Don’t Let Go
Darkest Desires #1
by Lynn Burke
Publisher: Changeling Press
Keywords: BDSM, Silver Fox, MayDecember, EroticRomance, FemDom, Domme, Contemporary, Novella, Series
Troy Jenner’s ex called his desire to be dominated sick. Divorced, shamed, and stripped bare of his assets, Troy is gifted a three day pass to Monique’s, Baltimore’s elite sex club. He hopes to discover the depths of his desires, not fall for the Domme with a turbulent past in her eyes.
Barista by day, Mistress by night, Jaycie Atkins is the Domme assigned to fulfill submissive’s fantasies of pain with pleasure. To conquer her childhood trauma, she learned to be powerful and prudent. Always giving, never receiving. Always in control -- until Troy’s grateful groans after every whip of her flogger threaten to slip past her Domme defenses. The warmth in his eyes tempting her to trust him like no other.
Will Troy’s patience and persistence in breaking down her walls pay off, or will he be forced to accept the fact Mistress will never let go and give him the collar and second chance at love he longs for?
PURCHASE LINKS:
Changeling Press: https://www.changelingpress.com/don-t-let-go-darkest-desires-1-b-2751
EXCERPT:
I knelt in the middle of the
dungeon-like room as I’d seen on the countless BDSM websites I’d been studying
the past month, exactly like they’d shown us new subs at the introduction class
the evening before. Butt naked, dick already at half-mast because I finally had
the chance to explore the darkness inside of me that had killed my ten-year
marriage.
As CEO of a prominent
software company, I took pride in my self-control and stoic nature. Being a
bastard had gotten me up the rung to where I sat comfortably behind a glass
desk with windows overlooking Baltimore’s skyline. It had also earned me a
nasty divorce a year earlier when my ex-wife took over half of what we owned,
leaving me with a broken heart and near-empty bank accounts. At least a
constant work load since then had gotten me closer to where I’d been before
she’d attempted to wipe me out.
I studied my hands resting on
my bare thighs. Springy hair tickled my palms. While the hair on my body
remained a dark blond, the previous two years of hell had shot gray through the
thick strands on my head and the scruff I couldn’t keep from lining my jaw.
Forty-three and already
fucking gray. Wouldn’t help my chance at dating -- if I ever got the balls to
put myself out there again. I’d been celibate for over a year. Dead inside,
unable to give two shits about anything but work, unable to get it up, too. I
also didn’t have the energy to get involved, let alone think of dating.
Familiar exhaustion tugged on
my eyelids, and I let them close while waiting for the Domme the club’s owner
had booked me with for the night -- Mistress Jaycie. A woman I’d never met, a
woman I was going to let control me in whatever way she wanted.
Time to give over. Time to
explore my lust for pain and hopefully float into that mysterious subspace I’d
been reading about.
My dick twitched at the
thought of pure, empty-headed euphoria.
Would the Domme I’d been
paired with have a heavy hand? Would she be beautiful? Did I even care? I just
wanted -- craved -- submission, the type that would erase the shit in my mind
for a while and maybe get my rocks off.
My ex had been vanilla, same
as I’d always been, and when I got the urge to introduce something new in the
bedroom, she’d looked at me with disgust. Hell, I’d only suggested handcuffs
and ropes, hoping she’d agree so we could eventually move on to what I really
wanted.
No such fucking luck.
I breathed deep and exhaled
my thoughts along with the lungful of used-up air. The silence coating the dim,
private scening room at Monique’s club in downtown Baltimore soothed me. Even
if it turned out the BDSM lifestyle wasn’t for me, I’d at least have gotten to
experience a semi-hard dick again.
A click sounded as the door
opened, and I kept my head and gaze lowered as I’d been instructed in the
class. Awareness crept over my skin like an electrical charge as heels clicked
on hardwood. My heartbeat accelerated. The subtle scent of oranges hit my nose
as black leather stiletto boots came into my line of sight.
Hot as fuck. I bit back my groan as my
cock thickened. I swallowed against sudden nervousness, something I hadn’t
experienced since my teenage years.
“Hmm…” she murmured. The
boots rounded to my left, disappearing in my periphery. “On your feet, slave.”
Her low, husky voice prickled my skin, bringing my dick to full attention.
I rose with as much grace as
I could, hands at my sides, erection sticking up close to my navel.
A soft inhale tickled my ears
as I straightened completely.
I knew what she saw -- what
she probably didn’t expect for a man teetering on the brink of the downslope
from his prime. Daily yoga, running, and weight training kept my body looking
the same as it had at twenty-five.
Something tailed down my
backbone and across the top of my ass cheeks, lacking the warmth of skin. Crop?
Cane? The urge to know made me want to shift my stance, but I held still.
She rounded to the right and
stopped in front of me.
From my height, most of her
body came into view even though I kept my head lowered. The black leather of
her boots hugged defined calves, stopping just above her knees. A good twelve
inches of smooth, pale skin gave way to a tight leather skirt -- also black --
over flared hips, ending at her tiny waist. She held a crop in her right hand.
My dick actually jumped,
bumping my abs.
I glanced up through my
lashes, filling my eyes with the corset-cinched tits threatening to spill over
the top. The milky-white globes set my mouth to watering.
“You will call me Mistress.”
© Lynn Burke 2018
ABOUT LYNN BURKE:
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
2 comments:
Thank you so much for hosting me today! xoxo
You're very welcome, Lynn.
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