Sage was moving the toy in and out as she rubbed her clit. A man who knew what he was doing would be able to thrust in a such a way, he’d hit her clit with every surge forward. She closed her eyes, throwing her head back, panting as her muscles stiffened in anticipation of her impending orgasm, moving the vibrator in and out at an increased pace as her climax washed over her. Sage took a deep breath and relaxed. She needed more. She needed a man who could and would ride her hard and long… and often, making her come repeatedly before emptying himself into her as she writhed beneath him.
“Sometimes, Roark, I wish you were real,” she sighed, placing the vibrator on the nightstand.
Sage woke the next morning completely and utterly refreshed. She had a breakfast this morning with readers, a panel discussion, then the actual signing. She looked in the closet and laughed. Gail had packed her outfits for today in a garment bag labeled “Breakfast and Panel,” “Signing,” and a last one marked “Drive Home.” She must think Sage was the most incompetent, unfashionable person in the world. She wasn’t that far off the mark. It wasn’t that she didn’t know, but for the most part, she just didn’t care.
Since she’d started making good money, she had indulged her love of gorgeous lingerie and corsets—expensive, handmade corsets. There was a place in London, very exclusive, she would love to visit. The problem was they catered to Doms, even though the corsets, thongs and other fet wear were meant for submissives. She was neither submissive nor in a relationship with any kind of Dom. She wrote about alpha males and dominant men but had never experienced either. She had tried to get Derek to go to one of the kink clubs in D.C. or try something outside of pure vanilla sex, but he had been adamantly opposed. She wondered if he still had those objections given that his new fiancée, Gwen, was one of her most avid readers.
Breakfast was fun once everyone calmed down about the incident the night before. Sage had followed the hotel and Gail’s lead and passed it off as just drunken teenagers out on a lark. She was sponsoring the breakfast, so she had arranged small gift bags of swag to be at the place setting of each of those attending. Sage tried to include things that people would find useful—eyeglass wipes, pens, coasters, can koozies, and the like. She had also overridden Gail’s plan for an enhanced continental breakfast, opting for a full buffet.
“I thought we agreed to go with the cheaper option,” Gail hissed under her breath. “And where did all these swag bags come from?”
“I wanted something better for breakfast. I arranged for the swag bags weeks ago and had them delivered here. Lighten up, Gail… it’s not like you’re paying for it. This gets deducted after I calculate your percentage.”
At the end of the breakfast, she stood and announced, “Everybody should have received a small gift at their place setting. At each table, I randomly placed a bag marked Winner. If you have the winning swag bag… stand up.”
When each of the winners stood, Sage clapped her hands, and hotel staff brought in a gift basket for each of them. She was glad she’d reminded Gail this kind of thing didn’t come out of her percentage… otherwise, Gail might have fetched them back.
“It looks like there is a forty-five-minute break until the panel starts in the room right across the hall,” she announced.
“Sage? Will you be available for pictures between now and then?” called an attendee.
“Always! There’s a beautiful little courtyard right outside these French doors. Anyone who wants to, let’s go outside.” She moved toward the exit. Seeing the size of the crowd, she added, “Anyone who doesn’t get a picture now will have a chance after the panel or after the signing.”
She smiled as she heard people calling their thanks. Sage tried to do everything she could to ensure her readers had a good time at events. She really didn’t understand those who didn’t. She understood that for some authors, these kinds of events were like pulling teeth, but others, in her opinion, had become too impressed with themselves to be bothered. Sage vowed never to be like them.
The combination of sunshine, fresh air, and her readers’ company and good cheer had completely banished the darkness from the night before. Sage entered the room for the panel discussion with her readers right before it was due to start and rushed up onto the raised dais.
Norma Sue Riley had been the queen of erotic romance before Sage had showed up on the scene and resented that Sage’s sales made hers seem paltry in comparison.
“Finally decide to join us, Sage?” Norma Sue asked with more than a bit of venom in her tone. “I’m afraid the only seat left is the one on the end.”
Sage and Norma Sue were not friends, and Sage was fairly sure Norma Sue had arranged for her to sit at the far end of the stage.
“That’s alright, Norma Sue—some of us don’t need to be center stage to let our light shine,” she responded brightly.
Some of the other panelists tried to cover their laugher, while others, as well as those in the audience, didn’t.
“This question is for Sage. Sage, who was your inspiration for Roark, and as a follow-up, if he existed, would you fuck him?”
Sage laughed. “Follow-up first… absolutely and repeatedly.” More laughter. “I guess Roark is a kind of amalgamation of a lot of the spies and detectives from movies of the past, but he’s always been his own unique person. He just stepped forward one day and began telling me his story.”
“Sage, how long did it take for your career to take
