| Author: | RJ Cascades | ISBN: | 9781370416240 |
| Publisher: | Twisted Temptations | Publication: | December 28, 2016 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | RJ Cascades |
| ISBN: | 9781370416240 |
| Publisher: | Twisted Temptations |
| Publication: | December 28, 2016 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
Susan is looking for revenge on her cheating husband. She wants everything she didn’t get in her marriage. She wants to be excited, thrilled down to her toes and has recently discovered the intriguing world of BDSM. She wants more, and seeks out a master to teach her the art of submission.
Clint has no love for the surge of wanna’ be submissives into his favorite BDSM club but Susan stands out from the crowd. She is a beautiful mature woman who knows what she wants and she fascinates him. He has not taken on a new submissive in years, but her doe like eyes and svelte body call to him. How can he refuse her, when she implores him so sweetly, mouth slightly open, head tilted back, awaiting his desire, “Teach me, master.”
Clint is trapped, called like a moth his destruction, and she is his willing student.
EXCERPT:
I dressed like a hooker, in a tight red dress with double straps crossed over my open back. My ripe breasts were pushed up and made to appear more youthful, higher and tighter. This dress made me look good and feel even better. I had nylons and my red fuck me heels on. My heels clacked with every step.
I thought I would be dressed nice, but evidently I didn’t do enough research for The Dungeon. Most the men here simply wore jeans and a tee shirt, and were very casually dressed. Women wore black corsets, or latex and chokers around their necks. The other thing I noticed was the age of all the people here. This was a younger crowd, twenty years younger than me and they ran rough. I stood out like a red hooker.
If I thought I was going to meet another Christan Grey here, I was wrong.
I sucked in my breath and picked up my head an inch as I walked across the crowded room to the bar. I wasn’t leaving before I got a drink. I heard laughter. I heard rude comments in rough male voices. The bartender was the cleanest looking guy in here. He wore a button down blue plaid shirt and dark blue jeans that clung to his torso. I suspected he had a tight ass, and if he would turn around I could see if my suspicions were true. He had a slight beard and wavy black hair that swept across his forehead.
He was cute in a redneck kind of way and nothing like my caveman husband.
“I’ll have a long island iced tea, please.”
He frowned darkly at me. I shivered in response before he spoke again, “You might want to move along Barbie. We don’t serve your kind here.”
He had beautiful icy blue eyes. It was a strange thing for me, to be rejected like this. Everyone liked me. I had never been so insulted, or experienced this kind of prejudice. “My kind? What is that supposed to mean?”
“No one ever orders anything but beer around these parts.”
“Then I’ll have a beer,” I tossed the reply with a saucy tilt of my head. Then I planted my butt in the barstool in front of him so he wouldn’t get any funny ideas. “I’m staying.”
Susan is looking for revenge on her cheating husband. She wants everything she didn’t get in her marriage. She wants to be excited, thrilled down to her toes and has recently discovered the intriguing world of BDSM. She wants more, and seeks out a master to teach her the art of submission.
Clint has no love for the surge of wanna’ be submissives into his favorite BDSM club but Susan stands out from the crowd. She is a beautiful mature woman who knows what she wants and she fascinates him. He has not taken on a new submissive in years, but her doe like eyes and svelte body call to him. How can he refuse her, when she implores him so sweetly, mouth slightly open, head tilted back, awaiting his desire, “Teach me, master.”
Clint is trapped, called like a moth his destruction, and she is his willing student.
EXCERPT:
I dressed like a hooker, in a tight red dress with double straps crossed over my open back. My ripe breasts were pushed up and made to appear more youthful, higher and tighter. This dress made me look good and feel even better. I had nylons and my red fuck me heels on. My heels clacked with every step.
I thought I would be dressed nice, but evidently I didn’t do enough research for The Dungeon. Most the men here simply wore jeans and a tee shirt, and were very casually dressed. Women wore black corsets, or latex and chokers around their necks. The other thing I noticed was the age of all the people here. This was a younger crowd, twenty years younger than me and they ran rough. I stood out like a red hooker.
If I thought I was going to meet another Christan Grey here, I was wrong.
I sucked in my breath and picked up my head an inch as I walked across the crowded room to the bar. I wasn’t leaving before I got a drink. I heard laughter. I heard rude comments in rough male voices. The bartender was the cleanest looking guy in here. He wore a button down blue plaid shirt and dark blue jeans that clung to his torso. I suspected he had a tight ass, and if he would turn around I could see if my suspicions were true. He had a slight beard and wavy black hair that swept across his forehead.
He was cute in a redneck kind of way and nothing like my caveman husband.
“I’ll have a long island iced tea, please.”
He frowned darkly at me. I shivered in response before he spoke again, “You might want to move along Barbie. We don’t serve your kind here.”
He had beautiful icy blue eyes. It was a strange thing for me, to be rejected like this. Everyone liked me. I had never been so insulted, or experienced this kind of prejudice. “My kind? What is that supposed to mean?”
“No one ever orders anything but beer around these parts.”
“Then I’ll have a beer,” I tossed the reply with a saucy tilt of my head. Then I planted my butt in the barstool in front of him so he wouldn’t get any funny ideas. “I’m staying.”
