Can one woman serve two masters?
Celia Brentwood meets Garrett Lawrence at a time of change. Not knowing what to expect from this man who has suddenly become her master, she submits to him and discovers how pleasure and pain combine to create euphoria. Garrett then introduces her to the care of Lord Fyre, a man who sees into her heart and understands her darkness.
Leaving her master to be under the three month tutelage of Lord Fyre proves to be harder than she imagined, but the greater difficulty is returning to Garrett. She’s a different woman than the one who left him. Celia struggles with powerful emotions for each.
Both men have dominated her body. Which man will claim her heart?
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BDSM Erotic Romance
Again, a man on either side, me emotionally stretched between the two for totally opposite reasons. Garrett, I wanted to love me, to cherish me—to be my Master; but Lord Fyre, I wanted to open me, to share with me the lovely darkness I knew lurked in his soul, the same darkness I believed lurked in mine.
Lord Fyre demanded, “Who do you belong to?”
I didn’t answer, and closed my eyes. In my heart I still belonged to Garrett, but a deep-seated instinct that I was loath to understand insisted I allow myself the experience of Lord Fyre.
“No one,” I answered, which seemed the only safe choice. “Master has released me, you have yet to collar me.”
“And yet here you kneel before me, not him. Kiss my boots before you rise, slave.”
I placed a soft kiss on the top of each black, shiny boot, which smelled faintly of fresh shoe polish. I wondered for a moment who shined his boots with such great care that I could see my reflection in their surface, and would that be my job soon? Standing slowly, I faced him.
I lowered my gaze to the floor, but didn’t drop my face.
“Walk with me,” he commanded, turning and going out onto the porch. I didn’t follow, at least not immediately like a good slave would have, instead I looked to Garrett, seeking permission, approval, or some sign I was or wasn’t making a huge mistake. In answer, he used a nod of his head to nudge me out the door.
Leaving the house, I didn’t find Fyre on the porch.
The sun was blinding bright, the soft morning turned into a brilliant, clear afternoon with a deep blue sky and white puffy clouds. My favorite kind of day. It promised to be hot. For a moment, I was distracted by the sheer beauty surrounding my porch. My massive perennial gardens had come out in full glorious bloom while I was away, hummingbirds ducked in and out of the overhanging wisteria, monarchs flitted amongst the daisies. Honey bees made a symphony of their own, darting gluttonously from fragrant bloom to fragrant bloom. I dallied, trying to get my bearings on which way he might have gone without seeming too obvious.
“I’m here,” he called, and I walked along the painted wood porch to reach the side stairs leading to the lawn. Joining him, I kept my eyes lowered, and stepped back just a little when I saw his hand reach for me. Reflex. Not ducking, not exactly, but in defense. The reaction was met by a heavy sigh, “Who hurt you? Who made you lose your trust?” He shook his head. “Not Garrett.”
Then his hand was near my face, not touching, reaching for me in what seemed like slow motion, trying not to spook me, as one trained might approach a new horse or an unknown dog, but maybe my mind just had a hard time accepting he was going to touch me. His fingers were light on my jaw, lifting my face with an easy pressure, forcing my gaze up to his. I directed my gaze away.
“Look at me.” His voice was smooth and easy, but not akin to warm brandy, more like summer thunder, soft, rolling, non-threatening. Our gazes collided when I finally brought myself to lift my eyes to his, and the force of will coming from his was a scary thing I quickly glanced away from.
“Keep your eyes on mine.”
Swallowing, I obeyed and forced myself to keep looking long after my bravado faded. A slow trembling started in my shoulders, uncontrollable. I feared him for no other reason than that once he’d kissed me and once he’d entranced me. Both times, in my mind, I’d thought of him as Lucifer, the great deceiver; but standing before him, I forced myself to remember that he was a man, just a man. His scent came to me on the breeze, exotic, unknown, like incense, frankincense, and myrrh, with a hint of cinnamon and warm leather.
I wanted to look away but took him all in. A hint of five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw, adding ruggedness to his well-trimmed mustache and goatee. Lashes longer and thicker than any I’d ever seen on a man surrounded his dark brown eyes. Just a man, I told myself again, not a God, not a demon, and still I trembled.
“Are you going to be able to go through with this?” he asked.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I want this, I truly do.”
His eyes narrowed and I felt him assess the truth of my words. “Go inside. Spend the evening with Garrett and Jackie. Eat a good meal—God knows you need one by the look of you. Tonight, you and Garrett are going to make up for the misunderstanding, for the deceit, for the betrayal.”
I jerked with each accusation—deceit, betrayal—knowing how much pain I’d caused Garrett, wishing I’d been honest from the start. The regret trapped in my chest begged for release, but my gaze never left Lord Fyre’s.
“Tonight he will make love to you and I want you to embrace that love, fill yourself with it, saturate every pore of your being in that love, enough to carry you through three months of not seeing him, because once I collar you, you will be mine, solely mine, for ninety days. Do you understand?”