Bared to Him: The Bundle

By Emma Rose

The Complete 4-Part Series in a Single Bundle
Lillian Sauers could wear six layers of clothing and still feel like her embarrassing curves were on display for the world to see...Yet when she’s offered a high-paying job as a live model for a famous painter, her need to pay off her student loans outweighs her desire for modesty.

As a world-renowned painter, Jonathan has tasted the fruits of his success by attending the art galas and parties of the country’s elite. However, with his recent success he has felt a tremendous pressure to perform and he worries that he has lost his muse, the creative flare of inspiration that drives him to produce masterpieces. For weeks, he’s haunted by the same dream that prevents him from painting. He desperately needs to find his muse or he will lose all that he has worked so hard to accomplish.

The idea of posing for a stranger is almost too embarrassing for Lillian to imagine. But when she meets Jonathan, she can’t help but notice a certain attraction in his eyes. Will she be able to let go of her inhibitions and let him prove to her how sexy she really is? Or will her insecurities stand in her way of discovering true beauty?

Bared to Him is a series by bestselling author, Emma Rose, and contains sexual themes. It is not intended for readers under the age of eighteen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emma Rose
• Release date: Sep 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310273421

Emma Rose

As a full-time independent author, Emma Rose delights in giving you stories that draw you in and characters who captivate your imagination.

Book preview

Bared to Him: The Bundle

By

Emma Rose

Copyright © 2014 by Emma Rose

Smashwords Edition

*****

PUBLISHED BY:

Crave Romance

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 persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All characters in this book are eighteen years or older.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author except where permitted by law.

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Bared to Him: The Bundle

Part 1

The fireplace crackled warmth throughout the room breaking the heavy cold air into electric jolts as she stood before Jonathan. Reaching to her, the artist reveled in her form. Her symmetrical features beckoned him and drew his attention to her ruby lips. Her dusky gray eyes looked with longing at his hands. Silently she begged for him to touch her, to reach into her being and make her real.

You are picture perfect, Jonathan whispered, his heart pounding. He continued to stare at her nude figure feeling waves of arousal wash over him. Her breasts, round and full, accentuated by dark brown areola provided a sensual center-point to the piece. Although wearing his painting sweats, his swelling cock pulled the fabric tight, forming an engorged bulge. He walked toward her in silence. Stopping in front of her, his eyes traced the path down her curves to the y of her body. Shaved and sparkling, as if some sort of supernatural glitter had been sprinkled on her nether lips, she shivered when his gaze lingered there a few moments too long.

Jonathan reached to her, wanting to wrap his body around her and let the heat of his lust warm them both in the frigid studio air. His hand rubbed across her cheek and through her hair. Leaning in to kiss her, he broke away at the last second to look at her beauty. A red drop trailed down the corner of her mouth, trickling off her chin, and landing on his shoe. Before he could step away, most of her right cheek sloughed off and landed on the floor with a moist plop. Her mouth, now opened in horror, liquefied and poured down her body in a red, beige, gray mixture that ran between her breasts. Her right nipple fell into his hand.

"NOOOOOOO!" The scream was loud enough to wake Jonathan and several of the other residents of the luxury flats in the building. He bolted up in the bed, feeling beads of sweat trail off his forehead. The phone rang, causing him to jump, but he quieted himself enough to answer normally. It was probably one of the neighbors asking if he was being murdered, and if so, could he keep it down a bit?

How’s it goin’? Rob said in his usual I’m-too-busy-to-talk-so-I-called-you fashion. The Baltimore native always thought he was being encouraging, never realizing his voice was the very sound of pressure. Any good ones? Anything to sell.

What time is it? Jonathan asked, picking through the cotton in his mind.

It’s early, or late. I just left the bar. I thought you artists worked all night and shit. Were you asleep?

I had the dream again, Jonathan advised his manager. He felt he owed everything to Rob including the inconvenient truth that not only was he creatively blocked, he might also be losing his mind.

The melting model? Rob asked. Jonathan was the first and only person he had managed. The young man had no idea how to deal with the dicey world of artists and their issues.

Yes, the melting model, Jonathan sighed. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from Rob, but whatever it was he knew he wouldn’t likely be getting it at three in the morning.

Well, chin up. I will have a real model for you soon enough. I talked to my buddy Brad who owns the bar. He says he has just the chick for you. I promise she won’t melt.

What? You did what? Jonathan shouted, suddenly unconcerned about waking anyone up in the inner harbor. I’m not ready. A model? I can’t deal with this now! What the hell are you…

Relax, Rob laughed, oblivious to the fact real suffering may be going on. He still has to talk to the chick, and she might say no. It will be a while.

You better hope it’s a damn long time, Jonathan warned, his voice creeping out between his locked jaws. For all our sakes.

***

Lillian Sauers could wear six layers of clothing and still feel naked. Known in college for donning a bra, cami, t-shirt, overshirt, and jacket in the winter, her body was a visual Fort Knox. Unfortunately, Brad would be at the bar tonight, so her usual outfit would be slimmed down to a white overshirt tied at the midriff, an industrial strength underwire bra once she removed her coat. The walls and bar top of Candyland were decorated with so many bright colors that wearing white was the only way to get people to notice her or realize she was, in fact, the main bartender. Or, at least, she hoped she would be the main bartender. Lately, she’d been passed over.

