SecretDom

by Secret Dom [MF] (epub)

  The Devil’s Boudoir Series

  Secret Dom

  By Robin McKnight

  Published by Horny Devil Publishing

  Copyright 2013 Robin McKnight

  ISBN 978-1-62518-033-9

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  The Devil’s Boudoir Series: Secret Dom Copyright © 2013 Robin McKnight Edited by Frank Lee and Colette Stone

  Cover art by Dee Allen

  Electronic book publication

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Horny Devil Publishing LLC, P.O. Box 2508, Palm City, FL 34991 .

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, elect ronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. ( http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/ ). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Dedication

  Secret Dom is dedicated to my mother and my sister, both of whom encouraged me to start writing and have been incredibly supportive of my budding career as an author. Thanks for everything!

  Chapter One

  The note flitted to the floor from between the sales papers and junk mail she’d grabbe d from the mail box as she unlocked the door. The envelope was stunning — ecru — with beautiful black calligraphy, sealed with a black silk ribbon and a large “E” embossed on the face of the envelope. Oddly enough, there was no address or post mark — just her name. Rissa kicked off her black patent leather stilettos, leaving them on the floor by the door. Her purse and the rest of the junk mail landed in a clumsy pile on the entry hall table. A tapestry of black and white furniture in clean lines and solid, patternless linens welcomed her home. Rissa had never been one for florals or bright colors. She appreciated more the discipline of a classic black and white pallet and the order of a simple room décor. Sleek and modern, her loft lacked the warmth of one thing — a man.

  Since Deacon moved out, her loft seemed empty, emphasizing the fact that she was alone. She headed to the kitchen, trying not to notice all the missing things along her way. His briefcase next to her purse, his suit jacket slung over the back of the bar chair, his keys and wallet on the bar, even that yappy little Chihuahua, George, had seemed to make her loft seem more like home. With them gone, it felt more like an expensive hotel room. Even though eight and a half months had passed, she still missed him. As much as she missed the man she’d fallen in love with, she knew it was better this way. Deacon had changed. The man who walked out that door was not the man who’d carried her across the threshold for the first time. Still, she missed just having another person in the room. The gorgeous actors on her favorite primetime dramas only provided so much stimulation. Taking on a roommate, as her boss had suggested, would solve the problem of loneliness, but it wouldn’t warm her bed at n ight.

  She set the mystery envelope on the counter and poured herself a glass of Bordeaux. She stared out the window for a while before the sights of the happy couples made her heart hurt. A stolen kiss in the park, holding hands leaving a quaint coffee shop, stopping in the middle of the foot-bridge over the river for a slow dance in the moonlight; it seemed like a lifetime ago when it was her enjoying those little romantic gestures, but now she was lucky to get a sympathetic kiss on the cheek from the elderly door man in her building. Turning back to her glass and the envelope, she carried them from the kitchen to the living room, leaving the haunting memories of love and romance to play out on the streets without her. Opting for the sofa instead of the kitchen table, she sat down and sipped her wine before turning her attention to the envelope in front of her. Odd, but then again, with everyone she knew either getting married or having babies it was more than likely just an invitation to one more event that would give her an excuse to shop for a new pair of shoes and an overpriced gift. She pulled the ribbon, and the envelope fell open as her breath caught in her throat. The contents of the envelope were even more stunning than the envelope itself. Gold filigree bordered the deep black satin-textured background, while gold-embossed text rose from the flat card. The inscription there, however, was more cryptic than the mysterious envelope.

  The moment I saw you, I knew, yours is the only submission I crave. The choice is yours to make, but if you’ll take a chance, the reward will be more than worth the risk. -E

  She ran through the list of people in her life who might have sent the letter, but no one stuck out. A momentary panic had her looking around to make sure the doors and windows were locked as she thought about all the books and movies that started with a stalker ’ s note, but usually those letters were made out of cut up magazines, not the stunning calligraphy of the one she received. Shrugging it off as one of her friends trying to make her feel better about being single, she smiled and thought maybe she should have sent herself flowers like she used to do in college to ward off her match-making roommate.

  She finished her glass of wine and dropped the letter in the trash as she went to pour a second. A hot bath and a good night’s sleep, maybe a date with the realty listings for some place that didn’t feel so lonely was in order, but instead of heading to the bathroom, she found herself picking the beautiful note out of the trash. Something about it called to her — the word “submission . ” A secret she kept hidden, only Deacon, a handful of people from the BDSM scene, and the man who introduced her to the lifestyle would have known that “submission” would mean something to her. There were so few people in the world who knew about her predilection for submission that it had to mean whoever sent the note knew her and wouldn’t be trying to hurt her . Or at least she hoped that was the case, because the alternative was more like something she’d watch on one of her favorite crime shows than her own reality.

