Private Desires

By Piper Denna

She arranges fantasy fulfillment for a living. Now it’s her turn.

Victoria has built a world-renowned business at Fantasy Mountain, the resort where no want is too wacky, no urge too unusual, no passion too peculiar. Her ability to create any sexual scenario has granted her everything she could want: power, money, independence. The one thing that remains out of her reach is the man she knows she’ll never have...and he happens to work just down the hall from her.

Brett has all but given up hope of breaching the wall around Victoria’s heart. In fact, he’s engaged to be married back in London in only two months. But he knows Victoria has desires; he’s seen them firsthand.

When a night of passion rekindles old feelings, can he finally fulfill the ultimate fantasy of the woman who’s made it her mission to satisfy everyone’s desires but her own? After all, whatever the erotic dream, it can come true at Fantasy Mountain.

Content Warning: Wild romps, no-holds-barred lust, and deep, meaningful lovemaking. A love story first, sparing no steamy details. Contains glimpses into very kinky fantasies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Piper Denna
• Release date: Apr 8, 2014

Piper Denna

Romance is sexy. And often funny, and sometimes tangled up with suspense. Let’s face it: all sorts of things get mixed up with romance in real life. Piper Denna’s stories are not cut-and-dried romance. Her characters deal with issues female readers can relate to: independence and trust, empowerment, inhibition, an unfaithful partner, motherhood. Sometimes her characters make mistakes, and often her “bad guys” are not 100% bad. She hopes to take the reader on an emotional journey to a happy ending...with enviable sexual encounters along the way. When she’s not writing, she edits, raises two teens along with her husband, and collects scrapbooking material. She enjoys books—or movies—with a comedic twist and hopefully a love story with lots of tension, too. Sexiest parts of a man in Piper’s opinion? The hands and eyes. Shoulders are nice too, and of course, great pecs are never amiss...

Book preview

Private Desires

By Piper Denna

Fantasies, Inc. Series, Book 1

She arranges fantasy fulfillment for a living. Now it’s her turn.

Victoria has built a world-renowned business at Fantasy Mountain, the resort where no want is too wacky, no urge too unusual, no passion too peculiar. Her ability to create any sexual scenario has granted her everything she could want: power, money, independence. The one thing that remains out of her reach is the man she knows she’ll never have...and he happens to work just down the hall from her.

Brett has all but given up hope of breaching the wall around Victoria’s heart. In fact, he’s engaged to be married back in London in only two months. But he knows Victoria has desires; he’s seen them firsthand.

When a night of passion rekindles old feelings, can he finally fulfill the ultimate fantasy of the woman who’s made it her mission to satisfy everyone’s desires but her own? After all, whatever the erotic dream, it can come true at Fantasy Mountain.

Content Warning: Wild romps, no-holds-barred lust, and deep, meaningful lovemaking. A love story first, sparing no steamy details. Contains glimpses into very kinky fantasies.

Private Desires

Copyright 2014 by Piper Denna

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

Cover Art provided by Kim Killion, The Killion Group, Inc.

Edited by Mary Murray.

License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

Dedication

For everyone who has dared to dream...

Acknowledgements

Thanks—again—to all the lovely critique partners who helped polish this way back in the day. Special thanks to Kate, my best beta reader ever. And Mary, thanks for being such an excellent editor…but more importantly, a longhaul pal.

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

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

Sneak Peek at Victoria’s Secret Wish

About Piper Denna

Chapter 1

Welcome.

You’re just a mouse-click away from our home page, the portal to pleasure. Please enter our site only if you are age 18 or older. Be advised that, while tastefully presented, adult images and content grace the pages of our website. Fantasy Mountain is a place where private desires—sexual desires—meet reality. Anything can happen here. So, please, enter our site and prepare to have your wildest expectations met.

Click to ENTER only if you are over 18.

Fantasy Mountain. Where fantasies roam wild.

Fantasies, Inc.

