A Sample from Mission Statement...

He could sense the confusion and fear in her, fluttering beneath the surface. Her control was obvious -- this was a woman who managed things, fixed things, decided things -- but underneath it, she was lost. Michael knew she was lost because he'd watched her try to fix herself for days, failing miserably. It was obvious to him that she needed help.

He hoped to God it would become obvious to her.

Normally he would have moved slowly, patiently. As a dom, he had mastered patience and self-control. But being here put them on a deadline. Samuel had confirmed his suspicions that her vacation was nearly over, once Michael had convinced him to check up on her. Cop connections could be incredibly helpful at times.

Although Michael had another week on the island ahead of him, Vicki was scheduled to check out in two days, booked on a flight back to New York late Sunday morning. Knowing how to work with what he had available to him was another skill he'd mastered, personally and professionally, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Awareness of her discomfort didn't mean he was going to assuage it. It was good for her to be slightly flustered. As long as she harbored just a little bit of that insecurity, it would be harder for her to process everything and reach an undesirable conclusion. As a person accustomed to making plans and decisions, if she became too wary, she'd likely decide to bolt and stick to that decision, no matter what he said or did to try to change her mind.

He guided her through the door, then closed it behind them. She stopped only a couple of steps into the entryway, and he stepped around her.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

Her gaze took in the space. "This is different from my room."

Michael chuckled, noticing her eyes were wide, taking in the suite and looking not just a little overwhelmed. "I'm on the time-share side of the place. It's a two-bedroom unit, so it's different."

"Oh," she muttered quietly. Then she began to fidget, wringing her hands as she looked at her feet and blushed. "You didn't come alone?" When she finally made eye contact with him, her eyes held his with a hard glare. "Do you have a family?"

The mental leap she'd taken was Olympic level to him. On one hand, he was impressed with her bravery in asking the question, but on the other…it meant she didn't really trust him at all. This will never do.

"Victoria, I told you I was single, and I told you I was here alone. I don't appreciate you doubting me." Her gaze dropped to the floor again, her blush deepening at his tone as much as his words. He stepped closer to her, lifting her chin to bring her gaze back to his. "I own a place like this in South Carolina, and I traded it to come here. I find there are times when having two bedrooms is…convenient. I also like having space." Although his glare softened as he saw she was embarrassed for jumping to conclusions, he added gruffly, "What I don't like is being accused of lying."

"I'm sorry, Michael," she answered softly.

He ran his fingertips down her arm lightly, setting her at ease while still keeping her a little confused about the situation. "I should be glad you're concerned about protecting yourself, I suppose. So would you like something to drink? Coffee? Orange juice? I have some orange-mango, if you like." He winked at her when he mentioned the mango, and she smiled in return, peering up at him through thick, dark lashes that gave her eyes a smoky look without makeup.

"Some coffee would be wonderful, actually."

He led her to the sofa and then put on some music before busying himself with the coffeemaker. He watched her closely as her discomfort eased and she settled into the cushions, crossing her legs and leaning her head back.

"I don't think I've heard this before. Who is it?"

"John Coltrane, playing with Miles Davis. I like jazz. It's not for everyone, but it soothes me. What do you think?"

She hesitated, seeming to genuinely listen to the music. He liked that. She wasn't going to just nod and smile; she was forming an opinion. He might like his women submissive in the bedroom, but he wasn't interested in a sycophant who would simply agree with his every thought.

"Well, it's not my usual, but I think I like it. It's not background music, you know? You have to pay attention to really hear it all. There's a lot going on."

"Sometimes when you're listening carefully to something that way, it sort of brings everything else into focus too. I'm glad you can appreciate that." One day he would show her how much he could bring things into focus for her. As he imagined her, tied spread-eagle on the cross as the flogger caressed her delicate skin, her gasps interspersed with the warm notes of Trane's sax, he felt himself harden. He pushed those thoughts aside. There was no way she was ready for that, and they had a lot of ground to cover before he'd know if she would ever be ready for it.

