Satisfying the Curse

By Kelly Gendron

My Curse Wants Him!

Daddy Pritchard warned me that I'm cursed. Destined to be a whore like my mother. It's why he kept me in all-girls schools. Why he hid me from his elite society. Now that he's been arrested for murder, Daddy Pritchard wants me to come into the spotlight to portray the doting daughter. Fine. I'll agree to the interviews and talk shows. But before I go on a two-week tour of lies for my father, I'm going to take care of my curse!
And I found the perfect man to get the job done. Only to discover the MMA fighter I chose to fulfill my every fantasy is also the agent assigned to protect me for the next two weeks!

Agent T. Ryker
I pride myself on my discipline. Until my new assignment, Juliana Pratt, puts my renowned discipline to the ultimate test. When I find out about her crazy curse, I agree to help her satisfy it. But I have my own reasons for doing it. And it's not to give Juliana's body what it craves.
No. There's something else I want from Juliana Pratt...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kelly Gendron
• Release date: Feb 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005398927

Kelly Gendron

USA Today Bestselling Author, Kelly Gendron is best found tucked away in a quiet suburb in upstate NY writing her steamy, blush producing contemporary romances. But, when she’s not creating HEA stories, you might find her helping out her hubby in his workshop. He’s good with his hands and great with wood! If you Google Kelly, she’ll pop up there as well. And please google her. Kelly loves to hear from her readers and to meet new people!

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Satisfying the Curse

Published by Kelly Gendron

Copyright © 2021 Kelly Gendron

All rights reserved

Satisfying the Curse © 2012 by Kelly Gendron

First printing May 2012 (Red Sage Publishing)

Photog: Wander Aguiar

Model: Chris H.

Edited by: J. Sims – Editing4Indies

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews.

Chapter One

ANA

Ever since Josie introduced me to the unarmed combat of MMA, mixed martial arts, I’ve been addicted. Something about watching a male body move with such aggressive power has always been sexy.

I want him. I nudge.

Which one? Josie gazes down at the cage. The giant? No doubt indicating to the six-foot-six gangly beast in the ring below.

No. I glance over at her. She can’t think I’m attracted to him. Though some other females might find the disproportioned monster an attractive species, I do not.

Josie's nose scrunches. What, you want the little one?

I glance at the fighter's perfectly proportioned body covered only in a pair of loose black shorts. He moves with controlled grace in the cage below. My eyes lock onto The Kid. I’m not sure calling the fighter The Kid is appropriate.

By all means, he’s a man.

His dark blond hair splays across his face. His eyes look almost black from where I’m sitting in the arena. He’s an angel painted by the hand of the devil. Every contracted muscle is beautifully etched.

His opponent taunts him, shaking his fists and doing arm sweeps. Despite the brute’s attempts to show him up, The Kid stands with clenched fists, watching the ridiculous macho act with dauntless confidence. It’s far more intimidating than the hyper muscle show performed by his larger opponent.

Like the chill before a shiver, the ache before a fever, my curse stirs deep inside.

It wants out.

My father warned me this would happen. Daddy Pritchard repeatedly reminds me of what a whore my mother was and how sleeping around with other men was more important to her than taking care of me. More important than being a part of my life. She left when I was an infant to be with one of her many lovers.

Of course, despite his condemnation of my mother, Daddy Pritchard wasn’t exactly there for me either. He sent me away to boarding school and only visited the first Sunday of the month when he’d pick me up in his fancy limousine and take me out for lunch or dinner. It was during those infrequent get-togethers that he beat his warnings into my little girl head. Over appetizers and desserts, he brainwashed me about keeping my virtue, staying pure, and not giving in to the curse.

By the time I graduated from an all-girls school and finished a few years of education at a coed college, I was conditioned and focused on my studies. I consider men akin to drugs—something too many people turned to for entertainment or escape. Something I had no desire to try.

But that all changed a few months ago when Daddy Pritchard was arrested and locked up. Without him preaching to me about the curse, it’s been activated.

My curse will no longer go unnoticed.

It’s awake, and it’s famished.

I glance at The Kid just in time to catch him arching back to avoid a swing from his opponent.

I shoot Josie a scrutinizing look. He's not little. He's at least six-foot-one…. I sigh, shaking my head. Look at his diaphyses! You can clearly see that his epiphyses were overachievers. His carpi, oh—they must be very sturdy. Did you see how powerful his hits are?

