Lacey Johnson’s best friend just got married, and Lacey’s feeling left behind. She needs an adventure, something to take her mind off her feelings of envy and loneliness.  Be careful what you wish for…

the devil and ms. johnson


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COPYRIGHT © 2023 solitary vice publications

The sequel to Jane and the Sneaky Dom, this was a really fun story to write. I knew I wanted to make it a little more suspenseful than Jane, and since I grew up in Michigan I thought it would be fun to visit though the characters again. Mackinac Island was one of my favorite spots as a child (it’s the fudge), and I thought the fact that there are no cars allowed on the island would make the plot more interesting. 

For this story I had to research handguns (confusing), and I had to try to remember my sailing words. Spending a few summers on a friend’s boat gave me enough knowledge to recognize most of the parts of a sailboat, but damned if I knew what their actual names were. And somehow I didn’t think saying “rubber bumper thingy” and “winding thing that raises the sail” would do it.

behind the book

“Come on,” he cajoled. “Tell me a fantasy. It’s the least you can do after kicking my ass.”

“Nope, can’t do it. Wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“Oh?” He raised one tawny brow in question.

She sniffed. “I’d just end up taking horrible advantage of you.”

“How do you figure that?”

She shrugged. “I’d tell you my fantasies, then you’d want to go to bed with me, and you already said you didn’t want to.”

“Not true.” He held up a finger. “I said I can’t sleep with you, not that I didn’t want to.”

She rolled her eyes. “Semantics. The result is the same.”

“Besides,” he continued. “I’m not that easily seduced. So I really doubt you could do it just by telling me a fantasy.”

“Oh, honey.” She looked at him with pity. “You have no idea the power I wield.”

He grinned at her, obviously entertained, and she felt herself go light headed again. That smile was lethal. 
“You a gambling kind of woman, Lacey Johnson?”

She narrowed her eyes slightly. She loved to gamble, it was her favorite recreational activity. But he was up to something. “Depends on the bet.”

He nodded, angling his body in the narrow kitchen chair to dig into one of his front pockets. He pulled out a money clip and peeled off a couple of bills, tossing them on the table. “A hundred bucks says you can’t seduce me.”

Lacey starred at the money on the table and didn’t know if she should be amused or offended. She looked at him. “You’re nuts.”

He shrugged, pure devilment dancing in his eyes. “You’re so confident in the “power that you wield”, take the bet. If you don’t,” he spread his hands, “I’ll have to assume you’re all talk.”

She crossed her arms and stared at him through narrowed eyes. “Honey, I could make you forget your own name.”

“Then prove it. Put your money where your mouth is. Unless, of course…”

Lacey knew she shouldn’t ask, but she did it anyway. “Unless what, chicken butt?”

He shrugged. “Unless you’re scared.”

“Ok, little man, you’re on.” She dipped into the bodice of her dress.

“Little man?” he asked, watching her hand disappear into her cleavage. “Baby, if you win this bet you’ll find out different. What are you doing?”

“Looking for…dammit!” she muttered and slid her other hand into her dress. After a few seconds of fishing around, she let out a triumphant “Ah-ha!” and held up her hand, displaying a fistful of cash.

“You always keep cash in your cleavage?” he asked, watching her uncrumple the wad of bills.

“I had to tip the caterers,” she said absently, counting. “Sixty, eighty, one hundred. There.” She strode over to the table and slapped five wilted twenties on top of his two crisp fifties. “Bet.”

Devon grinned. “So. Seduce me.”

Lacey held up a hand. “Slow down, quick draw. What’re the rules?”

He shrugged. “Rules are you have to seduce me.”

“Doy. But what constitutes a seduction?”

“Well,” he said, “you have to convince me to do what I’ve already said I don’t want to do, which is sleep with you.”

“You didn’t say you didn’t want to sleep with me, you said you couldn’t.”

“Touché,” he grinned at her. “You have to convince me to do what I said I couldn’t do.”

“Okay.” She nodded, bouncing on her toes like a prize fighter stepping into the ring. “Any restrictions?”

“You can’t touch me,” he decided. “And you have to tell at least one fantasy.”

“Doy,” she muttered. “Is that it?”

“That’s it.” He spread his arms wide, smiling smugly. “Do your worst.”

“I have to tell a fantasy?” she asked. When he nodded, she smiled. “Okay. Well, Jane planned the wedding with her mother, you know.”

He frowned. “If this is how your fantasies start, you’re so losing that hundred bucks.”

“Bear with me. As maid of honor,” she jerked a thumb at herself, “I had to sit in on most of the wedding plans. Now, I don’t know how much you know about mothers and daughters and weddings, but there was bickering. Lots of it. Especially when Mrs. D wanted salmon croquets and Jane wanted asparagus wrapped in prosciutto. Or when Mrs. D wanted herb roasted squab, and Jane wanted prime rib. Or when-“

“I get it.” Devon held up a hand to halt the litany. “They butted heads. I think I’ll buy tickets to the Blackhawks game with your money.”

“I’ll loan you my season seats,” she said. “So, when they’d start in on the appetizers or what have you, I’d just kind of tune them out and distract myself. And since we did most of these brain-storming sessions in Ian’s office, the most distracting thing in the room was the picture of you.”

Devon frowned in surprise. “Ian has a picture of me in his office?”

“Yeah, you and he in some jungle setting, all decked out in fatigues and grinning like a couple goobers.”
Devon stared at her. “Goobers?”

“Yeah. And you had face paint, I guess to match the outfits or whatever. So whenever Jane and her mom would get into it, I’d get into you.”

“Well, now we’re getting to the good part,” he said, twisting the chair around so he could face her and stretch his legs out. “Took you long enough.”

