This week, it’s all about the male…and one of my favorite male characters is from my latest Samhain release, Power Play. Reed is all man…which is why it’s so much fun to watch Frankie bring him to his knees.
“You might want to wipe that cocky grin off your face, Donovan. I’m not sure you understand your place here.”
He let the grin morph into a smirk and knew the image irked her. She hadn’t played the game by his rules, either. She’d been the mouthiest sub on the East Coast.
She shook her head, clearly disappointed in his effort. “You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?”
“Easy on me or easy on you?”
She gave him a wicked smile. “I don’t need easy. In fact,” she rubbed the tip of her riding crop along the front placket of his pants, outlining his erection “I prefer it hard.”
He bit back a groan at the pleasure her feather light touch on his cock provoked. Shit. Suddenly a new worry popped into his brain. There was no way he could withstand much of her torment without erupting far too early. She was hotter than shit in her Dominatrix outfit.
“Stand up, Reed.”
He slowly rose, attempting to adjust his pants as he did so. The zipper of his slacks was irritating his cock, and he tried to remember a time when he’d been harder.
She walked away from him, toward her desk. “Take off your clothes. All of them.”
For a split second, he thought perhaps this wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe she’d put him out of his misery quickly. That thought was washed away when he watched her open her desk drawer and pull out a pair of manacles. Her plan flashed before his eyes. The wrist cuffs were separated by a foot of chain. No doubt she intended to bind him to this damn chin-up bar, naked as the day he was born.
The idea of giving her so much control made him uneasy. He’d never let a woman run the show, never let anyone have free rein over his body. He wasn’t sure he could do this. Helpless wasn’t a role he’d ever played and he didn’t intend to start now.
She turned to look at him and her face halted his next words. So much was written in her eyes—need, excitement, fear, challenge. She expected him to balk, expected him to refuse her.
“Chickening out, Donovan?”
He was reminded of his fantasy. She’d given him everything, held back nothing. Didn’t he owe her the same satisfaction? They’d started this as a way of one-upping each other. It was supposed to be a game. Somewhere along the line, the rules had changed. It no longer felt like they were taking so much as giving.
His hands moved to his shirt, unfastening the buttons. She paused, watching him, waiting for him to say more. Slowly, methodically, he shed his shirt, shoes, socks and pants—all as she observed silently. When he was completely naked, he turned his hands, palms toward her as if to say, I’m yours. Take me.
Now let’s hear it for some more boys…