As part of the British peerage, Jordan Graystone knows what it’s like to live in the public eye. Which is why he holds hard limits when it comes to scening with submissives—no kissing, no penetration. Both lead to unwanted emotions and women attempting to take more than he’s willing to give.
Entrusted with the care of raising her younger sister is a responsibility Natalie Perez doesn’t take lightly. She focuses solely on her troubled ward, putting aside her own desires even when confronted with the temptation Jordan promises—fulfilling her fantasies to be bound and worshiped upon an old church’s altar.
Secretly snapping a photo ends in a confrontation that arouses Natalie to the point of turmoil—and Jordan past the point of caring about limits. He’s determined to give Natalie the release she needs, but her obligation threatens to rip apart his plans for more than their agreed upon one night.
Will Natalie’s selfless dedication to her sister be the key to bind her and Jordan together or the fault that tears them apart
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A flick of the lights flooded the room in brightness, and I blinked until he dimmed them enough I could glance around the church’s interior. It appeared the same as the first time I’d trespassed—dark and seductive, the excitement of the unknown heightening my pulse and breath.
Jordan released my hand, and I clutched my arms around my middle as he flipped the switch on a lone electric candle in the front window.
“To let others know the church is occupied,” he explained once he turned to find my brow furrowed in question. He took his time lighting candles around the room, and eventually flicked off the dimmed overhead lights and stood before me.
A shudder rippled over me at the look in his eyes, a darker blue, like the sky at twilight, full of unknown, lurking shadows. He stared at my lips and tugged me close. I dropped my arms to my sides, unsure of what to do but trusting him to tell me.
“We need to talk about a few things first, okay, love?”
The pet name, the accent in his low tone, nearly buckled my knees. I managed a nod, swallowing against the dryness in my throat as I stared at his lips.
“Do you have any experience in this lifestyle?”
I shook my head.
“Are you a virgin?”
Heat flooded my cheeks, and even though I’d only experienced sex a handful of times, I’d never enjoyed it as the women in the eBooks Lily insisted I read. I shook my head once more, too embarrassed to admit the truth of my lackluster sex life.
“Do you know what a safeword is?” he continued with the questioning, and my face heated even more at memories of the last book I’d devoured the evening before.
“Like traffic lights?” I whispered.
A twinkle lit in his eyes. “Yes. Tell me what each color means.”
“Green means go.” I swallowed. “Yellow is slow down, I need to think. Red means stop.”
He nodded. “You’re in control, Natalie. I will learn your body, your tells, but you decide what will or won’t happen tonight, okay, love?”
He would learn my body…
“Tell me—” Jordan turned me to face the room, his hands on my waist as he pressed against my back, his chin on my shoulder “—what part of this room excites you the most?”
Gulping, I glanced at the altar. “Everything,” I whispered rather than admit to the truth.
“Instruments of pain?”
The rack of items including a crop and flogger snagged my attention, but I wasn’t sure about pain other than the idea of his hand prints on my backside.
I eyed the St. Andrew’s cross, flinching at the memory of a woman I’d read about being strapped to such a contraption, angry red marks across her thighs and lower back.
Rings on the sturdy posts drew my focus, and I licked my lower lip.
My breath caught, nipples aching as I studied the table meant for worshiping God and the ungodly images flashing in my head of being tied down—open and unable to move. Bound for a dominant’s pleasure—Jordan’s pleasure.
“Mmm.” His hot breath caressed my ear. “You do want to be strapped down to the altar, don’t you?”
I jerked my head in agreement, a million butterflies fluttering my stomach.
Jordan steered me closer with his hands on my hips, stopping me right in front of the padded altar. Coils of rope sat atop it, and I gulped at the thought of abrasions on my wrists and ankles—not that I had any intention of fighting whatever he wished to do to me.
“Tell me what you want, Natalie,” he said, his breath once again hot against my ear.
Dare I? I hesitated, embarrassed to admit what I’d fantasized about. My gaze flitted to the bed once more and the lengths of black silk draped over the bed’s foot.
I jerked my focus back on the altar and flicked my tongue out to moisten my lips. “Bind me, Sir.”
© 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.