Flog Me, Sir (Bonds of Worship #2) by Lynn Burke (@authorlynnburke) #BDSM #Erotic #Romance #Billionaire #Series #HEA
He offers freedom.
She fears addiction.
Can Garret coax Lissa to submit to his desire to pleasure her through pain, or will it be her needs that bring him to his knees?
Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/FLOGMESIR
My guest room door clicked open before I could move, and I snapped my mouth shut from asking what the hell, when Lissa came in, a bucket of cleaning supplies in hand. Similar black and white clothing like the evening before covered her from neck to ugly black shoes.
She kept her head down, dirty-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, her face free of makeup.
I tracked her as she moved toward the bathroom, unaware I still lay in bed.
Mrs. Hummel ruled the Laurent estate, ruled the live-in staff who kept the mansion running like a spotless timepiece—which also never missed a beat. She knew I hadn’t yet been downstairs. She also knew my lazy ass liked to linger in bed long after everyone else sat for breakfast.
A corner of my lip curled as I realized what Tillie girl was playing at. I eased back against the headboard and grinned.
Lissa shrieked and spun, her gaze landing on my barely sheet-covered, sprawled body. “Oh! Oh, God…I’m so sorry!” She scrambled toward the door.
“No, it’s alright. You don’t have to run off,” I shot out with a chuckle, not ready to let her escape.
Lissa paused, grasping the door handle, her gaze averted. “I didn’t know you were here,” she said in a rush. “Mrs. Hummel had said to get started on your room. I’d assumed she’d seen you, and—”
“It’s alright,” I repeated, cutting her off.
She glanced over at me again, her face red, but she jerked her focus away just as fast.
The sheet covered one of my legs, my groin, and lower abs, but nothing else.
“I’m afraid that Mrs. Hummel made a mistake,” she said, still clutching the door handle.
“Tillie girl doesn’t make mistakes.” As I stated the truth, I zoned in on Lissa’s stance—slightly stooped shoulders, bowed head, and lowered gaze.
She turned her widened hazel eyes on my face as though understanding my command to look at me by simply stating her name. I studied her until she shifted, and I loved that she didn’t look away. Her pulse jumped in her neck, her lips slightly parted as though trying to control her breathing.
“Do you wash the bathroom floors on your hands and knees?” I finally asked.
Her brow furrowed. “That’s the only way to properly clean a floor.”
I grinned and nestled into the bed as though getting comfortable and ready to enjoy the show. “Then by all means,” I said, motioning toward the bathroom, “continue.”
She glanced toward the open door and back to me. “You want to watch—” Her mouth snapped shut, her face burning a sudden luscious shade of red that spread down her neck beneath the starched, white button-down hiding her small breasts.
“Cat got your tongue?” I couldn’t help but tease as she stared at me as though trying to figure me out.
“You’re joking with me,” she finally said, her brow furrowing deeper.
I took my time raking my gaze down over her straightened form, enjoying the hell out of her display of spunk. I wanted to see more of it—and I wanted to mark her pale skin until she melted beneath my hands and begged to follow me around like a needy little pussy cat.
My dick wanted the same thing.
“I’m not,” I murmured, my smile gone, my focus returning to her face.
Her breath caught as her attention dropped to the sheet tenting over my groin. She yanked open my guest room door, disappearing in a clatter of cleaning supplies jostling in the bucket she clutched.
I chuckled and palmed my dick again, deciding to make a mess on the sheets she would be back to strip off the bed later.
© 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.