Victoria West clicked the ENTER button. The home page appeared, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Her web site was operational once again. The tech guys must have been up all night to make sure it happened. Thank God, because today, of all days, a working website was imperative. Today she’d be a participant in a round table discussion on TV’s most talked about talk show. Right in the middle of the public eye. Not something she relished, but a necessary evil. Fantasy Mountain’s notoriety had been increasing exponentially with the satisfaction of its clientele.

Closing her eyes against the California sun beaming through her First Class window, she tried to calm her nerves, rehearsing what she’d say when asked about her business. The sales pitch her publicity team had foisted on her seemed boring now. What could she say about Fantasy Mountain that most of the free world didn’t already know? Luxurious and in an unlikely locale—a ten thousand acre ranch in southwest Wyoming where guests were flown in by helicopter—it left many feeling as if they’d been transported to another world. Or, as she’d hoped, that their imagination had become reality. Entrepreneurs mingled with starlets, athletes cavorted with pop stars, royalty bonded with everyday people. The common denominator? All were willing to shell out big bucks to experience their sexual fantasies.

Well, that last bit about the big bucks probably wouldn’t be great in a national TV sales plug, and she sure wasn’t going to advertise her location. Damn, but her nerves were getting to her! This would be her last public appearance, she decided. She could afford a spokesperson, someone else to do this from now on.

She’d never wanted to be famous, just good at her job and respected for it.

Before the plane started its descent, she checked her email. Seven messages from different departments, all needing her approval or consent on minor details or subtle changes. The last was from her right-hand man, Brett. Or, as she called him, Britt.

Vic,

Never mind those mindless buggers. I’ve got a handle on them all. I know you’ll knock ’em dead on the forum.

Brett

P.S. Don’t forget your panties, in case they ask to see them.

She couldn’t help smiling. Good ole Britt. Of course he’d know just the thing to say. Losing her temper during her last interview and telling that snoopy journalist she didn’t wear panties hadn’t been her wisest PR move. But the guy had been absolutely bent on finding out what type of underwear she wore, dogging her. He’d jumped on her smartass reply, and her reputation grew.

Everyone assumed she led the life of a female Hugh Hefner, had as much sex as a porn star, and therefore must be an expert on all things sexual. A caricature of her in one skin rag had her seated in an executive chair with phone to ear, feet on desk, legs spread, diddling herself with long red nails while dictating notes to a shirtless male secretary with ripped abs.

Victoria West had become an icon of female success, considered by many to be legendary in her ability to remain feminine while commanding a huge and immensely profitable business.

As instructed by an intercom message from the flight attendant, she closed her laptop and put it away in preparation for landing.

Los Angeles, her least favorite city, loomed out her window.

Traffic, smog, and rampant plastic surgery had nothing to do with her hate for the city, hometown to so many of her clients. She kept her reasons buried deep—all the easier to forget, that way. This strategy worked famously except on days like today, when business forced her to return here.

Once outside the terminal at LAX, she breathed a toxic mixture of designer perfume, ocean humidity, and vehicle exhaust while looking for her ride.

A high-pitched squeal of Tori! shot out of a waiting limo and a busty blond bombshell thrust herself past the driver before he’d fully opened the door. She ran, exuberant and unconcerned by the many eyes following her, slamming into a full-force hug with Victoria.

Carmyn, Jesus! She laughed. You’ll have the tabloids saying we’re lovers.

From what I read, I’d have to stand in line behind most of the free world and maybe some slaves you’ve taken, too. Carmyn sported her best mock pout, while her driver saw to the luggage and helped them into the limo.

Yeah, whatever, Victoria scoffed. You didn’t have to meet me, you know. I could’ve taken a cab like any normal person would. But thanks.

Carmyn squeezed her hand. You know I’d never make my best friend arrange her own ride. Besides, it’ll boost my talkability factor, being seen with you.

