out. His lip curled in a roguish smile. He would take that. He took another step.

  Harley lashed out, only to have his hand catch her fist in a tight grip. He lifted her arm easily above her head, and she had to go on tiptoes so he wouldn’t pull her arm from her socket. His other hand reached out and cupped her breasts. Her knees buckled and he caught her in his arms, his mouth slamming to hers in a hungry kiss.

  A vase crashed on the floor as he shoved her on top of the island that took up a greater portion of the kitchen area. Her legs tightened around him, pulling him closer, pressing his hard cock against her pussy. Her tongue thrust against his hungrily, and her hands cupped the back of his head and held him in place.

  Roark ground his hips against hers and was rewarded with a hungry groan.

  Harley pulled her mouth away and nipped at his neck, her hands eagerly pulling at his shirt, pulling until she had it thrown across the room. Her hands started on his belt buckle.

  She paused and looked at the thick leather connected to that buckle. Her hands trembled. She looked him in the eyes and stopped. They shouldn’t do this. This was so wrong on so many levels.

  Roark shook his head. “Shut those thoughts out, baby,” he coaxed, his mouth nipping her. “We both want this and you know it,” he whispered, shoving his hand down her shorts crudely. His finger delved into her slick folds just to further prove his point.

  Harley groaned shaking her head. “Shouldn’t,” she mumbled, unbuckling his buckle.

  Roark nodded. “Yes we should,” he hummed, dipping his finger into her hot cunt. His eyes rolled, and a deep groan broke from him at the heat that surrounded his finger.

  Harley squeezed the walls of her cunt, gripping his finger. “Now, Roark,” she whimpered. Just a few more strokes and she would come, she was sure of it. It had been too long since she’d had a man. She panted against his neck as his finger fucked her, his thumb working her clit.

  She rocked her hips against his hand, grasping at his shoulders as she bucked, her legs tightened on his narrow hips. She could feel his wallet in his back pocket. Shit, he probably had condoms in there. She reached back and slipped it out, opening it.

  “Whatta ya doing?” he uttered, his mouth whispering along her neck.

  “Condom,” she mumbled, opening the folded leather.

  “Left side,” he mumbled, nibbling on her ear, a second finger joining the first.

  She shivered. “Oh fuck.”

  The wallet fell to the floor, and her body bowed as an orgasm struck her. A strangled cry ripped from her mouth, and Roark groaned as her cunt pulsed around his fingers.

  Chapter Two

  Harley fell back onto the softness of her bed. Her pussy tingled delightfully. She heard the thump of something heavy, heard the swish of clothing against flesh. She opened her eyes just as Roark knelt over her, his eyes on hers.

  His hands reached for her shorts.

  She propped herself up on her elbow. “This isn’t right, Roark,” she tried to argue as his hands pulled at the flimsy material of her shorts.

  “Yes it is,” he assured her. He had never been surer than anything in his whole life.

  Harley shook her head. “God, Roark, can’t you just give a girl a few days to, like, pretty herself up?” she grumbled, cheeks heating as he pulled her short shorts down.

  Roark furrowed his brow looking her over. “Pretty…very pretty.” he assured in an arrogant tone.

  Harley slumped back. “No,” she grunted, turning her head away.

  How the fuck could this man find anything pretty about her righ
t now? She had the world’s hairiest legs, her pussy hair was out of control, and ooh, was that his hand cupping her?

  She dared to look and watched as he parted the dark curls. She bit her lip and watched as he dipped and his pink tongue licked her.

  She shivered. “Brute,” she grumbled, spreading her legs further.

  Roark grinned, glancing up at her. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief. One of her tits hung out while the other was just barely covered by the flimsy top, her puckered nipple keeping the fabric in place. “Fucking sexy,” he groaned. He needed to taste, to feel. “Take the shirt off, Harley,” he ordered.

  Harley grimaced. She couldn’t believe she was being so weak and letting him come in her home and boss her around. She tossed the shirt over him, and it landed with his pile of clothes.

  Roark leaned back, his thumb swiping over her glistening pussy. He reached out and gave her tit a squeeze. The lust that shot through her eyes seared his soul. “I want you to look me in the eyes, Harley. I can’t read what you want if you don’t look at me…and we both know you’re too stubborn to say yay or nay.” He tossed the last comment at her.

  Harley grunted. “I know how to say yay or nay, you beast,” she grumbled.

  “Then tell me what you want,” he demanded.

  Harley clenched her teeth. “You to fuck me, idiot,” she grumbled.

  Roark chuckled. “Not going to get it that way, I can assure you that,” he purred in a deep voice, his thumb still circling her clit. She shifted her hips lower to get him to hit her clit. He only made wider circles.