A Sinful Gift

Emma Castle

Contents

A Note from Emma Castle

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

About the Author

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2024 by Lauren Smith writing as Emma Castle

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at emma@emmacastlebooks.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

This book was previously published in 2014 by Samhain Publishing. This is a republication of the original version.

ISBN: 978-1-962760-50-8 (e-book edition)

ISBN: 978-1-962760-51-5 (print edition)

For everyone who’s ever dreamed of being taken by that jerk you didn’t want to admit you liked…and being shared with his best friend.

A Note from Emma Castle

Hello!

I’m so glad you here, truly. Thank you for choosing to read A Sinful Gift. This is a novella and yes, that means it is short, but I hope you’ll enjoy the naughty ride it takes you on!

Sometimes when I’m writing deeply emotional, hard to write about topics, or torturing my beloved characters, I like to take a brief break and just do something sexy and fun. That’s what this novella turned out to be, a lovely break from the intensity of other projects. It’s meant to be enjoyed over a lunch break, or right before bed, or any other time you just need need a minute to escape somewhere fun with two yummy book boyfriends.

As always, I’m glad and honored you’ve taken a chance on my story and I hope you like it!

With love,

Emma Castle

Chapter One

Tonight, Hazel Callahan was a goddess of war, and she deserved to celebrate her victory.

Hazel grinned as she slipped onto a stool at her favorite little bar in Manhattan, the Golden Lair. It was one of those dark speakeasy clubs that required a new password each week to get in. Sexy, sleek, modern designs with a dash of glitzy 1920s art deco made it the perfect place to celebrate her big win. She had done the unthinkable. She’d beaten her longtime legal nemesis in an epic contract negotiation.

Blake London—her gorgeous, rich, and so impossibly arrogant opposing counsel—had been forced to concede to her client’s requirements on a real estate contract. The negotiations had been intense over the last two months. Blake’s scorching blue eyes had practically burned a hole into the table when he’d realized she’d outmaneuvered him and he finally had to tell his clients to accept her company’s terms. Watching her old law school nemesis tell his clients his legal advice was for them to acquiesce to her demands made the last two months worth it.

“What can I get you?” the young woman tending the bar asked as she reached the corner where Hazel had tucked herself in. Hazel liked sitting where she could watch everyone in the bar come and go. People-watching was one of her favorite pastimes, and this bar always had the most fascinating people in it.

“A chocolate martini?” Hazel rarely splurged on cocktails, but tonight was a hell of a good night to indulge.

“Sure thing, hon.” The bartender turned away to prepare her drink, and Hazel closed her eyes, replaying every glorious detail of taking the wind out of Blake London’s sails.

He was a partner in one of the other biggest law firms in Manhattan, and he often ended up across the table from Hazel, usually in business negotiations. Neither of them was in court that often. As corporate attorneys, they both focused more on business deals rather than lawsuits. He might be a partner at one of the toughest law firms in Manhattan now, but their shared history had begun in law school at Pepperdine. They’d fought tooth and nail against each other for the top position in their class every year for three years. Back then, they’d come out pretty evenly, but each of her victories was a point he’d had to acknowledge. Even though they were six years out of law school, their academic rivalry was stronger than ever when they faced each other across a negotiation table.

“Thought I’d find you here,” a smooth, dark voice said, interrupting her daydreaming.

Hazel’s eyes flew open, and she turned to find none other than Blake himself sliding onto a stool beside her.

“What are you doing here, London?”

His sensual lips kicked up into an arrogant grin that made every woman, even her, feel torn between wanting to slap him or kiss him.

“You didn’t think I’d let you off that easy tonight, Counselor,” he teased, his voice holding a hint of mischief underlaid with the primal darkness that always gave her delicious shivers.

He was dangerous. Too dangerous. She knew that intimately, because she’d made the mistake of surrendering to him one night in their first year of law school. He had fucked her hard and dirty, pistoning into her with a raw strength that had left her thighs shaking. She might have survived that, but then he’d grinned at her, the same way he was doing now, and praised her as his good girl, and she’d been flooded with so much pleasure she was sure she’d never stop coming. Sex like that was too overwhelming. She was a woman with her own mind and her own life, and she wasn’t about to let a man like Blake London own her body and soul through mind-blowing sex.

“Fuck off. I won this round,” she reminded him, and before he could reply, the bartender brought her chocolate martini.

“What about you, handsome?” The bartender gazed at Blake with stars in her eyes. Hazel couldn’t blame her. The man was the walking definition of sex and sin. A girl could climax if she stared too long at his chiseled features and those electric-blue eyes. She wanted to fist her hands in his rich, chocolate-dark hair, which always seemed to be styled to look slightly windblown, as if he spent the afternoons on a yacht in the south of France. It was unfair how attractive a man could look with so little effort.

“Scotch on the rocks. Glenlivet,” he specified. He turned his focus back on Hazel as if the bartender never existed. She gave him credit for that.

“You won, Callahan,” he conceded as he removed his dark-blue suit coat and slung it over the empty stool on his other side. His white dress shirt probably cost four times more than the burgundy knit dress she wore that she’d bought at a Black Friday sale. Damn, he looked good. The shirt was just snug enough to cling to his lean but powerfully muscled body. He wasn’t a hulk, but the man was cut and strong enough to lift her up like she weighed nothing. She remembered that all too well—how easily he’d lifted her up and pinned her against the door of his apartment.

“And you lost.” She sipped her martini and licked her lips at the delicious flavors in the alcohol. It was like drinking dessert.

“I lost to you,” Blake murmured softly.

