Replay Book 7: Wing Men Read online

  Table of Contents

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Introduction

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Replay Series Cast of Characters

  Author Biography and Links

  Previous Releases

  REPLAY BOOK 7: WING MEN

  by

  Nia Farrell

  REPLAY BOOK 7: WING MEN by Nia Farrell

  Copyright 2017 by Nia Farrell

  Edited by Anita Quick

  Cover Design by Crystal Visions

  Stock Photography from pixabay.com

  Interior Layout by Anita Quick

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used without the written consent of the author, except for brief quotes in reviews. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. Such action is in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.

  Unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  First Edition August 1, 2017

  Length 20,312 words

  ASIN: B073SFW94N

  Long Branch Books

  Shattuc, Illinois

  Disclaimers

  This book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either 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.

  The use of any real company, organization, and/or product names is for literary effect only. All other trademarks and copyrights are the property of their respective owners.

  Titles

  by Nia Farrell

  SOMETHING ELSE

  (The Three Graces Book One)

  SOMETHING DIFFERENT

  (The Three Graces Book Two)

  SOMETHING MORE

  (The Three Graces Book Three)

  THE THREE GRACES TRILOGY

  (BOOKS 1-3)

  SOMETHING SPECIAL

  (The Three Graces Book Six—

  sequel to SOMETHING ELSE)

  DARK MOONS RISING

  REPLAY BOOK 1: VIKING RAID

  AS WICKED AS YOU WANT

  (FOREVER OURS BOOK 1)

  REPLAY BOOK 2: TRIPLE PLAY

  REPLAY BOOK 3: HONOUR BOUND

  REPLAY SET 1 (BOOKS 1-3)

  REPLAY BOOK 4: HOOKED

  REPLAY BOOK 5: NIGHT MUSIC

  REPLAY BOOK 6: HIGHLAND FLING

  KEEPER—THE AVENGING ANGELS MC INTRODUCTION

  FIND HER: AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 1

  WICKED LADY

  Titles

  by Nia Farrell and Jane Austen

  PRIDE AND PUNISHMENT

  An Erotic Retelling of Jane Austen’s Beloved Classic

  and by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn

  RIDE THE WIND

  TOUCH THE WIND

  REAP THE WIND

  DARE THE WIND

  Audiobooks by Nia Farrell

  SOMETHING SPECIAL

  (THE THREE GRACES BOOK 6)

  Narrated by La Petite Mort and Ruby Rivers

  REPLAY BOOK 4: HOOKED

  Narrated by La Petite Mort

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Introduction

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Replay Series Cast of Characters

  Author Biography and Links

  Previous Releases

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my many reenactor friends who help bring the past to life. One of these years, I’ll get to Rockford.

  ~ Nia

  Introduction

  Welcome to Replay, the ocean-side BDSM theme resort where patrons play in the past. The settings are museum-quality, the handcrafted garments look like originals brought forward in time, and the staff members are selected for their unique talents and abilities. Each scene that they bring to life is drawn from a page in history, but no one has to suffer through it—

  Unless that’s what they want.

  Chapter One

  Alexander Boulton was late—something that didn’t sit well with him, especially since Replay resort’s owner had cleared his schedule for him. Thankfully, Piers St. Leger would understand. His favorite cousin had flown with him often enough.

  The love of flying was not the only thing that he and Piers had in common. While they shared similar tastes in other, more intimate pursuits, most of their family members remained blissfully unaware of their natures.

  But then, most of them weren’t into historic roleplay.

  Fewer yet were in the lifestyle.

  He was met at the lobby door and ushered to Piers’s office. His cousin’s assistant, a submissive named Kitten, announced him and opened the door.

  “Alex!” Piers stepped from behind his massive wooden desk and strode toward him. Dressed in Regency clothing, he could easily have stepped out of a Jane Austen novel. “Let me look at you! How have you been? It’s been—what?—three years? It has, hasn’t it? Three years since I moved here. Tell me. Honestly. What do you think?”

  Piers shook his hand, then pulled him in for an unexpected hug. It must be marriage, thought Alex. Or the baby. He never used to be a hugger.

  “Impressive,” said Alex. “Quite so. Excellent job on the new runway. And the hangar is large enough to fit most of the planes coming in. Of course, the wingspans were smaller in 1917.”

  “Good. Good. I am delighted that you could make it. World War I weekend wouldn’t have been the same without you and your fellows. You’re the last to arrive. All save one have been safely seen to their lodgings. The other who opted to stay on site is the Russian that you told me about. Dmitry Chezhekov. He’s already seen Sir Josef and given me the paperwork required for playing at the resort. I know that you are staying with us, but I shall need yours as well, should you wish to make the most of your visit here.”

  “Certainly.” Alex opened the front of his leather aviator’s jacket, removed the documents he’d been told to complete, and handed them to his cousin. “You should already have clearance from your psychiatrist. Not knowing if the weather would cooperate, I opted to do our interview online.”

