Skye hides her secret fantasies because good girls don’t long for the kink she dreams about. When her subconscious cravings continue to cause sleepless nights, she takes the biggest step of her life and seeks out a local lifestyle club. She’s horrified and enthralled at what she sees, but too prudish to admit this is the life her mind and body desire. She’s not like these people – or is she?

The club’s owner notices her reaction and gives Skye a folded piece of paper with an address, a date, and time. She finds herself knocking…
Elijah waits on the other side of the door. Dominant, arrogant, and lonely, he’s looking for the perfect submissive to cater to his desires and share the lifestyle he relishes.

Is Skye the one? Is Elijah the missing puzzle piece that will allow her to release her inhibitions and embrace her kinky side? Or will tragedy keep Elijah from Holding Skye?

 

Excerpt

*Note: She is already blindfolded and restrained with headphones in*

 

Her heart beat rapidly, and every sense came alive, straining to learn what he was

doing—what he was going to do. The bed dipped again, this time on the other side. There was more movement, and then the music started again, much louder, stronger, something primal.

 

The music crashed as heat exploded on her stomach and she cried out, body writhing,

pulling away but then rising toward whatever it was. Whatever it was—then it dawned on her; it was wax. He was using a candle on her, dripping hot wax onto her oiled skin.

The heat was briefly intense, bordering on painful, then mellowing, spreading, sinking

into her. She drew a breath, waiting for the next drop.

 

She tried to gauge by the music when it would happen again, but the beat became

syncopated, erratic, rising and falling and, when the heat hit her, it took her by surprise. But her body reacted, took on a life of its own, hips rising, legs falling open against the ropes. The drops came faster, closer together. The pain didn’t mellow quite as quickly; he wouldn’t let it. She wanted it to stop, tossed her head from side to side, but arousal and heat swelled inside her, ready to burst. But just as the word ‘red’ rose to her lips, the pain changed, spread out, softened. She bit back the word, waiting for the next splash of heat, rising up on the bed, her orgasm building, heading toward some amazing peak.

 

Tiny pinpoint drops landed on her breasts, exquisite drops of pain that made her gasp, her body reacting instantly. The music rose, and so did her body, both reaching a crescendo and then the music ended, abruptly. And so did the heat on her skin. She lay gasping, the silence in her ears deafening, her body seeking release. He’d left her on the edge, teetering, aching. Elijah moved on the bed and she instinctively turned her head toward the movement, tugging on her restraints, aching for the next. The music rose suddenly, drowning out any sounds, growing louder. She wanted the heat, wanted the intense pain, the rush. She was sweating from the heat on her skin, from the heat that was building inside.

 

Cymbals crashed and she smiled, knowing the heat was coming, wanting it, craving it.

But it was cold instead, icy cold and wet, pressed against her nipple. She screamed, her

body pulling the ropes taut, goose bumps rising along her arms and legs. The fire that had built inside her rose up fierce and hot, and her hips rose off the bed, seeking release. The slap against her thigh was sharp and bright, stinging, breaking through her arousal, but doing nothing to diminish it. She gasped, her body thudding onto the bed.

 

He hadn’t said… hadn’t told her she couldn’t come. But that must be what he wanted—

what she didn’t understand.

 

The music still played, but the volume dropped considerably. There was movement

again, and then Elijah’s breath was warm on her face. She could hear words, tried to focus on what he was saying.

 

“You do not come until I tell you to. As long as the music plays, you do not come. Nod if

you understand.”