Wrecked (The Blackened Window) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Epilogue

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  Wrecked

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-652-6

  ©Copyright Corrine A. Silver 2015

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright July 2015

  Edited by Jennifer Douglas

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Melting and a Sexometer of 3.

  The Blackened Window

  WRECKED

  Corrine A. Silver

  Book one in the Blackened Window series

  Her naiveté and his intensity fuse into a time bomb of sex and secrets. Can a young feminist and a Dominant with secrets make it work?

  “The first year is the most traumatic.” Leda’s medical school advisor’s words seemed like the words of a retiring blowhard, until she met Xander.

  What starts as a tutorial in anatomy quickly evolves into Xander’s desire to possess Leda. While she is drawn to him, wants to give in and experience sharp passion unlike any she has ever known, she has reservations. Can a feminist, a modern independent woman truly be a sexual submissive? Why is he holding back? What is the dark past that Xander is hiding from her? And ultimately, can she trust him—with her body and her heart?

  Xander wasn’t looking for a submissive, but his attraction to Leda is undeniable. He tries to follow caution, but ultimately he has to take her, subdue her, at her insistence. The more he opens himself up to her, though, the more his past comes back to haunt him, with nearly catastrophic events when his former lover shows up at their door on New Year’s Eve. How can he keep and protect Leda from all the risks of his kink, when he knows he is the biggest threat to her wellbeing?

  Dedication

  For David. For always.

  Acknowledgements

  I wrote this book without any real belief that it would reach anyone other than a few people close to me. I secretly hoped that it would, but knew enough about publishing to know that books don’t get published just because the author hopes for it. I wrote it because it made me happy to do it. I enjoyed writing something that explored sex, relationships, sexual politics, BDSM and feminism.

  I have to thank the people who have helped me. Very early in my writing I decided that I’d submit short stories because the worst that could happen is that someone would say “No.” I started with short story anthologies and I have to thank Rachel Kramer Bussel and Alison Tyler for being the first people to read and accept my work. When I learned about the BDSM Writer’s Con Book Contest, I had a similar approach. No one can say “Yes” if I never ask. So I submitted the first iteration of this book, and was selected as a finalist. Dr Charley Ferrer is the powerhouse behind the Con and my gratitude to her and the selection committee is immense. The Con was phenomenal and I got word that the contract with Totally Bound was finalized shortly after I got home.

  The people I have worked with at Totally Bound have been nearly supernaturally patient with someone who has never done this before, who didn’t know entirely how to use the software correctly at the beginning and certainly didn’t know the usual protocols for how to navigate the publication of a book. Thank you to my editor, liaison to publishing and all around possessor of saintly patience, Jenny Douglas. This is most assuredly a better book because of you.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Betty Boop: Fleischer Studios, Inc., Hearst Holdings, Inc.

  Jenna Jameson: Jenna IP Holding Company, LLC

  Converse: Converse, Inc.

  Denny’s: Denny’s Corporation

  Gatorade: Stokely-Van Camp, Inc.

  Ace Ventura: Pet Detective: Morgan Creek Productions, Inc.

  Facebook: Facebook, Inc.

  Twitter: Twitter, Inc.

  Google: Google Inc.

  Jetta: Volkswagen Aktiengesellschaft

  Lifetime: Lifetime Products, Inc.

  iPad: Apple, Inc.

  Firefly: Mutant Enemy Productions, 20th Century Fox Television

  Coke: Coca-Cola Company

  Xanax: Pharmacia & Upjohn Company

  Laphroaig: Beam Global UK Limited

  Lexus: Toyota Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha

  Trivial Pursuit: Hasbro, SA

  Pictionary: Pictionary Incorporated

  Botox: Allergan, Inc.

  Jack Daniels: Jack Daniel’s Properties, Inc.

  Barbie: Mattel, Inc.