One of the most sought-after actresses in Hollywood, Carmyn led an alarmingly boring life, by the standards of her peers. She’d been married to the same guy, a lawyer who worked normal cases and not sensational ones, for twelve years. They had three kids together, all conceived naturally and not imported from overseas. Neither Carmyn nor her husband hit nightclubs or got arrested for drunk driving. Her publicist hated it. He wanted her headlining the tabloid news shows, carousing big parties, giving Hollywood and the rest of the world reason to include her in their daily gossip.

After today, it might be bad publicity for you to be seen with me, hon. Victoria suppressed a nervous shiver. A psychologist, a sex therapist, a Bible thumper, Babs Sheridan and me, all at a table together? God help me for agreeing to it. God help her for not memorizing the lines her publicity team had prepared.

Oh, admit it—the only one you’re afraid of is old BadHairAgain. What if she has things growing in her bouffant? I’d be scared, too. Carmyn giggled. Here, have some champagne.

No way, it’s the middle of the day. You know what happens when I drink.

Yeah, you get all mouthy. Maybe you’ll spout off something dirty, and give America something to talk about! Ignoring her protests, Carmyn handed her a glass. Come on, what good does it do me to have this damn car with chilled champagne if I don’t have anybody to drink it with? Like I’m gonna be sucking down the bubbly on the way to Robbie’s soccer game. My life is so blasé. Humor me.

Victoria caved and sipped the champagne, mumbling, Diva.

Carmyn’s eyes lit while she sipped from her own flute. I have a surprise for you. A D-A-T-E for tonight.

Groan. "Carmyn, no way. You guilt-tripped me into staying at your house overnight and peer-pressured me into drinking in the middle of the morning, but you are not going to trick me into dating a lonely litigator friend of Mark’s or some Hollywood lothario friend of yours."

Please? Carmen pleaded in her best, most desperate way. Remember what a good job I did setting you up with Brett?

He was a business referral, when I needed a lawyer. Not a date.

"Yeah, we both know what you two ended up doing when he got done checking out your documents, don’t we?" Carmyn giggled into her champagne.

Victoria drained her flute and refilled it. How many times had she tried to forget that night with Britt? Well, he’s engaged now, to somebody else, so don’t get too generous with the self-congratulations.

He’d be with you in a second if you dropped the Cool Boss Act.

Carmyn knew damn well her reasons for avoiding a broken heart, but still thought she needed to set her up in a lasting relationship, to save her from herself. Come on, Tori.

"I’m Victoria, now." Tori had been a bubbly, busty, happy strawberry blonde. She’d died along with most of her heart four years before. The rest of her heart had gone days later, when she lost her only other reason to keep going.

Victoria was a cool businesswoman with auburn hair and a hollow heart. The weight she’d lost while she’d willed herself not to feel, not to keep living, had never returned. Gone were the fun curves Luke had enjoyed. The enviable breasts other women had frequently suggested were implants had shrunk to what she laughingly called military issue—small and firm female pecs. She felt like a soldier in her tight, utilitarian body, on a mission to keep it hard. Curvy hips and soft, rounded breasts were for mothers and wives. Not her.

When physical demands overcame her, she let go and gave her body pleasure. She had no problem with the occasional fling. But Victoria didn’t need dates, and she’d never have a use for love again. In fact, though she was only turning thirty next month, she was considering tubal ligation to make sure she’d never have to worry about an accidental pregnancy. Judging by the genuine pout on Carmyn’s face, now was a bad time to mention it to her.

Oh, I got it all set up and now what am I gonna tell him? He’ll be crushed, Carmyn whined. And after that nasty divorce he’s in the middle of…

Knowing Carmyn, she wouldn’t stop whining and heckling until she got her way. Okay. I give in. Who? Who’d you set me up with?

Well. There was that red-carpet smile. I know how you went for the accent thing with Brett, so… Ever the drama queen, she just had to draw things out. Rafe Wyndham. Carmyn clapped her hands with delight.

