The Experiment

By Vanessa Von Vine

A house wife leaves her husband at a bar only to find a smoldering alpha male at her doorstep when she gets home - a tall, wild and muscular, stranger with a dragon tattoo who has just thundered up her driveway at midnight on his wild motorcycle.  This ripped alpha male lives in the shadows in a world so dirty and dangerous she can taste and smell it on his ripped body. She knows, deep in her heart, that she cannot let this man in. But then again, this wild man is used to getting his way, he is a hunter - he sees what he wants, and he takes it . . . 

The alpha male/stranger claims to be from a research company. He will offer her large amounts of dirty cash to take place in a research experiment. All she has to do is rub a certain type of cream on a secret "sensitive" area of her body, at least to start with . . . she just has to make sure she does, just what is asked of her . . . 

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vanessa Von Vine
• Release date: Apr 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781507076941

Vanessa Von Vine

www.VonVine.comErotic Writer. Erotic Author. Erotic Lover. *Two new books each week and each month a new theme series*Get updates and a free book by subscribing to my mailing list: http://eepurl.com/9FYYL

Book preview

The Experiment

Vanessa Von Vine

Published by Vanessa Von Vine, 2015.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

THE EXPERIMENT

First edition. April 3, 2015.

Copyright © 2015 Vanessa Von Vine.

ISBN: 978-1507076941

Written by Vanessa Von Vine.

Also by Vanessa Von Vine

Succubus Incorporated

Mr. Morlock

Standalone

Step Mail (Bareback Step Taboo Encounter)

My Cuckold Husband

The Deal

The Experiment

The Tatooist

Werewolf Sex Park

Watch for more at Vanessa Von Vine’s site.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By Vanessa Von Vine

The Experiment

Further Reading: My Cuckold Husband

Also By Vanessa Von Vine

About the Author

About the Publisher

I had finished tending bar at the biker club where my husband, Ricky, was so drunk he could hardly stand. I told him I was going home. I was slightly upset with him when he just told me he would call a cab.

I will be home in an hour, he shouted through the bar noise, laughing. He had met a new friend, a muscular man in a leather jacket, with black hair and a dangerous way about him: someone from out of town who rode what I was told was a custom motorcycle with a string of red flames caressing a naked woman. The man had seemed to have been loaded, and I suspected he was high up in some gang, although he was not wearing a patch. He had given me a card, when he had came to the bar, which said he worked for a pharmaceutical company, and that they were on the lookout for people to test their line of products: all creams that were rubbed on the skin, aimed at males and females.

He said being a test subject, was worth a great deal of money. I was interested, and had exchanged my mailing address and details - he said he had already talked to Ricky, about it - but I was not so sure Ricky would even remember, so I went to write it down on a napkin, but he just held up a hand: just tell me, I'll remember, he said. And I did. The smell on him maybe, or something else, his touch, his strong hand, told me he was dangerous. He was not like the common biker, like Ricky, who rode only on weekends and worked a normal job; this man was likely a killer. A person that dressed like a biker to get into a biker bar. A person that was like a chameleon. A best in clothing. When he touched my hand for a moment, I could feel it on him and in his intense gaze that he looked at me with. He was also muscular, but in a thin wild way: the kind of body that was built not by being in the gym, but