But in his soul, he believed she was submissive underneath all her layers of control.

Time to find out.

"Coffee's ready," he announced. "How do you take it?"

She laughed. "Well, I guess you didn't have binoculars while you watched me, or you'd know. Black, please."

He poured each of them a cup, added a spoonful of sugar to his, and brought them over. "Even with binoculars, there was no way to know if you took sugar, sweetheart."

Her raised eyebrows told him she hadn't thought about that, and also that she noted he hadn't denied having binoculars. In truth he'd regretted not having them several times, but he knew leaving her to wonder kept that delightfully unbalanced feeling inside her from easing.

She raised the cup to her lips, and he chose that moment to redirect the conversation to where he'd left it earlier. "So, having the coffee should help remind you. What were you reading this morning?"

"You're persistent, aren't you?"

With a slight shake of his head, he steeled his gaze. "That's not an answer, either. I'm a detective. I'm used to people answering my questions, and I don't have a lot of tolerance for seeing them avoided. I promise you it's relevant to our discussion. Now answer the question, Victoria."

Her struggle was evident on her face. The forcefulness of his tone and the personal nature of his questions were making her anxious, but something about the feeling of being commanded to obey him was appealing to her. She really wasn't very good at keeping her emotions hidden, at least not to him. Few people were. The greatest regrets in his life were tied to the times he hadn't read a situation properly.

Finally resolving the internal battle that had been waged in her mind, she took another sip before setting the cup on the coffee table.

"I was reading women's fiction. Just reading for fun. It relaxes me. I have to read enough boring crap for work that I like to just escape into, uh, romance novels when I have time."

At the word romance, he noted how her eyes darted to the side and she clasped her hands in her lap. Standard tell. Gotcha. He rested his forearms on his knees and closed the distance between them. "Hmmm…women's fiction and romance? Is that a nice way of saying you read erotica?"

She let out something that sounded like a cross between a gasp and a chuckle. "My husband used to call it girl smut. But it's not just sex. There's a story and characters you care about." She looked up at him, exasperated. "Why do you care? Why does it matter what I was reading? You act like it's some key to the universe or something."

He leaned forward so that their knees just touched, staring with command instead of exasperation. He waited long enough to see her fidget before responding.

"Maybe it is. What you read can say a lot about you, and I need to know some things." He reached across to stroke her thigh, and she sighed. He could feel tension leaving her body, a reaction that confirmed for him that she wanted him physically, at least in a conventional way, and conversation was not what she had expected when she accompanied him to his rooms.

"Stand up, sweetheart."

Mesmerized by his gaze, she obeyed him. He took her hand and guided her to the balcony doors. He stood directly behind her, invading her personal space, his chest against her back, his hardening cock pressed lightly against the shallow and alluring curve rising above her round and glorious ass. He gently scraped his fingernails along the bare skin of her arms.

"I stood here every morning, watching you. You sat, sipping your coffee and reading your book, slowly moving your thighs together. Your fingertips stroked your breasts, teased your nipples, and I watched. When you pressed your hand between your legs, parted those luscious thighs, and rubbed your pussy, do you have any idea what that did to me?"

Her breaths became shallower, and her arms pebbled in gooseflesh. His fingertips never stopped mapping her delicate skin, running from the curve of her shoulders down to the backs of her hands and back to the strap of her dress, continuing the circuit again and again. He could see the hard peaks of her nipples through the silken fabric of her dress. Shifting slightly so that his mouth was touching her ear, he allowed one hand to move up to the base of her throat while the other continued to stroke her arm. Gently holding his hand against her, he pushed her further with his words.

"Seeing you like that, watching you take your own pleasure, was torture. Knowing you were exposed, out in the open where anyone could see you, watch you as I did… You're a naughty girl, aren't you? You should be punished for teasing me that way, shouldn't you? For making me hard and leaving me unsatisfied. Dirty girls like you deserve to be punished, don't they?"