  She wished she knew more about who sent it or what it meant, but the subtle scent of expensive cologne that wafted up from the paper and the fantasy of some gorgeous stranger admiring her and willing enough to go to all that trouble would get her through the night. Setting the card and envelope on her night stand then her wine glass on the side of the tub, she turned on the hot water as high as it would go and dumped in a handful of salts. A few lit sandalwood candles combined with the dimmed lights, she felt herself finally begin to relax.

  She stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, poking and prodding her face, as the tub filled to the brim. The stress of her job in high finance was starting to show in the lines on her skin, but thirty-four seemed a bit young for wrinkles and Botox. She pulled her long, dark hair up into a loose top knot and began stripping out of her clothes, making a mental note to hit the tanning bed and spend a few extra minutes in the gym, and yet, her attention kept being pulled elsewhere. The mystery letter caught the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but smile sli ghtly at her secret admirer.

  Rissa slipped slowly into the hot water and lay back as the water and the scent of sandalwood enveloped her in a cocoon of relaxation. Her second glass of wine pushed the last of the stress of the day away, and she sighed heavily. An image started to form in her head of who this mystery man might be — a tall, dark, strong, caring…Dom. Her eyes closed and her hands began to r
oam over her body, the way she imagined her secret admirer’s would. Down over the swell of her breasts, she found her beaded nipples, taut and sensitive. She flicked them gently and rolled her palms over them in circles until they were as tight as they could get. Cupping her breasts, she pinched both nipples between her thumb and forefingers squeezing harder until she gasped. Her skin prickled and flushed as the fantasy of the mysterious stranger in her head became more intense and even more lifelike judging by the way her body was reacting to the mere thought of being back in the capable hands of a genuine Dom.

  Her head fell back, and her spine arched as her knees fell slightly apart. Her clit pulsed in anticipation. One hand released her breast and ran down over her flat belly to the apex of her parted thighs. Her hands mimicking the movements of the man in her mind, her middle finger parted the smooth, swollen lips of her pussy to ever so lightly circle her clit. One hand still pinched her nipple, alternating between the two, while she slid her thumb between her thighs, parting her lips even more as she pinched and tugged on her clit, building up the intensity of her pleasure. Rolling her clit between her fingers, the rest of the world disappeared. Nothing existed but the man in her dream and the pleasure building low in her belly.

  Her body began to undulate as her fingers traveled further down to the entrance of her passage. First one, then two fingers stretched her sex as she slowly pumped her fingers in and out of herself. Her thumb pressed against her clit, and she slipped a third finger into her passage. Her little finger rubbed against the entrance to her ass as she began to pump faster into her core, and her body began to move, riding her own hand. Her breath quickened, and each inch of her skin felt ready to burst as she imagined her mystery Dom pleasing her. Strong hands, muscles bulging, tensing with control and power, and the faint hint of a deep, velvet baritone guiding her pleasure consumed her imagination.

  She bit down on her lip to hold in her screams of pleasure, to keep from coming so quickly, but it didn’t do much good . The slight jolt of pain pushed her over the edge, her body contracting around her fingers wildly as she came hard and fast, free-falling into the blissful spasms of her orgasm. Her body trembled, and she felt breathless as she came back to reality, the cool bath water surrounding her sensitive skin. A disappointed sigh left her lips as she pushed herself up in the tub. Languid limbs went through the motions of scrubbing her skin, lathering her hair, washing the stresses of the day away. Pulling the plug and rinsing her hair in the faucet, she stepped out of the tub, wrapping herself in a plush towel. Her mind was a million miles away, still lost in the ebb and flow of a power exchange with the faceless man she’d conjured to match the mystery note. Padding to the bed, her fingers moved of their own volition over the edges of the note on the nightstand. Dropping the towel, she picked up the note and laid it on the pillow next to her. The subtle scent of cologne wafted across her senses like a delicate caress, and she closed her eyes to savor it. The heady mix of wine combined with her orgasm relaxed her enough that moments after falling into her satin sheets, she slept better than she had in weeks.

  Chapter Two

  Bitter scents of dark roasted coffee beans mingled with the sweet aromas of pumpkin, vanilla, caramel and chocolate. Cinnamon and hazelnut pastries taunted her from behind the thick glass of the bakery cabinet while she stood in line at her usual coffee stop on the way to work. She’d given up caffeine weeks ago, hoping to shed those extra uninvited pounds that kept hanging around, but she still stopped in at The Common Grounds every morning on the way to work. Decaf, skinny vanilla latte and an egg white, spinach and Gouda breakfast wrap. She ’d ordered it so often the Barista behind the counter didn’t even have to ask, but this morning, the pumpkin spice latte was calling her name, and she was powerless to resist its siren call.

  “Make it a pumpkin spice this morning, ok? Skim milk and decaf, and the usual wrap. Please. ” Rissa thumbed through the New York Times sitting on the counter for sale while she waited for her order, smirking to herself at the advice column for the day. Desperately Dating in Dallas — Poor guy’d been on dozens of first dates that never got him a second date. Turns out he was rushing through one date to get to the next one on the same night. All Rissa could think about was some funny picture she’d seen browsing the internet that read ‘ Try going down a water slide with n o water and you’ll understand why foreplay is so important.’ The advice columnist seemed to agree, offering the sage advice, ‘ You have to take your time with a woman if you want her to stick around for more than one night. A woman doesn’t want a two pump chump, so slow down and see where the first woman will take you before scheduling in time for another woman. ’ Ain’t that the truth ?

