The World of Gilded Lily

Today my new release Gilded Lily hits the cyber shelves. I'm very proud of this book for very personal reasons. Lily's world was part fantasy for me and partly a grief process taking place that took me to my knees. I hope everyone enjoys this magical and sensual world of three people. One needs to find his journey. Something doesn't feel right and needs to get away. A woman who has found the courage to attempt pushing the envelope on the life she knows she deserves. Letting the past go is painful and leaping into the future is terrifying. And lastly, another man who is finding his peace in a dominance he is now given permission to embrace. Three people traveling on their own paths and coming together for an explosive sexual experience that leaves them breathless and amazed at far they've come.

GILDED LILY


Lily stood outside the funeral home with a cigarette clenched between two trembling fingers. The stale taste lingered against her lips as she blew the small billow of smoke into the warm afternoon breeze. It was only on rare occasions she needed to light up. The day her ex walked out. The reading of her grandmother’s will. When her mother called to state, matter-of-factly, that the lump in her breast wasn’t a caffeine deposit. This was another event to tag on to the growing list.

Cigarette teetering between her lips, she rifled through her purse for a mint. She should’ve pulled her hair up. Tony always knew what was best, she thought. Should’ve worn the flat sandals too, and definitely should’ve swiped on some extra deodorant. All the wishing in the world wasn’t going to bring Tony here. He didn’t care much for New York; besides, he was overrun at the office. But the patients could’ve waited. She’d been his submissive for three years, after all, and needed him more than ever.

Finally. She thumbed the tiny lid on the plastic container and shook the last green pellet into her palm. After grinding the fire-red end of the cigarette into the sand pit ashtray, she shoved the candy into her mouth. She stuffed the container into her purse and fished out the compact mirror. She checked her lipstick and hair. “Nicholas was right,” she said to herself, clipping the compact closed and dropping it back into her purse. “If there’s not a man marching with an umbrella and a band behind him, what’s the point of a funeral? Why else is the word fun in it?”

Two tall men stood by the frosted glass doors. Their gentle nods preceded their opening the doors for her to enter. Lily politely smiled and walked through into a hall lined with the other guests. Clutching her bag, she tightened her fingers together around the leather straps. The feel of leather was a reminder of comfort. The sensation of a supple belt snapping against her bare skin always led to the delicious heat of the sting.

The reel in her head played in repetition. It was Tony’s voice telling her she could do this. You can do this. Deep breaths… Follow the line.

God, Tony, I need you.

Deep breaths… Follow the line. You can do this.

Tony…

She slid the purse straps over her shoulder and tucked her hands to their familiar position behind her back. The silk blouse Tony had chosen for her to wear fluttered against her heated skin. Nicholas, God rest his soul, used to tell her she dressed like a schoolteacher and acted like a schoolgirl. Lily grinned, thinking about his handsome face, the way he’d pull his baseball cap down to shade his eyes from the bright sun. She stifled fresh tears and took a deep breath before stepping toward a small podium.

It was her turn at the guest book. She penned her name, then stared at the space next to her shaky handwriting. Affiliation. That’s all the title read. What should she write there? Friend… simply friend. That was as good a title as any, she guessed.

She moved aside to let the man behind her have access to the book. An older couple passed and she followed them through the archway. The line to the coffin was long. She decided it’d be best not to go up to see him yet. Seeing her friend lying in a box wasn’t something she was ready to face. Such a colorful man. Greenery and white roses? Lily gave a quiet snort. Anyone who really knew him would’ve brought hibiscus and daffodils. Choosing a folding chair in the rear of the large seating area, she inconspicuously sat down.

The overwhelming heaviness in her chest pushed her senses into a numb void as she scanned the room, watching people come and go through the wide set of French doors. Some stood at the coffin for what seemed like an eternity, wiping away tears as the person next to him or her held the weeper’s shaking shoulders. An older gentleman with distinguished salt-and-pepper hair stood at the head of the mahogany coffin. Nicholas’s father, she guessed. Nicholas had spoken of him often enough that Lily recognized the distinct features Nicholas had described. He’d say he got his father’s chiseled jawline and big hands, while his brother got his father’s brooding attitude and broad shoulders. The memory of long nights spent in two lawn chairs with a couple of bottles of red lingered after the summer had said good-bye. Lily was sure the last bottles they’d shared were still sitting on the stable-house porch.

Standing close to the gentleman’s side was another man, quite younger. The brooding brother. Both brothers shared striking features. Nicholas’s natural hair color was dark. He’d have Lily lighten it on occasion, but it was as chocolate brown as the man’s standing by the coffin. This man was a bit taller than Nicholas, with broader shoulders, but both had the same long legs and easy stance.

Lily adjusted in her seat and crossed her ankles. Immediately remembering Tony’s instructions, she unwrapped her ankles to gently press her knees together. Her dominant might be loving, but he was also insistent she obey him at all times. Even when he wasn’t present.