  Superman: DC Comics

  Double Vision: 3OH!3

  Enjoy the Ride: Krewella

  Help, I’m Alive: Metric

  Ride: Lana Del Rey

  Nothing’s Impossible: Depeche Mode

  FutureSex/LoveSound: Justin Timberlake

  Girls on the Dancefloor: Far East Project—Featuring Stereotypes

  Tear You Apart: Sh
e Wants Revenge

  The Sound of Law: Daughn Gibson,

  Infinity: The XX

  Falling For You: Jem

  Trouble is a Friend: Lenka

  Destroy Everything You Touch: Ladytron

  Strict Machine: Goldfrapp

  Made to Love: John Legend

  Madness: Muse

  Lay Lady Lay: Minstry

  To Lose My Life: White Lies

  Cinnamon Girl: Type O Negative

  Cola: Lana Del Rey

  Love and Happiness: Al Green

  The Last High: The Dandy Worhols

  Memories: David Guetta featuring Kid Cudi

  Moonlight: The Piano Guys

  Animals: Maroon 5

  Making Me Nervous: Brad Sucks

  Ringfinger (Twisted Remix): Nine Inch Nails

  You Look So Fine: Garbage

  Paint It Black: The Rolling Stones

  Sexy Boy: Air

  Good Girls Go Bad: Cobra Starship

  Anti Gravity: Lindsey Stirling

  Sweet Disposition: Temper Trap

  Always In My Head: Coldplay

  Fade Into You: Mazzy Star

  Big Jet Plane: Angus and Julia Stone

  Animus Vox: The Glitch Mob

  Sister: She Wants Revenge

  Where I’m Going: Sir Sly

  Stripped: Rammstein

  Here and Now: Client

  Army of Me: Bjork

  Afraid: The Neighbourhood

  Love Me Again: John Newman

  Chapter One

  Xander

  3OH!3 Double Vision

  At the beginning of my second year of medical school, I was ambivalent, at best. Sometimes I felt right on the edge of something amazing, but mostly, it felt like waiting for the real thing to happen. It didn’t help that I wasn’t hooked in and invested the way most of the Ivy League overachievers were.

  My mentor had told me the first year was the most traumatic. He didn’t know shit. It was the second year that fucked my world up, and it wasn’t school. It wasn’t medicine. It was her. She nearly destroyed me.

  * * * *

  “Hey, Xander! Hold on a second.”

  I paused, turning to see Dr. Sanderson waving to flag me down before I left for the day. He taught Anatomy to the first years—cadavers, dissection, the whole bit.

  “Yeah? Hi, Dr. Sanderson.” I waited, noticing Stacy waiting down the hall, watching me. The world of history I shared with Stacy flashed through my head and came back to what it always did with her, the way we’d nearly destroyed each other.

  She doesn’t fucking get it.

  Dr. Sanderson shook my hand as he spoke, “Xander, would you be interested in tutoring anatomy? We’re short a tutor and you were top of your class. It would really help us and the first years, and we could pay you. I mean, it’s just something like nine or ten bucks an hour, but still… Students can usually use it, right?”

  I didn’t need the money and besides, I had a job at the Window anytime I wanted it. That paid better than ten bucks an hour, and you couldn’t beat the perks… Well, actually you could. Literally. But I was bored and needed something more to fill my time. Maybe I’d shake off some ennui if I got a little more involved, met more people. Something other than my simple routine.

  “Sure. I could do Tuesday nights.” I worked out a few times a week and needed to study some too, I guessed. Tuesdays seemed like as good a night as any.

  “Great! I’ll find you tomorrow with the paperwork. I usually let them get a little freaked out before having the tutors start. Usually the second week.”

  “Cool. Just at the library, though. I don’t really want to be in the cadaver lab if I don’t have to be. I’m still having flashbacks of the smell.” I cracked a smile at him. He smiled and slapped me on the back as he turned to his office. I stretched my neck as I turned, knowing Stacy would still be there. I could feel her dark little flame of emptiness trying to pull me into her.

  Deep breath.

  “Hi, Xander.” She said it slow and kind of soft. I don’t know if she was trying to be sexy or shy or sweet. But none of it looked right on her, not believable at all.

  “Stacy. How was your first day?” I was careful to keep my tone and facial expression neutral. The last thing I wanted or needed was Stacy at my door in the middle of the night. I couldn’t risk being even remotely unclear about how things were between us. There were no shades of gray with this girl.

  “It was good. Not as bad as I thought. Tough, but I’ve been through worse.” She twitched her lip in the little smirk she knew I hated. It just looked jaded and tainted on her face. She was gorgeous. Textbook pretty, empirically, traditionally, conventionally beautiful. Her hair was a chestnut brown and her eyes were the color of a latte. Tiny little body, made for tossing around and flipping over to fuck anyway you wanted. She had a tan, probably spent the summer somewhere tropical, drinking herself stupid.