  When her order slid across the counter to her, she reached for her wallet to pay, but the young man behind the counter stopped her, and instead, held out an envelope exactly like the one she’d found in her mailbox last night.

  “Your breakfast is already taken care of, Ms. Trent. A nice man came in this morning, took care of your usual order, left a hefty tip, and asked me to give this to you. I’m not much for romance, but that seems like some sappy chick-flick stuff right there. Lucky girl, luckier man, I say.” No way was this kid more than 17 or 18, but he winked and smiled at her like he did every morning. She never responded with more than a “thank you” in return for his shameless flirting every morning, but she didn’t say anything this tim e just took her order and stared at the card as she walked to her car, stunned and more than a little freaked out. First the letter at her home last night that had to have been hand delivered; now she’d been ambushed at her usual coffee shop. The situation had bad news written all over it, but again, she found herself pulling the ribbon to open the envelope. Inside, in the same gold embossed print as the one before was another intriguing message:

  There is nothing vanilla about you, Reese’s. I never believed in love at first sight until I met you, but in that moment, I knew it existed. When it is time, I hope that you will know too. -E

  Panic and nervousness began to set in. Someone was following her and knew way too much about her habits — where she lived, where she bought her coffee, and even though she’d opted for pumpkin spice this morning, her morning coffee order. She closed her eyes to breathe and pretend that this wasn’t real. She lifted the letter, reading it again, but this time, certain words jumped off the page at her — vanilla wasn’t just a reference to her usual drink order, it was a double entendre, a reference to the darker submissive side the first note had alluded to.

  That wasn’t the biggest thing that caught her attention though. Reese’s was. When she’d first discovered the world of BDSM, there’d been someone who took her under his wing and showed her the ropes. He ’d nick-named her after the candy because he said she was so sweet she made his teeth hurt and because it was so close to her actual name. The only problem was his initial was M not E. No, these letters had to be from someone she’d met back when everyone knew her as Reese’s , but no matter how hard she wracked her brain, she couldn’t come up with a name for her mysterious secret admirer. Pondering this issue, her coffee became cold, and now she was late for work. Even worse, the realization that she had managed to catch the attention of someone from her past, more importantly, from the Dom/sub part of her past, had her panties uncomfortably damp. It’d been so long since she’d experienced the pleasure of relinquishing control to another.

  Thank goodness her office had a sofa, no windows, and a door that locked. Clutching the envelope in one hand and her coffee and breakfast in the other, she raced to the elevator of her office building and shifted from one foot to the other, squeezing her thighs together for any bit of relief as she impatiently counted the floors to her office. Fourteen floors passed by torturously slow before the elevator dinged at her floor, and she couldn’t get off fast enough. She’d passed half a dozen people on her way to her door at the end of the hallway by the emergency exit but didn’t have time to stop and chit chat.

  “I have a very important ca
ll to make real ly quickly. Hold my calls and appointments. I’ll be done shortly, ok Melanie ?” If the receptionist answered, Rissa didn ’t hear it. Fumbling with the key to her office, she slammed the door shut and dropped everything on the desk. She’d just climaxed the night before, less than twelve hours ago, but it didn’t put a dent in the arousal that soaked the tiny pink satin fabric that covered her pussy now. Something about knowing there was someone who wanted her so badly that they’d wait years after meeting her and still be attracted enough to send her secret love notes was intoxicatingly erotic.

  Her skin was flushed and covered in goose flesh , and she couldn’t get her skirt hiked up fast enough. She lay down on the small sofa in her office, slid her panties down over her brown saddle shoe pumps and onto the floor. She needed something fast; the ribbed rubber finger cover she used to help grip papers would do just fine. Slipping the small office tool over the end of her middle finger, she slid it between her legs and let the textured cover rub her clit firmly. She shook as she neared orgasm and focused on what it’d be like t o have her unknown mister throw her over her desk and make love to her on her lunch break.

  The frantic knocking on the door, however, stopped her in her sexually frustrated tracks. Pushing herself up, she snatched up her panties and righted her skirt before tucking the damp fabric into her purse, dropping the rubber into the trash, and checking her hair in the reflection of the computer screen. Rolling her eyes and sighing heavily, she yanked open the door to see her assistant trembling on the other side, rapidly babbling about the boss being pissed off and looking for answers. Mousy and petite, the slight female blushed, dropping her eyes to look away.

  “Oh. I’m so sorry, Rissa. I…I didn’t mean to interrupt ; I didn’t realize you had a guest. Mr. Jakobs is looking for you regarding the quarterly financials …” Marianne spoke so quietly Rissa could hear the tapping of her own shoe on the polished marble flooring.