She lowered her gaze before anyone could see her admiring her friend’s brother. It’s a funeral, for Christ’s sake. Couldn’t she keep her thoughts clean long enough to mourn her dear friend? She snickered, realizing Nicholas wouldn’t have minded. He’d have done the same thing, along with commenting on the atrocious outfit his aunt was wearing or how the white roses looked silly in the little cherub vase.

The way he used to talk about his boyfriends was hilarious. If his dates wore the wrong color sweater or ate like a pig on safari, he shut them down. There always seemed to be some quirk that turned him off. Every man tried too hard, robbed too much of his time. Lily admired his independence, his ability to walk away and always find acceptance in the next man. She was learning, with the help of Tony, to discover the strength within her, a courage she’d longed to claim and embrace.

She could hear Nicholas’s sweet voice, “I’m a little devil, not a little angel.”

Lily looked up as the tall, dangerously handsome man came closer. Had Nicholas told his brother about their relationship? She knew while Nicholas had lived on her property, he’d kept up correspondence with his brother. A nauseating panic filled her stomach. Did he know who she was? What would she say? Did he know the nature of her friendship with Nicholas? God he’s sexy. The way his long legs moved with a smooth and easy stride spoke of confidence, an awareness he had no one to impress. This was a man who took his sweet time whenever he pleased. A man who made her mouth water and her nipples harden, and he was walking right toward her. He was almost within reach. Lily sat on her hands with her purse resting on her lap.

“Hello.” He extended his large hand. His voice was a deep baritone, much like Tony’s.

The way his emerald gaze skimmed her face made the funny feeling in her stomach ease. She couldn’t look away from the hint of melancholy shimmering in his eyes as his smile rose with his warm greeting. An ache seethed through her. Taken aback by his size and beauty, she had an overwhelming urge to touch him. Is he real?

“Hello,” she managed to say before reaching out to shake his hand. The warmth of his palm made her fingers tingle. Safe.

“May I?” He gestured to the empty seat next to her.

Lily nodded and tried to say, “Of course,” but wasn’t sure if that was what had actually come out of her nervous mouth. She repeated the words, in case she’d looked like the idiot she felt like. “Of course.”

“So, you must be the elusive flower,” he said and leaned back in the folding chair, which was obviously too small for his height.

Lily repositioned the purse on her lap. “I’m sorry?”

“Nick’s Lily Flower. That’s what he called you.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “It is you, isn’t it? Lily Desclose—famous writer, world-renowned educator of religious history? Oh, and subject of all my brother’s letters. I’m Adam Stark.”

She scooted farther back into her chair to get a better view of him. “Yes, I guess I am. I mean, I’m a writer and religious history professor—on leave at the moment. I didn’t know Nicholas wrote letters about me.”

“My brother had quite an imagination, a real eye for beauty.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

She looked over in time to see him peeking back at her from the corner of his intense eyes. “Yes, he did.”

He returned his attention to the guests standing by the coffin. “You’re very beautiful.”

“Like you said, Nicholas had a wonderful imagination,” she said, trying to shrug off the embarrassing compliment. “He was quite lively. I rather enjoyed that about him.”

“You came a long way for this. Where are you staying tonight?”

“I’ll be heading back after the ceremony,” she said. “I’ve already booked a flight.”

“To Baton Rouge?”

“Yes, home.” He unsettled her, made her crazy libido skip up into overdrive, making each word thick and difficult to say. Even breathing became a chore with him sitting so uncomfortably close.

   “Would you mind if I came next week to go through Nick’s things?” He cleared his throat, making the masculine column ripple. “I’d like to get things wrapped up as soon as possible.” He leaned back again, stretching his legs out under the chair in front of him.

“That would be fine. You can take all the time you need.” She took a breath. “Will your father be coming with you? I know Nicholas wished he could’ve seen him more than he was able to.”

“No, he won’t. I’ll be coming alone.”

“I see.” Lily stood up, needing to create a space between them; she stepped back and brushed the creases from her skirt. “Well, Mr. Stark, I’m glad to have finally met you. I’m truly sorry for your loss and will miss Nicholas terribly.”

“Adam,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Call me Adam.” The sullen expression on his face turned downright sad. “Mr. Stark sounds so impersonal.”

“Adam, I’ve taken you from your family long enough. I’m going to freshen up and let you get back to your guests.” This time she extended her hand, hoping he wouldn’t be able to see the slight tremble that shivered through it.

He peered up from his relaxed position. “And you’re also as elusive as he said.” He stood before her, revealing his full height. For a moment she wondered how it would feel to rest her cheek against the bulk of his chest, taking in the warmth of the dark lapels of his suit jacket. He took her hand into both of his. She fought the urge to rip her hand away. “If you’ll give me your number, I’ll give you a call next week and let you know when I’ll be coming.”

“That’d be fine.” He continued to cradle her hand between his palms. She could feel the subtle trembling in her fingers begin to ease. She let go and opened her wallet. “Here’s my card.”

Copyright © Pauline Allan

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