Rafe? I can’t possibly date some guy whose name is really ‘Ralph’, but pronounces it ‘Rafe’. That’s just ridiculous. Ridiculous, but tempting. The guy was hot, all bronzed pecs and blond hair in the movies where he always managed to play an English surfer-dude or rugby player. And the accent. Jesus, Carmyn was hitting below the belt.

The champagne had her feeling lightheaded. The accent. Maybe she was willing to spend an evening swinging from the chandeliers at Carmyn’s with Rafe.

The limo glided to a stop at the studio door. Saved by the Bentley. She could wait until later to give Carmyn an answer.

I’ll send the car back to pick you up when you’re done here, Carmyn called after her at the studio door. Have fun!

* * * *

Some friend you are! Victoria yelled across Carmyn’s massive great room hours later. Get me tipsy and shove me out of the car for my national TV debut!

Carmyn grinned from the landing at the top of the stairs, then rushed down toward her. Oh, honey, you did great!

Great? I couldn’t even think straight!

I saw you giving your business card to the sex therapist. She licked her lips and sighed. I bet a sex therapist would be incredible in bed. Whaddaya think? Should I set up a weekend for it?

Though it wasn’t public knowledge, Mark and Carmyn had already visited Fantasy Mountain several times and Carmyn had been instrumental in recruiting the initial celebrity A-list clients. Word of mouth had spread quickly afterward, which had been invaluable. She owed Carmyn, big time.

Carmyn planted a juicy, wine-smelling kiss on her cheek.

God, Car, have you been drinking all afternoon?

Mmm. She nodded. Mark took the afternoon off. He and Rafe are in the rec room playing pool. Ready to go meet him?

Let me change first. Out of the public eye, she could lose the microsuede bootcut pantsuit her image team insisted on. A nap would have been fabulous, but one of Hollywood’s golden boys awaited.

Thank God. I thought you’d never take off your Prime Minister clothes. Carmyn’s laugh was punctuated by a healthy smack on her butt to start her up the stairs. So, did you get a chance after the show to ask the therapist what was with that guy who liked arranging flowers inside women?

Vagina-Vase guy? No. He’s just garden-variety weird, I think. She pulled cargo shorts and a t-shirt from her suitcase. You know, he never even had sex with those chicks. Just put ’em all in a row, bottoms up, and had us snap a picture with all their hoo-hahs stuffed full of flower stems.

Very sexy outfit, Tori. Carmyn gave an exaggerated shudder at the slouchy clothes she’d chosen. "And hoo-hahs? Hello? Shouldn’t you use words like pussy and twat?"

Not, she said, slipping into flat leather athletic sandals, "when said body part is filled with pansies and gladiolus. Besides, ‘hoo-hah’ is what his wallet said when he shelled out twenty grand for that experience!"

She’d laughed all the way to the bank.

Carmyn watched as she slicked on lip gloss. So, were the women paying customers, or employees?

She laughed. They were there for All-Girl First-Fist Weekend in the Brothel Building. We made it over to resemble a sorority house. Boy, could those girls party! I got ten of them to do the flower thing for free on Friday afternoon. Of course, some of them got excited and started their lesbian gig early. Another successful weekend.

Now, what could she do with a bronzed English surfer?

Chapter 2

Victoria clung to the passenger side door of Rafe Wyndham’s little red convertible Jag and tried to convince herself she didn’t fear death. Despite being stone cold sober, he drove like a maniac hounded by the demons of his former addictions. How had she gotten herself into such a perilous spot anyway?

As she looked down the steep Malibu hillside crisscrossed with the winding road behind them, she remembered.

With her head spinning from yet more champagne after her dinner with Carmyn, Mark and Rafe, she’d snuck outside to the patio to take a call from Britt.

Hey, she’d sighed to him.

Er. Vic? You alright?

Her heart had lurched a little at the sound of his voice, but she’d smiled at his concern. Yeah. As usual, Carmyn’s trying to get me drunk. How’s the pirate ship coming?

