Amy Markevich nurses fantasies about dominant agent Jordan Monaghan, but she knows they’ll never come true. He’s younger, to-die-for handsome, and so very different from her. She settles for friendship and dreaming from afar, even when he agrees to show her the platonic side of submission.
Jordan has always known what he wanted, and as he gets to know Amy, he’s convinced that she’s the complete package. Her sexy curves and passionate nature contrast sharply with her childlike innocence and exuberant joie de vivre. She calls to him—body and soul.
Just as he’s about to reveal that he’s a Daddy Dom and that he suspects Amy harbors an inner “little” and a submissive side, Amy witnesses a gruesome murder, and a terrorist organization puts her on top of their most-wanted list.
As they are forced to run for their lives from this unexpected enemy, Jordan helps Amy to accept her true nature—as a little—and to redefine everything she thought she knew about belonging to him.
Warnings: anal play, mini-golf, bondage, sensory play, suction cups, and laser tag.
She’d never been to his place. It made sense that they’d go to his apartment because that’s where his equipment would be located. The drive took a little time because he lived two counties away. They mostly chatted about movies and television shows. She figured he wanted to keep the conversation light to put her at ease.
His apartment was exactly like Jamie had described—pristine and sanitary. Amy chalked that up to his modern décor. There was too much shiny metal and not enough color. It could use some fabric and softness to make it homey. Normally she wouldn’t judge anybody’s home, but this seemed so unlike Jordan. Standing there in a black fitted shirt and worn jeans, his face scruffy from a day’s growth, he didn’t seem to fit. The lack of color was him, but the sharpness of the furniture reminded her that perhaps she didn’t know him all that well.
“What do you think?”
“It’s clean.” She wasn’t going to say anything critical, not to a guy who was planning to tie her up.
He frowned. “You don’t like it.”
“It’s fine. I just pictured your place with more leather, and maybe framed photos of your family on the walls.”
He gestured to the sofa. It was the kind with an exposed metal frame and thin cushions for the seat and back. “It’s more comfortable than it looks. Take off your dress and sit down.”
She hadn’t expected him to say that. She looked at her bright yellow sundress, the only spot of real color in the room. “You want me to get undressed? In here?”
“I need to do a few things before we can begin. If you need to freshen up, the bathroom is the down the hall, first door on the left. When I return, I expect to see that you’ve followed orders.”
Orders. His tone had shifted, becoming harder and more commanding. This was definitely his Dom tone. A shiver of anticipation ran up her spine. Finally, being with a Dom seemed right. “Should I call you Sir or something?”
“Let’s hold off on titles for now.” He disappeared down the hall.
Amy made use of the bathroom. She combed her fingers through her hair and redid her ponytail, and then she checked to make sure she didn’t have anything weird going on with the parts of her skin that would be exposed. Standing in front of the mirror wearing only her bra and underwear was a sobering experience. Though she’d worn her prettiest, laciest underthings, there was no way Jordan was interested in her as anything more than a friend. With a sigh, she hung her dress on a hook on the back of the door. He found her a few minutes later perched on the edge of the sofa, which was surprisingly comfortable, without her dress.
He sat down next to her, but he leaned back and stretched his arm along the back. “What’s your color?”
She stared at her hands, folded neatly on her lap, and hoped he hadn’t meant for her to be completely naked. “Green.”
Author Bio: I’m Michele Zurlo, author of the Doms of the FBI series and many other stories. I write contemporary and paranormal, BDSM and mainstream—whatever it takes to give my characters the happy endings they deserve.
I’m not half as interesting as my characters. My childhood dreams tended to stretch no further than the next book in my to-be-read pile, and I aspired to be a librarian so I could read all day. I ended up teaching middle school, so that fulfilled part of my dream. Some words of wisdom from an inspiring lady had me tapping out stories on my first laptop, so in the evenings, romantic tales flow from my fingertips.
I’m pretty impulsive when it comes to big decisions, especially when it’s something I’ve never done before. Writing is just one in a long line of impulsive decisions that turned out to showcase my great instincts. Find out more at http://www.michelezurloauthor.com or @MZurloAuthor.