Josie tilts her head. Ana. Her eyebrow rises. We talked about this. No mumbo-jumbo bullshit when we're out in public. Besides, I don’t know what the hell you're talking about.

I clamp my hands together in my lap, well aware it upsets Josie when I draw from my vast textbook knowledge, so I clarify in a way she’ll better understand. His bones are not only long, but they are big, and—

See? Josie nods. A big, long bone. Now that's something I can relate to. The smirk on her face oozes with sexual innuendo.

I give her a disapproving glare. His carpi, wrist bones that support his fingers, and ulnae, the start of the arm—those are very strong. He's shorter than the other guy, yes, but between the weight of his bones and his muscle-to-fat ratio, he's definitely better built for battle.

Oh! So that's why they're in the same category? Because although the big guy indeed looks bigger, the little guy weighs the same?

Exactly. But appearances aside, The Kid is, without a doubt, stronger than the giant. I turn my attention back to the fight.

Are you sure? Josie pauses to watch The Kid run up the cage, spring forward, and in one smooth swipe, kick his opponent on the side of his head.

Sure about what?

Are you sure you want that one? He looks—

Fearless, I finish with a heavy sigh, awed by the skilled fighter’s moves.

Yeah. Josie turns to me.

Yes. He's exactly what I was looking for.

So, Viewing me from the corner of her eye, Josie sets a hand on her thigh. I take it you're still going to go through with this, then?

Absolutely, I nod. I must take care of the curse, and thanks to Daddy Pritchard, I'll be busy for the next two weeks. Time is running short. I have to get this done. Besides, when I finally get the money my father owes me, I'm out of here.

Josie’s eyes narrow. How do you know you’ll see a dime of Warren Pritchard’s money? His assets are frozen.

I squint back at her. Seriously, with all the power, people, and money Daddy Pritchard has in his back pocket, do you think he’s not gonna get cleared of the charges?

Josie’s only been assigned to me for the past three months, but the agent is smart enough to figure that one out.

He's in jail right now, isn’t he?

Yeah, but you wait and see. He'll get off with a slap on the wrist—if that—and when he does, I plan on taking the money he owes me and getting as far away from him as I can. That's why I need to satisfy the curse tonight, so I can put it behind me and move on. I wish my father would rot in jail, but I’m intelligent enough to know that isn’t going to happen. There are too many people on the take, and he has plenty of money for them to take.

Josie gazes at me. You know, as smart as you are, why would you even believe in this bogus curse, this superstitious crap?

Because, well, because it's real. I feel it inside me, and it's only getting worse.

But, Ana, I think what you’re feeling is—

No! I shake my head. Get him for me, Josie. Just do this last thing for me. Please? Get me The Kid.

RYKER

I walk through the narrow corridor leading to the holding cell, where fighters wait before and after competing. My muscles are on fire, but it’s a welcoming burn. I started fighting young, at only sixteen. I was the youngest competitor at the time, so I was dubbed The Kid. My friend and owner of The Final Round would only agree to let me participate in tonight’s match if I fought under the ridiculous name. Johnny and I go way back to when I was a different person. When I was wild and undisciplined. A kid not interested in paying attention to rules, in the cage or out.

I turn the corner and spot a petite blonde with breasts the size of cantaloupes leaning against the door I’m about to enter. I almost forgot about this particular perk of the fighting life. I get to release some tension in the ring, and my cock gets rewarded with a release of its own. Chicks dig fighters, especially the MMA ones who combat in nothing more than shorts, using their fists and bodies for weapons. It’s raw fighting, with little need for rules, which is why I—and those hot and bothered babes in the audience— find it so alluring. Hey. I nod.

The cute blonde grins at me with an I’m-yours kind of smile. Hi, she chirps, batting fake lashes hanging over big blue eyes.

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve gotten any. I instantly imagine turning her cute chirp into a throaty moan.

I'm Mindy, she says sweetly.

Of course you are. I grin. The name fits her perfectly. Well, Mindy… I scroll my eyes over her body like a Rottweiler examining a steak. Dressed in a tank top three sizes too small and an even smaller white miniskirt, she has groupie written all over her, which works for me. I’m not looking for a long-term relationship or anything that comes with a title. I need to get laid, so little Miss Mindy will do just fine. I place my hand on the wall and lean in. What are you doing outside my door, Mindy? I breathe into her ear, so close my lips almost graze her cheek.