Slipping into the glittering hot spot right off the inner harbor, she felt the music pound in her ears, easing her discomfort at being so scantily dressed. Tall and leggy at five feet ten inches, Lillian lamented her best feature would be hidden behind the high bar while her somewhat pudgy stomach, large breasts and round face would be on display for the whole world to see. If she had her way the bar would be built from the ceiling down and only her legs would be shown to patrons.

Cold night for a hot time, Roni cackled as she passed Lillian in the employee locker area. Stripping down to a tight yoga shirt and white pair of daisy dukes, Roni didn’t have Lillian’s body image issues. She also didn’t have her breasts. A B cup on the best days, Roni would spend most of the night trying to stick out her chest for a better tip. Course, when you got the side bar I guess it doesn’t matter.

Side bar? Again? Lillian groaned. Almost every night for the past two weeks she’d been scheduled side bar, otherwise known as, The Dead Zone where the young woman would spend most of the night making drinks for waitresses to bus to tables and serving draft to the town’s local alcoholics. Who’s on the main? You and…

Me and Lazy Lips, Roni shrugged. You wouldn’t like the main with her. You spend the night breaking your back while she pretty much bats her eyes and wears out her knees.

At least the broken back makes some decent tips, Lillian whined. She closed her eyes and willfully pushed away the image of a huge adding machine totaling up her month’s bills. Rent, food, electricity, and the student loan payment added up to more than the side bar was going to provide, even if she upsold the regulars on a couple of craft beers instead of the mug of Miller Light they generally hugged all night. I’m going to talk to Brad.

Good luck with that, honey, Roni shrugged again, stretching her back and pushing her breasts up in the mirror. He isn’t exactly the equal opportunity commission, you know?

Lillian shook her head as she remembered the training Brad gave her and Roni their first week at Candyland. The women went through bartending school together and became fast friends. Lillian was desperate for cash, having spent her entire savings trying to live while figuring out her English degree wasn’t getting her the job it promised. Roni wanted a second job to help her brother’s kids since he went to jail. Both women were proficient drink makers; Roni alone seemed at ease with the rest of the duties.

Shorts tighter, shirts lighter, ladies, Brad chimed after watching them both make a speed set of six shooters. Roni nodded. Lillian, who expected praise for her delectable Royal Apples, was disappointed with the response.

Weren’t these good enough? I can make ten drinks in six minutes, Lillian blurted, causing everyone in the room to snicker.

Good for you, Shakespeare. Good for you. Brad intoned, staring at her breasts the entire time. But this isn’t bar school. This is Candyland. It’s a tourist and trade bar, baby. I didn’t hire you for speed. Get it? Candyland?

What are you saying? Lillian persisted as Roni began polishing glasses.

I’m sayin’, Brad rolled his eyes and pointed to the liquor shelved behind her. This is the liquor and YOU are the candy.

From that moment on, Lillian knew her days of layering clothes were over. She hiked up her shirts, bought tighter shorts and did her best to make the patrons feel at home. But, her mixology far exceeded her talent or desire for exhibition and she ended up stuck in the side bar getting minimum wage and whatever few dollars happened to get tipped out from the wait staff.

She emerged from the locker room to see Roni flirting with a Navy man while pouring 3 White Russians at one time. Amy was in the corner fumbling with a bottle of Maker’s Mark.

Cut the wax off, Lillian scoffed, passing the substandard bar girl behind. Amy hadn’t been to bar school or any other school Lillian could name. Her sole talent was her unrelenting willingness to prostitute herself to any patron for any tip no matter what it required. Short and stringy, with over-dyed hair and chapped lips, unable to make the simplest cocktail, Amy made a poor second to Lillian. But, she spent every night at the center of the main bar holding court and raking in the money Lillian sorely wanted to send to the Federal Student Loan Association.

Long hours later, Roni was washing the spill mats while Lillian measured the bottles for inventory.

She’s over-pouring again, Lillian mumbled, checking the bottles against the night’s receipts trying desperately not to look at her tip tally on the bottom. If she saw that number again she’d burst out in tears. You think Brad would check her with an accu-pour or something.

Sauers, you’re crazy, chica! Roni laughed, pulling the plug out of the long drain. He’s not gonna say shit to her. She’s got the men lined up at the bar ready to talk nasty and drink heavily. That’s all Brad cares about.

Well, I’d line up too if I was getting four ounces of bourbon for the price of two, Lillian grumbled. It’s bad business.

Girl, when are you gonna get it? This IS the business. We aren’t in the liquid industry. We’re in the entertainment industry. When she’s getting them drunk and acting the fool, it is entertaining. I got the clean-up covered. Why don’t you go talk to Brad. You can tell him all about business.

Thanks, Roni, you’re the best. Lillian smiled through gritted teeth. Roni laughed and stuck out her tongue.

Lillian carefully untied the knot in her overshirt and smoothed the lines as best she could over her belly. She’d have a better chance of getting in the main bar if she just took her shirt off instead of covering herself up farther. But, no power alive was going to convince her to do that. Walking down the grime-laced hall, she ended up in front of Brad’s door. She figured he was counting receipts because he had the music up and the door nearly closed. She knocked. The door opened when her knuckles hit the wood.

Brad, I… Lillian stopped in the doorway, her eyes wide. He may have started counting out the registers but the tape and drawers were all on top of his desk. Brad was leaning back in his chair, his pants down around his thighs, his hand on the top of Amy’s head as he pumped his cock in her mouth. The slutty little bartender bobbed back and forth with the rhythm of his dick as he fucked her face. Oh! I…um…I…will…come back later…