  “Yes, yes,” Piers hummed. Motioning for him to take a seat in one of the high-backed wing chairs across from the desk, Piers went to sit behind it.

  Alex fell silent, not speaking until his paperwork was approved and the non-disclosure agreement had been signed.

  “Would you like the grand tour now,” Piers asked him, “or would you like to get settled in first? Freshen up? We have the guest suite ready for you, at the far end of the house from the nursery. Our little Valentine can be quite vocal when she needs attention. Adrienne cannot stand wet diapers and still
wakes several times a night to nurse. Eleanor delayed returning to work as long as she could, but the client load is such that she felt compelled to do so. Nanny can work magic, as you know, but a bottle will never replace a mother’s breast.”

  Alex shifted uncomfortably. “I suppose not,” he said. “I was surprised that you managed to tempt Mrs. Hammersmith across the pond, with your sister still at home.”

  “Bird in the hand,” Piers said, grinning. “We had a definite need. With Tory, it’s anyone’s guess when she will settle down. Many a lesser man has tried and failed to win her favor.”

  Ah, but therein lay the problem. Victoria tended to attract shallow college boys with her looks, or calculating ones with an eye on her family’s fortune. What she needed was a man who could take her firmly in hand and give her the discipline that she craved.

  She was a born submissive, if he’d ever seen one.

  Alex started to stroke his jaw but stopped himself. Occasionally a flying creature made it past the windscreen of his Sopwith Camel and met its end upon impact with his face. At times, his goggles were speckled with them.

  “I believe that I would like to get cleaned up first, if you don’t mind. It was an early morning and a long flight in.”

  “Yes. Well.” Piers rose from his desk chair. “Let’s get you settled, then.”

  The St. Leger estate was adjacent to Replay, the BDSM theme resort that Piers had built from a dream and continued to expand. At his cousin’s manor house, Alex was as delighted to see Nanny—the implacable Mrs. Beatrice Hammersmith—as she was to see him. He declined the offer to look in on the sleeping baby, born six-and-a-half weeks earlier on February the fourteenth, until he’d had a shower.

  In a departure from the period-inspired guest rooms, his suite was contemporary in design, boasting a California king-size bed. The sitting area had modern leather furniture, built in a style that would lend itself well to kink. The en-suite was spa-like, with a large, jetted tub. The steam shower was constructed of the finest marble and sized to easily accommodate a foursome, with two long teak benches, body jets, and rain showerheads, in addition to the steam bath setting.

  Rather than make Piers wait, he opted for a quick shower, scrubbing the grime from his face and the dried sweat from his body. The above-average temperatures today and tomorrow were noticeably hotter than what he’d left behind in Ohio.

  Piers assured him that there was time enough before dinner for a tour of the resort. From the passenger seat of Piers’s Range Rover, Alex was treated to views of thatched-roof cottages, pioneer log cabins, a Sioux Indian village, a small cluster of wooden-framed buildings that looked like the American Wild West, an antebellum plantation house, and a stately brick Georgian home that would have fit perfectly in Colonial Williamsburg. The latest feature under construction was a Roman villa, with an arena where gladiators would vie for dominance.

  “I suspect that you’ll be most impressed with the ship anchored in Pirates’ Cove,” Piers told him. “But that needs must wait. Eleanor is due back any time, and I must see how she fares. She may require a nap before our dinner guests arrive.”

  Alex cocked a brow and shot his cousin a look. The man loved to play matchmaker. God knew whom he would be paired with tonight.

  As if sensing his unease, Piers smiled reassuringly. “You know Sir Josef, of course. He will be there with his partners, Luc Vashon and Aubrey Wolfe. Just so you know, Aubrey is visually challenged, not totally blind but very close to it. She’s a gifted classical pianist who does a first-person impression of Mozart. Also joining us will be Jannet MacDonald and her Dominant, Ian McGregor, the architect who built our home. Jannet and Aubrey were schoolmates at Juilliard. Jannet studied dance. Aubrey had a scholarship for piano. Rounding out the party is a surprise guest. Lara Eastman is one of the vocalists who will be performing this weekend. She is a former schoolmate of Aubrey and Jannet’s, neither of whom have seen her since their days at Juilliard. Neither one knows that she is coming, and vice versa. Judging from my interview with Miss Eastman, I believe that it will be a pleasant reunion. I sincerely hope so. Eleanor will be disappointed if it is not. When she learned that the three women went to school together, she insisted on reconnecting them, outside of the scenes this weekend.”

  Upon hearing that it was Eleanor’s doing, not Piers’s, Alex released the breath that he’d been holding. “I hope so, too,” he said sincerely. “I’m afraid I’m not much at making table talk. I prefer to listen.”

  And watch, but that was a kink better suited for Piers’s playroom than the dining room…unless dessert included food play and willing partners.