I-I… She gulps.

If my closeness intimidates her, if she can’t handle this little challenge, she’ll be no good to me in bed.

Her eyelids lower for a second. She looks back up at me. I just thought… She pouts luscious pink lips, and her voice turns husky. I thought maybe you'd want to get a drink with me.

I smile. Okay. She'll do. Meet me down the street in a half hour at McMullen's. I withdraw, stroking her one last time with my eyes.

Mindy offers me a seductive smile with the lips I hope to get my cock between tonight, and like a good little groupie, she goes on her way. The click-clack of her heels against the concrete floor slowly drift from my ears as I head through the door.

The room is nothing more than four walls, a massage table, a fridge stocked with refreshments, and a large mirror fighters stand in front of to psych themselves out before going into the cage. I pass the mirror without a glance and open the fridge. Well, at least the last guy left me a bottle of water. I snag it, crack the cap open, and down it. I tear the bloody, scuffed-up tape off my hands, put on my sneakers, and fling my gym bag over my shoulder. I catch a whiff of my sweat and realize it’s a good thing my hotel is right across the street. I’m not about to go see little Miss Mindy without a proper shower.

RYKER

It’s dark. My body feels heavy. Fuck, I’m exhausted. Something sweet, like the scent of lavender and pumpkin pie, wafts to my nose. I inhale deeper to take in more of the arousing smell. It soothes the throbbing in my head. I lift my hand to massage the pulsating ache, but something stops me. I pry my heavy lids open. The light stings my eyes. It takes a few tries before my eyes adjust. I blink and see a woman standing in my hotel room across from me, dressed like she’s going to a masquerade ball. The little black feathers don’t hide the bright green eyes peering back at me through the mask. Her unruly dark auburn hair is toppled on her head but in an attractive way. I scan her tall, slender body, covered only by a thin, black, silky dress. Like a lingerie teaser on Playboy's cover, something to lure you into buying the magazine to see the nude centerfolds. Green eyes and dark hair? Well, she’s not little Miss Mindy. I wonder if the blue-eyed blonde is sitting at the bar waiting for me, thinking I stood her up.

I try to sit up but can’t move. I look at my feet and hands. They’re secured to the bedpost by leather straps, and a sheet has been draped over the lower half of my body. I wiggle, and dammit, my bare ass slides against the mattress. What the hell? I’m tied to a bed, naked, and I have no idea how I got here.

The last thing I remember is going back to my hotel room for a shower. Jet-lagged and exhausted from the fight, I sat on the chair for a second to take a rest and—Wait! The tingling in my body, the fogginess in my head…did she drug me? But how? What did I do before I ended up here? Shit! The water bottle? There was only one in the fridge, so I had to take that one. It must’ve been meant for me. Son of a fucking bitch!

Don't be afraid. Her low and provocative voice carries across the room.

Afraid? I'm not afraid, I snarl. I’m pissed, not afraid.

Being afraid is a natural reaction. You're vulnerable right now, and vulnerability comes from being unable to protect yourself. She takes a step toward me. But do you know what you're trying to protect yourself from? She stops beside the bed and taps the leather restraint on my wrist with her finger. You're afraid because you fear what we all fear—pain. But I'm not going to hurt you.

I examine her with a chuckle. Oh, babe, you've got me confused with the general population. It takes a lot more than some chick tying me to a bed to scare me and pain— I sneer at her, having no idea who my captor is. Pain is nothing more than a challenge, and I defeat challenges.

Hmm. She studies me. Her head tilts back and forth like I’m a creature from another planet. After seeing you fight, I'm inclined to believe you.

You were at the fight? I hide my confusion. Did I see her there? She isn't the forgettable type. Not a woman I’d pass by without a second glance, mostly since I’m a sucker for long legs and auburn hair. The cat-green eyes are enticing too.

Yes. That's why I tied you up. You're very strong.

Listen, princess—

She raises a finger as if to hush me. And strangely enough, I find myself hushed, wanting to hear what she has to say. I want to touch you, she says and crosses her arms over her medium-size tits. My cock disobediently thumps, and the sheet ruffles. With your permission, of course. I have no intention of raping you, and—

Really? Did she just say that? Raping me? You fucking drugged me and tied me up! I shake my wrists. Doll, if you’re worried about violating my body without my damn permission, I think you’re already guilty. No longer enticed by the idea of her touching me, my libido’s silenced from the extreme anger coursing through me.