One huge building on Fantasy Mountain housed a permanent island beach, complete with surrounding salt-water ocean and waves. Inside it, she’d had a ship constructed for the long list of clients with pirate fantasies.

Sails came by post to the office in Rawlings. Gilbert picked them up but they were wrong.

Shit. They don’t fit? We can’t have a ship without sails.

Calm down, love. Two of the wardrobe girls are making alterations and they’ll do just fine. Breathe. Stay calm. Vic, you were marvelous today on TV. The therapist called and wants a consult with you.

From the corner of her eye, she’d seen Rafe had followed her out to the patio. As he neared, her pulse sped.

I forgot everything I planned to say, she complained. I had champagne— Rafe nibbled her earlobe. And, oh! Um. Well, it wasn’t like I planned. In the struggle to keep her thoughts on track, her voice faded to a whisper. Thanks to Carmyn.

Vic? What’s playing?

Nothing. I’m just… She giggled as Rafe moved lower, snuffling and kissing around her collarbone. Um. I’ll be back, like, tomorrow. Early. She’d snapped the phone shut and pushed the image of Britt from her mind as Rafe found her mouth. His lips were hot and hard; he was sure of what they wanted. When he probed her mouth with his tongue, she tasted the Coke he’d been drinking. He slid his hands down to her butt and lifted her up against him.

Take me somewhere, she’d sighed.

Like a club?

She nibbled his neck. Somewhere private. Mmm, salty. You know, alone? The last word she’d breathed into his ear, then shimmied against his hard, suntanned chest, already imagining him without clothes.

They’d left minutes later.

How’s this for a view? Rafe parked his car and yanked up the emergency brake.

Houses nestled below among the mountains in the twilight. And the ocean, far away. Too far to hear, but she could smell it. Yes, this spot would do for a bout of hot sex.

She leaned across the seat and kissed him, full and deep, sliding her hand inside his shirt to palm one of his significant pecs.

Er, Victoria. We should talk.

Her champagne buzz made her giggle. Whaddaya wanta know? My middle name or the name of my childhood pet?

No. I mean, I er, need your phone number.

Okay. If you say so. You gonna write it or program it in your phone? She waited impatiently, wanting him to hurry up so they could get on with the action.

What I mean is, I’d like to be a client of yours.

Oh. You mean at the Mountain? That’s fine. Call me and we’ll set up a consult.

He showed no sign of pulling out his phone. Rather, he squirmed and stared off toward the sea.

What did he want from her? Unless you wanta tell me right now what you’d like?

He pushed his seat back, pulled her onto his lap and kissed her again, sliding his hand inside her bra to caress and squeeze. Finally, he pinched a nipple between two fingers and the sweet pain collaborated with his hard warm tongue dancing with hers. Need jolted her system. The weather down in her panties had turned hot and humid. When he pulled her shirt over her head and mouthed the nipple, she arched back against the driver’s door.

Victoria.

She began unfastening her bra.

Please wait. Do you notice anything that you are and I’m not?

He stopped her hand on the bra clasp with his.

She giggled again. Um, a girl?

He closed his eyes and put her hand on his crotch.

Why hadn’t she noticed before? No boner. Oh. Sorry. You don’t like what I’m doing?

It’s not you. It’s…ever since Deidre left me, well, let’s just say it’s been all downhill.

Was he telling her he couldn’t?

Wow. You live in Hollywood and you haven’t slept with anybody since your wife?

Things weren’t working spectacularly down there before the divorce, and then Little Rafe started lying down on the job even for private shows, see?

Rafe, I’m sorry for your problem, but I’m not sure I can help you. Maybe you should see a doctor or something.

He looked away, clearly pained by the prospect. How awful for a male sex icon like him to have such a problem.

But what if she could help? "It’s, like, never hard? I mean, have you tried it out with other women at all?"

God, no! What if I couldn’t perform? I’d be damaged for life, and the news would spread around here faster than a California brushfire. He looked down at the part in question. "I mean, he cooperates for me alone now and again. I was just thinking maybe if we set