No Limits Copyright Š 2014 by Ashley Adams All rights reserved. No part of this story (e-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 written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or book reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Edited by Bobette Ames Wright Cover Art by Terry Wright Published by Amore Moon Publishing, an imprint of TWB Press ISBN: 978-1-936991-80-8
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By Ashley Adams
Chapter 1 Ann could have driven home from the athletic club another way. She could have taken the tree-lined boulevard through her stately neighborhood in the suburbs of D.C. Instead, she detoured four miles to drive past No Limits. She had driven by the mansion many times and wondered what it was like inside. The building stood fifty yards behind a high wrought iron fence and heavy gate, far enough off the main road that the windows couldn’t be seen, yet close enough she could see the building’s columned entrance and the walkway from secluded parking. No Limits was a sex club, and she wondered what happened inside and what type of people went there. Were any like her, respectable yet curious? Or were they vulgar and depraved? She drove past the club, and in an instant, the huge iron gate that blocked passage to its secrets disappeared in her rearview mirror. What did the gate represent? A barrier not to be crossed by the timid, or
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protection for those who shared their most private acts in public? Either way, she didn’t have the nerve to find out. A bit frustrated with herself, she drove into her four-car garage and parked next to Hal’s Mercedes. By the time the automatic door closed behind her, she had entered the kitchen and dropped her gym bag. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, sat at the island, and screwed off the cap. Is this all there is in my life? Was she going to wither on the vine? Spend the rest of her life alone? Or would she somehow find love and passion again. Losing Hal to a heart attack had been devastating. For two years she had been alone, and she hadn’t been interested in meeting men. But that crippling grief was passing. Her imagination sometimes took wild leaps to fill the void in her life. Those thoughts were getting stronger now, more earthy and visceral. Late at night, lying in her huge empty bed, she would be seized by cravings. Raw, basic cravings for deep, sweaty sex throughout the night, sex that would leave her limp and exhausted. Sex that would take her and use her until she melted into the mattress and slept the sleep of the satiated. But she couldn’t seek out that kind of experience. It wouldn’t be proper. She had too much to risk: her social standing, friends, and the reputation of a long established family name. Bless Hal. He had left her a large trust and a gorgeous home. She
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had her health, and she even had her looks. She had everything but a sexual release. She cast a glance into a mirror down the hall and allowed a faint smile to cross her mouth, slightly embarrassed to let her vanity surface. She’d kept her body fit. Not bad for her mid thirties. In fact, she didn’t consider herself just attractive. No, she was better than attractive. Pretty. And even hot if she allowed herself to say so. Size eight. “Tits firm and pert,” she told herself. “Even if they are a little on the small side.” She shrank back in embarrassment even though no one was around to see her gawk at herself. Oh, my God, I said tits. What’s gotten into me? She moved from the kitchen to the family room and flopped on the couch. Her leotard cut high at the thigh was still damp from her workout. She touched herself, and cravings surged through her. The ache increased, and the pressure heightened. She let her fingers slide up...
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About the Author
Ashley Adams once worked for a finance company in the tallest office building in Denver and often found herself daydreaming about skinny-dipping in mountain hot springs with a cowboy or two. She finally chucked her career of worrying about returns on investment and operating incomes to begin writing stories about strong women who stretch the boundaries for ‘good girls.’ She believes there are many women like her who want to read about other women’s fantasies that might come true. Some of her stories have happy-ever-after endings with Mr. Right, but some are romps with new friends (plural intended) and Mr. Right-Now. She lives in a ski town in Colorado where she has ample inspiration from bad-boy ski bums and lean, hard cowboys.
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