Yes. As I said, you are very strong, but all you need to do is tell me to stop and—

Look, pumpkin— Pumpkin? Did I really just call her that? Fuck! It’s all I smell. I lift my chest from the bed, getting as close as the restraints allow. If you wanted to get laid, all you needed to do was ask, I seethe, speaking for my cock, anger filling the head connected to my neck. I’m not a fan of being shackled to a hotel bed, no matter how hot she is. She doesn’t flinch from my aggression, and both of my heads are pleased about it. I prefer a woman with a little grit, and this one clearly has more than her fair share.

I'm not entirely sure I want to have sex with you, and as I was trying to explain to you, that’s why I needed to tie you up.

When the little feline admits so matter-of-factly that she isn’t sure she wants to get laid, both my heads agree it comes as a disappointment. I settle back on the bed, body fatigued from the fight and whatever drug she spiked my water with.

Wait. Is she trying to tell me she tied me up for her own safety? She doesn’t know me, for if she had, she’d know there’s no need. My discipline is indestructible. I have needs and urges like any other guy, but I’d never take a woman against her will. Not to say that once consent is established, a woman wouldn’t find herself in a bad way, crying and writhing beneath my body. If you don’t want to fuck, then what the hell do you want?

As I said, I want to touch you. With your permission, of course.

I’m not sure how to respond. What man wouldn’t want this chick to touch him? Already my cock bellows to let her do it, but tied up, my loss of power berates me, demanding I regain control over the situation. I’m not comfortable in the submissive position. It’s something I’ve never experienced, nor wanted to. Now, lying here like a shark without its teeth, I understand why. I need to regain control while maintaining my strict discipline. It’s what I pride myself on. I have no choice, considering my body is contaminated with the blood of a rapist.

Tell you what. I nod at her dress. Cuffed or not, it’s time to grab hold of the reins. Why don’t you take off that dress, and we'll see how my body reacts to you. I draw my gaze up to her jaded eyes. Then I’ll let you know if you can touch me.

She tilts her head considerately and turns to the door. Perhaps she's thinking of running. Fuck, as messed up as all this is, I don’t want her to go. Not to mention, I don’t need to be left naked in this awkward and helpless position.

Her head slowly twists back around with her body. She moves her hands to the bottom of the thin material and lifts.

I hold my breath. Beneath the teasing little dress, a black lace push-up reveals the start of blushing pink nipples. I’m drawn down to her flat stomach and the small tattoo of a symbol above her belly button. I snap to her skimpy black panties.

Fuck! My cock responds fiercely beneath the sheet, demanding I allow her to touch me.

I glance at the lift in the sheet between my legs. She follows my eyes. Her chin tips up, and a sly smile turns the corners of her sweet, plump lips. It appears your body is reacting appropriately.

I groan. There’s nothing appropriate about getting turned on by a bitch who drugged and kidnapped me.

ANA

I stand and wait for a response. I’m trembling with fear, a natural reaction considering the situation. I coax my body to relax, but it refuses to comply. I mask my trepidation best I can and gaze into his metallic-blue dark as a starless night eyes. He looked younger in the cage. Up close, I make out the fine lines around his eyes. He must be closer to thirty, but as deciphered earlier, The Kid is indeed a man. There’s no denying it the way he holds his sexy assurance, even bound and captured. Yes. The boyish grin deceives all. Deep in my stomach, I sense he’s an experienced man, and it frightens me. Why didn’t I pick a more docile man to satisfy the curse?

A docile man wouldn’t come close to alleviating the tenacious urge. Tying him up was a wise choice, for I believe he isn’t afraid. He shows no signs of fear. Anger? Yes, at least until I took my dress off. Now from his dark, smoldering eyes right down to the impressive stir beneath the thin sheet, he looks thoroughly stimulated.

Turn around, he orders in a low and husky tone.

My legs move as if piloted by his voice, twisting my body in a full circle. Aware of what my thong reveals—my naked ass cheeks—I come back to face him. The weight of his grave, improper survey shakes my bare legs. He’s tied up, yet he touches me with his reaching and seductive eyes, causing my skin to ripple with excitement, uncertainty, and want.

Get on the bed, he instructs.

Again, pulled by his firm voice, I place a knee on