Arabella Kingsley

Brandon’s fingers caressed my cheek as we stepped out of the Gare Du Nord station in Paris in to the evening sunlight. “I can make the choice for you, if you wish,” he suggested in a soothing voice.

Dylan simply held his finger there for a moment allowing her to get used to his dominance guiding her in to surrender but the girl was stubborn and remained silent.

To Zepar there was nothing more intoxicating than the taste of a female.

She stared at him, eyes wide as he moved the crop to the second breast and suddenly struck it with the whip. Another cry came from her lips but this time there was a startled aroused tone to it.

He needed her to be happy and content she belonged to him, accepting of his rule before they took the next step.

The woman needed taming and to be taught not to be frightened of surrendering to her own needs and desires without shame. Time to crack that defensive armour she placed around herself and lay her bare and vulnerable.

The Beast was all that I wanted in a man and damn the feminist inside me who told me I was a criminal for my wants.

Touching her for the first time was electric and the connection between us sparked to life. I knew then I would never be able to let her go. My finger tips lightly caressed her cheek loving the feel of its silky softness.

After waking up in Rome, I had argued with my abusive husband in a public place and then rescued by two gorgeous men who now wanted me in their bed. What was happening to me?

What was I doing? I was about to let this stranger strip me naked and see all of my imperfections. More than that, why was I allowing him to act like my father? Had I gone mad?

“I am a dominant man. I expect to be obeyed by my wife without question but I will never hurt or abuse you. You will always have my love and respect.”

“I panted, intoxicated by him, staring into his eyes with innocent wonder…”