Raphaella
Years ago, a humiliating incident placed me into Wyatt Sanders’ orbit. We went our separate ways, and since then, I’ve embraced my sexual submissive nature. I’m happy in the BDSM lifestyle, and safe within my newfound family. When the chance to see him again arises, I jump in. But what he proposes is … terrifying.
Wyatt
From the moment Raphaella Owens looks up at me, my whole being recognizes her. She’s meant to be mine. And I want it all. She agrees to a month. Thirty days to show her what we can be.
Be Warned: anal sex, sex toys, BDSM
“Raphaella, come here.”
Here we were.
The first morning of my month with Wyatt.
As I stepped slowly toward him, his eyes became my only compass.
I stopped in front of him and drew in his scent—a hint of aftershave mixed with everything Wyatt.
“I said come here, Ella.”
The growl in his voice was a warm caress under my skin. I shifted closer until my erect nipples brushed his chest.
Wyatt’s fingers fisted in my hair. When he tugged my head back in a firm pull, the shivers turned into quakes.
His face slanted down, putting his mouth an inch away from my parted lips. When he banded a strong arm around my waist, I gasped. He hauled me on my toes, and his erection pushed into my belly. Breathless, I gripped his sides.
His mouth slammed on mine. His tongue thrust in, and my moan rolled into his mouth.
The more he took, the wider my mouth opened.
The wrecking kiss was so deep, my whole body became tinder, flaming under his touch. My lower belly spasmed, and I moaned again. I was going to come just from his kiss.
Wyatt ended the enthralling capture of my mouth by brushing feather light pecks over my tingling lips, my cheeks, and my chin.
When I opened my eyes, his gaze was planted in mine.
“Good morning, Raphaella.”
