PERFECT is filled with some firsts – for me as well as the characters. It’s a second chance story featuring domestic discipline, some edge play, and other surprises. But I promise a happy-ever-after ending. Story excerpt below.
Sometimes the perfect man is the one who’s most forbidden.
After her husband’s death, Isabella Santos fled Washington and its bruising memories. But estate matters force her to return and fate gives her a chance to connect with a man she’d always secretly longed to call Master—Mark, the brother of her late husband.
Mark, retired from his black ops career, grabs the second chance Isabella’s sudden appearance in D.C. presents. He’s never forgiven his late brother’s neglect of Isabella, a woman he’s loved from afar for ten years. Now reunited, he’s determined to earn her heart and submission.
As their forbidden love blooms, they forge a perfect domestic discipline life that provides a feeling of oneness, completion and a healing of wounds neither knew they had. But her family’s opposition and demons from her husband’s past have different ideas. In the end, Mark must become more than her Master. He must use all his training and skills to become her savior.
Excerpt from PERFECT, an Elite Doms of Washington erotic romance
When Isabella entered the Library, her spine snapped straight. Mark sat in a tall-backed, velvet chair. His arms draped casually over the armrests like a king settled into his throne. He didn’t turn when they entered. His focus remained on a nude, statuesque redhead who lay face-up on a table.
“Who is that woman?” Isabella had to know.
“It’s not what you think, Isabella. Charlotte is under his protection.” Alexander understood her unspoken question. Why is he with her?
A dark-haired man peered down at the porcelain-skinned woman. Her fiery hair and lush figure left Isabella feeling small and ordinary, like a daisy to a bird of paradise bloom.
The man turned, dipped two cotton-tipped wands into a shallow dish and then waved them over a pillar candle igniting their ends.
Alexander’s arm descended on her shoulders. “You’ve seen fire play before?”
“Yes. I’m not—”
“Fond of fire. Do you wish to leave?”
“No.” She jerked her gaze to his face.
Alexander cocked his head at her vehement tone.
“I mean, I’d like to stay. Thank you.”
While she wasn’t a fan of edge play, no one else seemed alarmed. Rather, they appeared riveted by the scene unfolding before them. She wouldn’t flee like a coward. Instead, she’d simply channel the courage Mark displayed.
The other Master’s face glowed in the amber light as he waved the fire sticks over the woman’s body as if preparing her for a fiery impact. “Charlotte,” he growled.
The redhead’s lips moved in response. “Master.”
The one word ran through Isabella like a storm. She flushed. Why did she feel her presence interrupted a private moment? Even surrounded by two dozen people, she sensed the Master, the woman and Mark had secreted to a private world.
The dark-haired Master drummed the wands of fire up the woman’s belly to her breasts. She arched into the flames! Why?
The woman turned her eyes to Mark and sent him a contented smile. The side of his mouth arched up, and he dipped his chin in acknowledgment. Her face softened with a palpable gratitude.
The other man smoothed hair from her dampened forehead while tapping one breast lightly with the lit wand. Her mouth dropped to an “O” and she arched again toward the flame. The Master glanced up at Mark, who had leaned forward in his chair, his gaze sharpening on the woman’s reaction. The other Master caught Mark’s glance and stilled. Mark nodded and the man resumed his actions.
Isabella’s stomach flipped over. There was no way this was not what she thought. Mark most certainly was with this statuesque firewoman. Though the other Master held the fire, Mark’s command of the scene was unquestionable.
“Why is he . . . ?” Her breath hitched.
“Mark is introducing Charlotte and Master R to fire play. It’s her first time.”
As if that made it okay?
Mark leaned back into his chair. His fingers relaxed over the ends of the armchairs. Even from the side, she caught the tiny flashes of firelight glinting in his eyes.
Again, more swipes of the fiery wands captured her attention. They made soft yet sharp sounds, like freshly laundered sheets flapping in the wind.
In her periphery, she was aware that the five or six people, who milled a respectful distance away, had shifted and separated. Couples leaned into one another, as if they’d grown embroiled in the intimacy woven between Mark, the other Master and Charlotte.
She tuned into her body. An undeniable feminine ache settled between her legs. Well, her response to the scene was merely the Club’s atmosphere. Accendos’s very air hung heavy with contagious, sexual arousal.