“I’m just getting started. So, I was having all these fantasies, and ….”


“I wasn’t wearing this much clothing in them.” With that, she reached for the hidden seam in the side of the dress, flicked the zipper down and let the dress fall. She smiled as his eyes went blank and his jaw went slack.

She gave brief mental thanks to Jane’s mother, who had insisted on the gravity defying strapless bra that was currently holding her breasts to her chin and Devon’s attention. The skimpy g-string she thanked herself for. “I have this showerhead,” she said conversationally.

Devon swallowed audibly. “Showerhead?” he echoed.

“Hmmm.” She reached behind her and almost nonchalantly unclipped the bra. It slipped free, landing in the puddle of pink satin already on the floor.

“So,” she continued. “This showerhead. It’s got seven different settings, hand held. I’ve had it since college. I call it Raul.”

“Raul,” he said, still starring at her bare breasts. The apartment was comfortably warm, but excitement had her nipples tightening and Devon was all but drooling at the sight. “Um…why?”

“Why do I call him Raul?” She watched him nod, not taking his eyes off her chest. She smiled. “Well, considering what he does for me, not giving him a name would just be so…impersonal.”

That got his attention. “Yeah? What does Raul do for you?”

“Oh, he’s sort of my all purpose man substitute, if you know what I mean.” Lacey hooked her thumbs in the thin strings on her hips, toying with them while he watched.

“So anyway, I’d be tuning Jane and her mother out, concentrating on that picture of you, and then I’d go home to my lonely, empty bed. And I’d be tense. I have trouble sleeping when I’m tense, do you ever have that problem?” She inched the panties down her hips.

“Gnog,” he said, completely focused on the descent of that tiny scrap of black silk. She decided to take that as a yes.

“So when I’m tense, and can’t sleep, I usually take a nice hot shower to help me relax.” She smiled and shimmied the rest of the way out of her panties.

She stood in her best friend’s kitchen, naked as a jaybird, knowing she looked pretty damn good. Spinning and weight lifting, while torturous and evil, nevertheless helped her maintain a trim and taut physique, despite her somewhat adolescent eating habits. Sometime around her mid twenties, she realized that her metabolism had started to change, and it was either workout regularly or give up Cheetos and sticky buns. Since she had no intention of switching to veggies and tofu, she put in enough hours at the gym to keep everything firm and where it was supposed to be.

And from the way he was staring, slack-jawed, she figured it was all worth it. She skimmed her hands over her own skin, up her torso, over the rise of her breasts, and hummed a little sound desire in the back of her throat.
“But a hot shower usually isn’t enough to make all the tension go away.” She stroked her palms back down, sliding them over her hips, circling around to her belly. She tickled her fingers against the bare flesh of her pussy, pulling his eyes there like a lodestone. She knew in the harsh light of the kitchen there was no way he could miss the dampness that coated her flesh.

“ uh…what makes the tension go away?”

She allowed herself a humming chuckle at the hoarse quality of his voice. “Well, I’m a big believer in natural stress relief. Like endorphins.”


“Mmmmm,” she purred, still idly stroking her fingers along the damp flesh of her pussy. The look in his eyes combined with the thrill of touching herself in front of him was getting her pretty worked up. 

He managed to tear his eyes away from the juncture of her thighs to look at her face, and the wild light in his eyes kicked her heart rate into high gear. “So how do you get endorphins?”

“Exercise, of course. Although, since I don’t have any gym equipment in the apartment, and my gym isn’t open 24 hours, sometimes it’s hard to work up a good sweat. But Raul, he’s great with endorphins.”

She was dragging her fingers back up the sleek plane of her torso now, leaving a damp trail of her own juice over her skin. She saw him swallow hard, licking his lips, and couldn’t suppress a shudder of her own at the thought of his mouth on her.

With an effort, she pulled her mind back to the task of seduction. “So Raul. Did I mention he has seven different settings?” He nodded, eyes still glued to her fingers. They were now toying lightly with her breasts, just brushing over the bottom curve and up across the turgid nipple. “And did I mention? My favorite setting is ‘pulse’,” she whispered.

His eyes were glued to both her hands now as she brought them together over her pussy. “And when I put him right here,” she fluttered her fingers, “and put the setting on ‘pulse’,” she fluttered her fingers, mimicking the rapid beat of the shower head. She moaned slightly, her eyes closing as the little sparks of arousal turning into lightning bolts as she drummed her fingers on her clit.

“When I do that,” she continued, her voice thick now with strain and lust, “the tension just seems to drift away.”

She panted, slightly out of breath, and opened her eyes to look at him. His eyes were riveted on her hands, his breath coming in harsh pants and tension in every line of his body despite his slouched posture in the chair. She raised one eyebrow at the very definite bulge in his jeans.

“Well,” she said in as normal a tone as she could manage. “That ought to do it, I think.”

She took two strides and, reaching past him, picked the money up from the table. She was careful not to brush her breasts against him, so as not to violate the rules of the bet. She saw him inhale sharply, picking up the scent of her skin, heated by her arousal. She straightened, bringing her fingers, coated with her own fragrant moisture, within inches of his nose, and folded the bills in half. She turned on her bare heel and walked away, feeling his eyes on her like a physical stroke. She stopped at the doorway, cast a look over her shoulder. 

“I’m a little tense, Devon. Do you have any endorphins you could lend me?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, but turned and sauntered down the hall to the bedroom. Lacey could feel his eyes boring into her back as she walked and could barely contain her excitement. And when she heard his chair scrape back and his footsteps following her, she smiled in triumph and anticipation.


The Devil and Ms. Johnson  is available in KU!
Best Friends Book 2

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