  Cut that shit out, Stone. You know she’s bat-shit crazy. Don’t go there again.

  She claimed to want me, to love me—still, a decade after what we’d done to each other. She couldn’t love anything. At least not anything like me, and I didn’t like what I had been like with her.

  She stepped close to me, her hand on my chest, smiling up at my face. “Let’s get a drink tonight? I want to spend some time with you.”

  “Can’t. I gotta study. And really, so do you.”

  Her smile broadened as she rocked back on her heels. “There it is. I love that you think you can tell me what to do all the time.”

  She doesn’t get it at all. “I’m not telling you to do shit. Just telling you what I’m gonna do.” I sidestepped past her to the main doors out to the parking lot. The parking lot was hot as fuck. Texas could suck sometimes. Not the least of which was when I’d get into the C70―the black C70, with black leather interior. It was a sexy damn car, but I think I’d literally burned my ass a few times.

  Even though I didn’t want anyone now—and especially not Stacy—I couldn’t stop myself from noticing the women around me. Such a range. Black girls, white girls, Hispanic girls, some Native American girls too. Big and small. None of that was all that important to me though—I just really liked women. Their curvy bodies, their softness, their toughness hidden in pliability. Girls I had been with in the past blew my mind. The things I put them through and how they would bend themselves for me. The incredible strength and fearlessness it takes to let someone else play with them that hard. To willingly and repeatedly let themselves be opened up, penetrated, violated. For them to want it as much as I wanted to give it to them. Absolutely breathtaking.

  At the beginning of that semester, my mind would wander like that sometimes. Over that summer, I had been the regular Dungeon Master at the Window. It’s a kind of cheesy old-school BDSM name for the job of the guy in charge, making sure everyone followed the rules. And the only rules that really mattered to me were consent and relative safety. People call it by a few different names—Risk-Aware Kink, practicing Safe, Sane and Consensual kink—whatever. The key was consent. But all the facets of consent had to be there—the ability to consent, informed consent, as well as the actual consent, because consent from someone who was too incompetent or ignorant didn’t mean shit. Informed and enthusiastic consent, that was the key.

  Being the DM for the summer let me see everything—all kinds of insanity—but I didn’t have to actually take care of anyone. No aftercare, no worrying that I was fucking something up and harming someone rather than just hurting her the way we both wanted. Of course, I got propositioned all the time. But I hadn’t actually played at the Window in over a year.

  I didn’t have anyone I wanted to play with.

  * * * *

  The week passed in a blur of classes, labs, studying. Stacy kept trying to get me to do something with her. She flirted in that way she thought was sexy and I thought bordered on a caricature of sexiness, like Betty Boop mixed with Jenna Jameson. I blew her off.

  On Friday, I
saw her for the first time in the library, studying late. The girl that was gonna ruin me. I didn’t know it then. I just thought she had an ass I wanted to bite. That was the first thing I noticed about her. She had a jiggly ass, and her scrubs were thin enough that I could see how it moved when she walked through the library. Scrubs can be a little deceiving sometimes, but she had a snug T-shirt on and she had a smallish waist that flared out for her hips and a generous ass that I just wanted to put my hands on. She was short—a short, curvy girl was always fun.

  She walked across the library and stopped at the desk, turning as she spoke with the clerk. Her hair was twisted up off her neck and as she turned, her profile was visible—smooth skin, a full lower lip, small button nose. But her body looked like sound waves, like some crazy vertical graph from calculus. Her tits balanced out her plump ass and she had the tiniest little tummy her scrubs were hanging low on.

  She smiled at the clerk and that was it, I was fucked. Her smile was like getting kicked in the balls. She had that first-year look—vague panic hovering at the edges of all her gestures. But when she smiled, she was fully present in the moment and the panic, the nerves, melted away. Her whole face shifted in a pattern of amusement, and it looked comfortable on her—not contrived, just real. The clerk answered her question, pulling a clipboard over for her to sign. He didn’t have a pen and they both looked for one for a few seconds, before she giggled and waved him off as she pulled one from her hair.

  Her hair was dark gold with honey and sunlight highlights. I’m so fucked. She pulled the pen out and her hair fell down, to the little gap where her T-shirt had pulled up revealing the soft curve of her lower back. The waves of her hair looked a little bit like a shampoo commercial and I wanted to wrap it around my fist, bend her back until tears gathered in her eyes.

  Jesus, she’s just a girl. Settle down, Stone.