  His cousin knew him well enough to add, “Another note. Although I am certain that you will recognize her as such, Miss Eastman is naturally submissive, clearly untrained and possibly unaware of her nature. She has no intention of joining the scenes after her performances and has not been vetted for play at the resort, beyond the standard security screening. Here, of course, she will be on private property and not subject to the stringent safeguards we would use, even if they were not required for insurance purposes.”

  “I have no designs upon your special guest,” Alex assured him. “I plan to enjoy dinner and retire early. Tomorrow is a big day.”

  “Indeed. Three rounds of mock aerial combat and the canteen scene tomorrow night, on the eve of the one-hundredth anniversary of President Wilson’s appearance before Congress, extolling them to enter the war. We are also commemorating “bloody April,” when British squadrons suffered four times the losses at the hands of the Germans. It is our first centennial event—a rare opportunity to visit the recent past.”

  “Yes,” Alex agreed. “I started out doing World War II events. Reenactments of the Great War are just now being added to our schedule, including one next weekend at Rockford, Illinois. We’ve done their World War II reenactments in the fall. I trust that their April World War I events—and yours—are as successful.”

  “I can only assure you that here, no expense has been spared,” Piers told him, “from building the airfield to booking the entertainment. The only thing beyond our control is the weather, but according to the forecast, it should cooperate both days and allow you and your fellows to execute your aerial choreography? Man and machine, locked in a deadly dance. Tell me, do you win or lose tomorrow?”

  Alex knew his schedule as well as his battle plans. “I win in the morning. Lose late afternoon. The Lafayette Escadrille will fly against the Germans at 1 pm. I’ll sit that one out and remain on the ground as an observer.”

  Which is exactly what he planned to be tonight. Listening to three women catch up on the years they’ve been apart would either prove boring as hell or extraordinarily fascinating.

  He hoped it was the latter.

  Chapter Two

  Alex was in the nursery with Mrs. Hammersmith and little Adrienne Elizabeth St. Leger when Piers’s guests began to arrive. The darling of her father’s eye looked just like her mother, from the thin wisps of copper hair to quicksilver gray eyes that seemed far too old for one so young.

  Gently extricating his finger from the baby’s grip, he carefully handed her back to Mrs. Hammersmith and excused himself to join the rest of the adults for dinner.

  Downstairs, Sir Josef introduced his partners. Luc Vashon was French Canadian, a beautiful man with café au lait skin and of mixed black, white, and Native American ancestry. Aubrey Wolfe was a tiny thing, barely five feet tall with misbehaving hair and two very protective Doms who were devoted to her.

  Next to arrive were Ian McGregor and Jannet MacDonald. From the exchange with Eleanor, Alex understood that Jannet and Ian would be trying for a baby at some point. Everyone was ushered into the den for drinks and conversation whilst they waited for the last guest to come. It was nearly seven o’clock when the doorbell rang, announcing her arrival.

  Curious, Alex followed Piers and his lovely wife to the entrance. Standing at the back of the three-story foyer, he watched as the door sw
ung open wide. A puff of wind seemed to blow Miss Eastman in like a dandelion seed, ethereally lovely and a wonder to behold.

  She was perfection, from the top of her red head to the black high heels that added another four inches to her five-feet-four-inch height, bringing her closer to his seventy-inch frame. Her black sheath dress hugged the swell of her breasts, the neat dip of her waist, and the tempting curve of her hips. She pushed the long, loose ginger curls away from her face and stepped further inside, exchanging greetings with their hosts, her brilliant green eyes darting nervously until they met his.

  She paused, midsentence, stunned into silence. He knew what she was thinking. It wasn’t the first time someone had noted his resemblance to a younger Jude Law, and it wouldn’t be the last.

  Caught staring, she quickly diverted her gaze back to Eleanor. But her curiosity was aroused, and she couldn’t resist sneaking another glance his way.

  Encouraged, he came forward and waited for Piers to perform the introductions.

  “Miss Eastman, may I present my cousin, Alexander Boulton? Alex is one of the pilots who will be demonstrating aerial combat this weekend,” Piers added.

  She looked at him, then, tentative, relaxing only when he offered her a half smile and a nod of approval.

  “Alex, this is Miss Lara Eastman, whose lilting voice shall entertain the troops tomorrow evening. She is a music historian and does a number of first person impressions, do you not?

  “Yes,” she said, brightening. “I do Nora Bayes for World War I, Vera Lynn for World War II, Lillie Langtry at Wild West events, and Jenny Lind at Civil War venues.”

  “Impressive,” Alex observed. And it was. That was quite a range of musical eras and styles. He couldn’t imagine performing that many songs from memory. “Your repertoire must be extensive.”

  “It is,” she agreed, blushing becomingly. “And still, I keep looking, hoping to find that one piece that history has forgotten.”