She shifted her focus to the woman now glowing in a sheen of perspiration. The fire matched the red in her hair, and she seemed to grow almost liquid in her undulations.
Mark’s consideration remained on Charlotte squirming under the attention of two Masters. Charlotte. The name sounded soft, pliable and pleasing, yet it meant “strength.” It was a name given to royalty—to duchesses and princesses.
Princess Charlotte gasped. Mark sat back, as if released from her behest that he provide her his full and undivided attention.
An orange flicker flashed across the woman’s chest and earned a throaty sigh from her throat. The Master then drummed the wands faster up her body.
Isabella nearly tipped backward. Good thing Alexander’s arm kept her upright.
“He’s not hurting her, Isabella. Imagine someone tapping a large, hot Q-tip over your skin.”
She could imagine such a sensation.
“It’s more mind play than anything,” Alexander continued. “Many people are afraid of fire. Are you?”
She slowly nodded. Like most people, she understood fire’s utter indifference to whatever lay in its path. Fire didn’t care if you lived or burned. Yet, today, its warmth called up a strange fear in her that exhilarated rather than paralyzed.
Charlotte seductively licked her lips and peered up at the Master. He cupped a handful of her breast and tapped her nipple with the wand. She cried out lightly, ending in a coo playing on her lips. There was no question she loved the sensation. The Master appeared to love her reaction to what he did.
Isabella took in Princess Charlotte’s assets, adding up her points. At least ten years younger than her. Taller. Breasts more firm. Can withstand fire. Did that last quality win her the crown?
She sent an invisible plea to Mark. She mentally begged him to angle his chin a fraction so he’d catch her in the doorway. If she could just see his confident and stoic face. . . . Alexander had said the redhead was merely under his protection, whatever the hell that meant. In the community, people bandied labels about like confetti.
A loud pop from one of the wands startled her. The flames attached themselves to Charlotte’s skin for the briefest second and then vanished like orange and red ghosts.
She pulled her blouse free from her clammy chest. The slight waft of cooler air did nothing to dissipate the heat growing where it should not be growing. She hadn’t been aroused in . . . how long?
How about in Mark’s kitchen? Or the bridge? Or . . . pick any other time you were with Marcos? Shut up, she told her internal voices. Perhaps she should have tried edge play before. Then Marcos would watch her that way, wouldn’t he?
She projected herself onto the table. If she asked, the flames could land on her skin, make her arch her back that way. Even before she’d been widowed, she hadn’t had a Master’s touch in far, far too long.
Perhaps Marcos could . . .
Stop. She shouldn’t yearn to be in Charlotte’s position. So just don’t think it.
Ha! Like that would work. Her traitorous mind conjured pictures of herself splayed out, nude and writhing, as Marcos, and only Marcos, mastered her body’s reactions. The flames danced over its princess as if alive. Oh, to feel that alive. To have fire skip over her skin. To be the object of Mark’s attention.
He stood. Where was he going?
He strode to Princess Charlotte and smiled down on her. She sent him an adoring look. The kiss he laid on her forehead said everything. He was her real Master, wasn’t he?
Mark sat back down and nodded once. The Master resumed, thrumming the lit wands up the beauty’s legs. The fire skittered across Charlotte’s skin. She twisted and moaned. More licks of warmth reached Isabella’s skin.
She searched the quietest corners of her mind for the bits of peace she’d stitched together in the last few months. The cool, empty places that didn’t need so desperately. They were no help in settling the arousal growing inside.
She turned and looked up at Alexander. He looked over her head and nodded in Mark’s direction. She didn’t dare turn her head.
Alexander gently turned her so she once again faced the scene. “Mark has requested you stay.”
“You got all that from a nod,” she whispered to the center of the room. She didn’t need to pose it as a question. The elite Dominants at Accendos had an uncanny understanding of one another. Their near clairvoyant abilities were part of their allure. They watched out for each other, as they watched out for their charges. Only she wasn’t anyone’s responsibility. She had no Master.
At that instant, her soul felt thrown to the periphery, outside wherever Mark, the other Master and the Fire Princess lived. The detached feeling should have numbed her body. Instead, she was overcome by a sense of loss.
Why had she come back? She should have never returned to D.C.
She glanced up at Alexander once last time, and then fled.