His gaze landed on her face, but she refused to look at him. It was dangerous to make eye contact with a man who had the power to eye-fuck a woman in the best way. But it was also his words. The way he’d said, I lost to you . . . as if he would only ever concede victory to her, and somehow that made the rush of pleasure all the more heady.

“I don’t really care what turns you on, London,” she replied coolly.

“Don’t you?” He leaned in, pinning her further against the wall she sat by. It shouldn’t have turned her on to get cornered like that, but it did. “You did care once, Callahan. And God, you were so fucking perfect that night. All that red hair spilling around your shoulders while you sucked me off on your knees. Then when I bent you over my desk . . . Babe, that was the hardest I’ve ever fucked a woman in my life, and you took it like such a good girl.”

Oh God . . . Hazel clamped her thighs together as a cramping pain of pure, harsh lust twisted in her lower belly, forming a knot. The man knew just what to say to remind her how wanting him actually hurt.

“I haven’t thought about that night in six years,” she lied.

Those lips she dreamed about far too often flirted with a smile as he watched her.

“Liar.” He whispered the word as if it turned him on even more that she was attempting and failing to deny the electric charge that existed between them. Their gazes locked, and she knew she couldn’t hide her reaction to the memory of that night they’d shared and how often she’d touched herself at night and cried out his name.

His blue eyes sharpened, brightened, as he seemed to read some hint of surrender in her expression. “Come home with me tonight.”

“No,” she replied, fighting to ignore the pounding of her heart against her ribs. Even though her body screamed, Yes, God, yes! She somehow found the strength to say, “Go home, London.”

He leaned in to say something more, but a sudden hulking presence behind them had Blake halting.

“Is this guy bothering you, sweetheart?” a deep, gravelly voice asked.

Both she and Blake turned to look at the absolute mountain of a man standing behind them. He was fair-haired, with a faint tan and stunning brown eyes that were currently fixed in a stone-cold glare at London.

“He . . . Um . . .” Hazel couldn’t think past how hot the stranger was. She never imagined she’d ever meet a man who could give Blake a run for his money in the looks department. But this man . . . He had that all-American, classic boy-next-door look, but he was built like a tank. Her gaze dropped instantly to his hips, which were narrow.

She gave herself a mental shake to try to free herself of the sudden image of a man this size between her thighs, pounding her into oblivion. Hazel took a drink and licked the chocolate off her lips. It had to be the martini. Chocolate always made her think about sex.

Her self-appointed rescuer wore dark blue jeans, work boots, and a black-and-blue flannel shirt. He looked like a sexy lumberjack come to life. There was a boyish charm to him, even though his hard and chiseled features were intensely masculine. She didn’t see men like this in the Golden Lair that often . . . maybe not ever. Most men who came to this bar were like Blake, wearing expensive suits, reeking of high-dollar cologne. This man stood close enough that she could breathe in his scent. No cologne, just a clean, masculine scent with a hint of soap that smelled like pine.

“Tell him I’m not bothering you, Callahan,” Blake ordered, his tone quiet but hard.

The mountain man’s gaze cut to Hazel, searching her eyes. “I don’t mind throwing trash out. You give the word and he’s gone, sweetheart.” The way he said sweetheart wasn’t patronizing like it would be from most men who didn’t know her. No, when he said it, it felt like a true endearment, as though he was the sort of man who saw every woman in his life as sweet, and the word came from a place of affection.

Damn . . .

Blake, never the type to back down from a fight, pushed off his stool and stood toe to toe with the other man. They were of a similar height. An electric charge shot between them, a violent aura of two males in their prime ready to kill over a female. Until that moment, Hazel never thought she would like the idea of anyone fighting over her, but something about these two men sent a flood of wet heat between her thighs, forcing her to squeeze her legs together and self-consciously tug at the hem of her dress.

“Ma’am?” The man’s gravelly voice raked deliciously over her skin, and her nipples pebbled at the sound.

“Um . . .” Why was she having trouble speaking? She was a lawyer; speaking was her job. But damned if she wasn’t tongue-tied by this entire situation.

“Callahan,” Blake warned, and she recognized that voice. It held a warning.

The last time he’d used that voice, he’d had her bottom in the air, spanking it hard enough it brought tears to her eyes and made her beg for more, more of him, more of all the dark, sinful pleasures only he seemed to know how to awaken in her.

“I think the lady’s hesitation means you need to take a walk.” The man jerked his head toward the front door of the club.

Blake stared at him for a long moment, and Hazel held her breath. Blake had every right to be confident. He was a fighter, a man who could hold his own in a fistfight just as easily as he did in boardrooms and courtrooms. But wisely, he chose not to fight her rescuer tonight.

“Fine.” Blake’s hard stare softened as he looked at Hazel. “As promised this afternoon, you will have my client’s signed contract in your inbox tomorrow morning.” He was once more focused on business, and Hazel breathed a sigh of relief when he put on his coat. He threw back the rest of his whiskey in a hard gulp, set the glass down, and without a glance at the mountain man, left the bar.

“Asshole,” the flannel-wearing man said as he took a seat a few stools away from Hazel and ordered an old-fashioned from the bartender.

“Thanks for the rescue,” Hazel murmured to him.

“No problem. Some men need to learn that no means no, and when a woman wants to drink alone at a bar, that’s her business and not an invitation.”

Hazel chuckled. “You sound like a Boy Scout.”

The man flashed her a boyish grin that hit her behind the knees. “Eagle Scout, ma’am.” He gave her the three-fingered Boy Scout salute. A blush worked its way up her neck to her face, and she nearly asked him about all the different knots he could tie around a girl. But she stopped herself just in time. Damn, this martini was working some black magic in her.