Lovely Paranormal Books
Love, Life and Booklust
Patricia Marques Writing
CD Yess Writes
JJs Kinky Books
Boom Baby Reviews
Books and Banter
Not all who wander are lost...
Tabitha LeCaire searches the kink clubs in San Francisco for the Dom who can push her limits, yet still appreciate the finer points of manners and grace, which she’s worked so hard to master. When a friend introduces her to a mysterious masked man, Tabitha thinks she may have finally found her match and eagerly accepts his collar. But she may have made a mistake—as they say, marry in haste, repent in leisure.
Self-made businessman Nathan Battle loves his new little sub. But he can’t let her know that. Pushing her to forget her proper manners, he offers her a collar, hoping to keep her subservient to his needs. For now. Because Nathan doesn’t do relationships.
Until family issues demand he return home, and he realizes he doesn’t want to go without his little slave. And when his mother falls in love with Tabitha, and his brother starts making eyes at her as well, things can only go from bad to worse. Until they hit rock bottom when he finds his brother and his little slave in bed...
Reader Note: contains BDSM, spanking, BBW heroine, wax play, dominance and submission, and strong erotic romance elements
For most people, a phone call at five a.m. would be a cause for worry. Is someone hurt, in jail, or worse? As for me, I get excited every time my phone rings, no matter the hour. I roll over to my side and grab my vibrating phone. I hold it up in the dark to see the name on the ID. Just seeing his name is enough to make my panties wet. I sit up quickly and place the phone to my ear.
“Yes, sir?” I rub at my sleepy eyes and slip from the comfort of my bed. He never calls unless he needs me.
“My office. Now.” That’s all his dark voice utters before he ends the phone call. His office is downtown, so I have no time to waste. I jump in the shower; the water hasn’t even had a chance to heat up before I run a razor over my legs. He likes every inch of me to be smooth. My hands slip in the soap foaming and bubbling over my skin. Chill bumps rise under my fingers as my mind begins to wonder what he has planned for me.
Knowing he will tear away whatever panties I put on, I forgo them and slip into my pencil skirt. I tuck in a button-up blouse that will offer him a glance at my lush cleavage as soon as I enter the room. The thin white fabric does nothing to hide my hardening nipples. I could blame the peaks on the cold shower, but we all know better than that. My nipples are begging for his touch, for his tongue to trace the edges of my areolas and for his teeth to sink into the hardened nubs until I whimper for mercy. Mercy only he can give me, if he is so inclined. By the tone in his voice, I don’t imagine he is in a very giving mood.
Once in my car, I jab the accelerator, which feels awkward under my stiletto, and glance at my watch. Five twenty a.m. He is either having a very late night or a stupid early morning. I steer the car toward his big office building and pray he understands I did my best to hurry.
I run my fingers through my still-damp hair and sigh. He won’t be happy that I didn’t blow-dry it. He hates when I tempt fate and wear my hair wet in the chilly morning air. Rolling down both the windows, I ruffle my fingers through my locks and hope the air current will help speed up the drying process.
I pull into the parking garage and smile to myself when hardly any cars are in the lot. I’ll have him to myself. No secretary waiting outside his door, making me avoid screaming out my pleasure. I hate keeping it all bottled inside when he torments my body. No coworkers to smirk and chuckle as I exit his office, looking like a hot mess. I enjoy when it’s just us, but when those people are around, I feel only pride when I leave him. Their stares and judgmental giggles can’t take away the peace he offers me. My phone chimes.
“Where are you?” I can’t decipher his mood through text.
“The elevator, sir.” I press the button for the sixteenth floor. The ride up feels like a lifetime.
The doors open and I step out onto the marble that will lead me to him. At the end of the hall, his office doors are open. They are never left open, and this makes my belly tighten.
I stop at the plush carpet at the doorway and lower to my knees with grace, a talent one achieves only with much practice. The tightness of my skirt doesn’t allow me to part my knees like I am supposed to. I worry my lip between my teeth. Why did I choose this skirt? There isn’t anything I can do about it now. I slip my arms behind my back and tangle my fingers together.
His fingers fly over his keyboard. The sound echoes throughout the empty space. His office is large and masculine, like him. His bulky desk fills the center of the room, a brown leather couch sits to the right, and a wall of windows spans behind him. He is working in the dark. The city behind him is slowly waking up, and the skyline twinkles with the coming sun.
“Strip,” he says without looking at me. His laptop screen illuminates the hard planes of his face, his expression offering me no indication of his mood. This mask of his drives me wild.
J. Richards is a twenty six year old mother and wife. She was born in a small town in New Hampshire, which she left at the age of eighteen to marry the love of her life. Leaving everything and everyone she had ever known to live down south with her new husband. They have now been married for almost eight years and are raising a wild child of a daughter. Her husband is in the military and because of that, they have shared the joys and struggles of moving around the country.
J. Richards has always loved reading and writing, dreams of becoming a published author seemed just that, only dreams. In 2015, with encouragement from a friend, she submitted a short story to etopia press and was beyond surprised when they wished to publish it. She now has four works under contract and a very hot series in the making.