Knight Nostalgia: A Knights of the Board Room Anthology
Joey W. Hill
Acknowledgments
A special thanks to Elizabeth Lowell for her 1993 book, Untamed. Many years ago, her “falcon” scene was one that stuck with me when I was exploring Dominant/submissive dynamics in my own writing. I’ve included a little homage to that in Conqueror’s Fantasy, and I offer ardent thanks that writers like her incorporated D/s elements in their mainstream romance books, to guide those of us who eventually penned “official” BDSM erotic romance. Oh, and if you’ve never read Untamed, I highly recommend it. It’s a wonderful love story and a classic!
Gratitude as always to my core editing team for their fabulous work – Lauren, Debi, Judy, Julie and Sheri. Thank you, Debi, for helping Jon find the right words for Rachel. And Judy, for recognizing that Matt doesn’t have to pretend to be a conqueror – he damn well is one!
Since I’m as hopeless as Marcie when it comes to cooking, a tremendous thanks to Christi for the green bean recipe and Aunt Linda for the key to baking great cookies.
Another hundred-times-over thank you to all the devoted fans of the Knights of the Board Room series. Your enthusiasm for these characters has taken them to far greater heights than I ever expected. Though the full-length stories of these characters have been told, and the muse has shown no inclination to write more, you all are largely responsible for this anthology.
How? It’s all in the title: nostalgia. Defined on the Internet as “a sentimental longing or wistful affection.” The stories included in this compilation were spawned by “character interviews” done with the cast members, where certain possibilities were mentioned. Or by tidbits dropped in the books themselves as titillating behind-the-scenes events. But all of them are the result of readers who latched onto those mentions and asked if they could become novellas.
The answer is YES, and here they are. Enjoy!
Author Note/Reminder: In previous books, multiple interviews and shame-faced social media posts, I have admitted to thoroughly screwing up timelines in my books, in many ways that can’t be fixed. Thank goodness, I didn’t go into a science or math field—not that anyone would have ever hired me in that capacity! Therefore, please ignore any timeline gaffes you note in these stories. I am likely fully aware of them, but decided to write the story the way I found most pleasing, regardless (lol). I hope you can forgive that, and enjoy the story anyway.
Conqueror’s Fantasy
Matthew Lord Kensington was unsettled. Nervous, if he was being entirely truthful with himself.
He ran a Fortune 500 company he’d expanded tenfold from his father’s oil field operations. He’d embraced his identity as a sexual Dominant at nearly the same time he’d taken those reins, so whether in bed or in the office, he remained in control, in ways that contented and challenged him. He’d recovered from enough mistakes in his life that missteps didn’t fluster him. They didn’t derail him from achieving his goals.
He didn’t get nervous. Ever.
Though admittedly, many husbands might feel jumpy if they were being confronted by his current situation. Two astoundingly beautiful women—neither one his wife—were kneeling at his feet. They were also naked, except for tiny golden waist chains that proclaimed them slaves. His slaves.
Apparently thinking he hadn’t heard her, the redhead with milk-white skin and amazingly generous breasts repeated their purpose for being here.
“You ordered a bath and massage, my lord, to remove the dust of the battlefield. You wished to be clean before bedding your conquest.”
“I gave no such order.”
The two women remained silent, bowing their heads. They of course would never dispute his word. Then it clicked. Some days, Savannah knew how to outplay even his best move.
This part of their trip had been planned as a special surprise for her, but she would have been made aware of it a few hours ago. As a result, he expected she’d made her own alteration to the session.
Savannah Tennyson Kensington was the only force on earth who could unbalance or take him by surprise. Or make him nervous. She’d done all three tonight, though he would manfully do his best to make sure she didn’t know it.
Or at least not until after he offered her the fantasy she hadn’t expected him to fulfill.
Up until coming to The Resort, a private Caribbean BDSM pleasure island, they’d enjoyed their Dom/sub interactions mostly in private, but when she’d told him how she wanted a safe place to explore that side of herself even more deeply, he’d gifted her with a visit for their anniversary.
He’d initially intended to reveal it as their destination once they were on their way to it, but after learning all the offerings the resort offered, he told her a few weeks before, so he could learn what interested her the most.
During that time, they’d discussed a variety of experiences they wanted to explore as Master and sub. The Resort could accommodate any aspect of the lifestyle money could buy. They both could afford a lot, though Matt had refused to let her pay for any of this. For once, she’d acquiesced without argument about a large purchase. She understood the important nuances of what they were exploring here, a space where she’d relinquish total control to him in an undiluted Master/sub environment.
As they’d lain on their bed at home one night and looked through the comprehensive booklet and a variety of glossy supplemental brochures together, they’d discarded those things not compatible with either of their interests. But when she lingered on the role play section, a tiny smile on her lips, he’d asked her what was going through her mind.
“It’s nothing. Just a memory.”
He tipped up her chin and met her blue eyes. During the years he’d known her, he’d come to the conclusion the shade was as indescribable as the endless blues of water and sky, changing with the shifting of moon and sun. “Tell me.”
Her smile became shy, reminding him of the child who’d been her father’s shadow until she embraced her own identity and became the formidable woman she was. She was three times the CEO that Gregory Tennyson had ever been.
The child who had grown into an incomparable woman had never had bedtime stories. But now she told him one.
“Do you remember the night I came to your office and you revealed your feelings for me?”
The humor in her expression was reflected in his own. As if either of them would ever forget that night. “My feelings for you were always obvious. You just required an aggressive takeover move to notice.”