He felt her heartbeat quicken, her pulse racing under his fingertips. She gasped when he said punished, but she didn't pull away. In fact, she leaned into him, probably not even aware that she arched her back, pressing into his cock and moving against him. He saw her close her eyes and knew she'd try to overthink it. He needed to push her a little more.

He moved the hand that was at her throat down to her chest, palm open, caressing the warm skin above the neckline of her dress. He let his fingers dip under the fabric, touching the lace of her bra, caressing the soft rise of flesh. Bringing his other hand to her stomach, he stroked up, allowing his thumb to tease the nipple as he cupped the underside of her breast. Her head dropped back slightly, and he knew she was losing control.

"You like that, don't you, Victoria? You want me to treat you like the naughty slut you are. It excites you to think of me taking you in hand." He cupped both of her breasts, drawing his fingers forward slowly and putting pressure on her aching peaks. "Your nipples are so hard. I can tell they're sensitive. I want to take them in my mouth, bite them and suck them until you can't think straight. That's what you need from me, isn't it? You need me to take you to a place where you don't have to think."

Her body was responding to him, and he could imagine it felt like it was becoming separate from her mind, reacting to the stimulus he was providing. But he could sense her mind was fighting the feeling. He had to keep her body in charge.

"You need this," he said as he pinched both nipples, hard enough to focus her attention but not so hard as to allow her to break free of the web he was spinning. Running one hand back down over her stomach, palm flat and pushing her more firmly against him, he moved inexorably to her mound while he continued to tease first one nipple, then the next with his other hand. Increasing the pressure as he moved slowly downward, he pushed his middle finger right between her legs, amplifying the feelings of need he was creating in her pussy. She settled into him farther, the first sign of her surrender.

Feeling her give in to him sent a wave of emotion through him. It wasn't just lust, either. His heart swelled almost as much as his cock, sensing this woman giving a piece of herself, even if she didn't realize she had.

"Tell me you want me, and I'll take you. I'll fuck you so hard your brain will finally take a vacation. I can give you what you're looking for, but you have to tell me."

He stroked her with increasing pressure, forcing his hand farther and farther down so he was putting delicious friction just where she needed it. She whimpered.

Michael put his lips on her ear and whispered, "Say you want me. Tell me you want me to fuck you." He bit her earlobe and moved his lips down her neck as he continued his relentless caresses, pinching and tugging her nipples and sending sparks to her center where he rocked her with his hand.

He knew it would be a struggle for her to admit what she wanted, what she needed. Getting her to acknowledge it was the first step of a journey he longed to take with her. He was rock hard, thrusting against her back to increase the pressure he put on her pussy.

Barely a whisper, she finally gave in -- to him, to herself, to her body's demands.

"God, yes. Please. Yes, Michael." She shivered and arched her back, pushing her breasts against his hand.

"Yes, what? Say it. If you want it, you have to say it. What do you want me to do to you?"

A low moan escaped her lips, followed by a breathless demand. "Please. Please take me," she whispered. "I want you to…to fuck me."

As she said the words, he nipped her lightly on the soft skin between her neck and shoulder, licking and sucking the bite.

"Very good, Victoria," he told her, his hand leaving her pussy to cup her ass. "Just this once, you get to have a say." He'd enjoyed the soft cushion of her ass as he'd rubbed against her, but feeling the pliant flesh in his hand almost undid him. There was no question he was an ass man, although he truly enjoyed every part of a woman. That would have to wait, though. He had felt the wetness of her pussy through her dress, and it was past time he explored her more thoroughly.

Reluctantly he let go of her delightful ass cheek and slowly lowered the zipper of her dress. Keeping his arm wrapped around her chest, he slid first one strap and then the other from her shoulders. He could sense her confusion and anxiety rising.

"Hands against the glass, Victoria."

The Romance Reviews

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