What can you do in three minutes?
My new Male/Female BDSM book - Three Minute Man - is coming out on Monday, so I thought I would share a bit about that this month. (Yes, I do occasional write about women – not often, lol, but it does happen.)
Here’s the blurb:
Three minutes doesn’t give Ian much time to prove he’s the dominant that Susan had given up on finding, but it’s amazing what the right dominant can do in three minutes!
Ian had plans for the submissive he’d seen playing casual games with other dominant men in the local leather bars, but she disappeared off the kinky scene before he had a chance to claim her. When he finds her working in a speed dating club, he’s determined not to let her slip through his fingers again.
Susan made a conscious decision to give up on the lifestyle. She’s not going to change her mind just because some dominant strolls into her life and starts snapping his fingers. The fact that Ian calls to the very part of her that she’s been trying to repress for the last eighteen months isn’t important. She’s not going back on her decision.
Unfortunately for Susan, she’s never been able to resist a bet—not when there’s more than money at stake.
And here’s a quick excerpt:
“If you’re talking about another damn car rather than a woman, I’m officially disowning you.”
Ian Georgeson stood stock still on the edge of the crowded car park, not paying the least attention to his younger brother’s threats. The view through the window into the club held him completely transfixed. The rows of shiny sports cars behind him suddenly became far less interesting than they had been a moment before.
“Ian, you listening or what…?” Billy trailed off.
Ian didn’t look around. He was sure his brother had caught sight of the same woman he was admiring through the glass.
“Sweet,” Billy whispered.
“Find your own, kiddo.”
“She’s not yours yet.”
“The important word in that sentence is yet,” Ian told him. He could so easily slip an imaginary collar around her neck and make the picture she presented entirely perfect. She smiled at someone just out of his sight.
A shot of jealousy raced through him at the simple fact she should smile that way at anyone but him. Ian raised an eyebrow at himself. It had been a long time since any woman had inspired that sort of instantly possessive reaction in him. In fact, it had been almost exactly eighteen months—which was precisely the last time he saw a submissive who looked damn near identical to this woman, in a kink club on the other side of town.
Billy said something off to his left.
“I said,” Billy repeated with a long suffering sigh. “No, please don’t worry about me. Of course I don’t mind you dropping your younger brother to chase after some waitress…etc, etc.”
“Glad to hear it,” Ian said.
Billy shouted after him, something about which pub they were supposed to be meeting their friends and watching the match in. Ian couldn’t care less about rugby, right then. He was already pushing open the door and walking into the club.
The woman he’d seen through the window stood by the bar on the other side of the room. As Ian strode across to her, he took the opportunity to study her more closely. She was tall—tall enough that he wouldn’t get a crick in his neck every time he kissed her. That was rare enough for a man of his height to find in a lover. It also matched with his memory of the sub he’d seen playing on a St. Andrew’s cross all those months ago.
She turned and he caught a glimpse of her face.
He could always tell. He didn’t know if it was something in the eyes, or the expression, but Ian had proved it to himself time and time again over the years—he could always spot a natural submissive. Even if he wasn’t damn near sure she was the woman he’d spotted in the leather bar all those months ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to mark the woman standing by the bar down as a true sub.
Closer to her, he turned his attention to checking for any sign of ownership. There wasn’t a single piece of jewellery visible on her body. No pretty gold necklace that could act as a subtle collar, no ring, no bracelet, not even an earring in sight.
Long blond hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, without so much as a hair clip to decorate it. The little, black, figure hugging dress was complimented by nothing more than simple black stilettos. The outfit was so simple, it was tantalisingly easy to imagine that she’d considered more intimate items of clothing just as unnecessary. Ian smiled to himself, wondering if he would have the chance to find out at some point.
“Perfect balance!” she declared as he reached her side. She lifted a folder and placed a mock kiss against the cover.
The younger waitress on the other side of the bar giggled.
“Finally! Thank you, Lord! They’ve finally coaxed enough women through the door. For once I won’t have to sit through a dozen different versions of…” Seeming to sense his presence, she looked over her shoulder. “Can I help you, sir?”
The honorific fell from her lips as if it was just any other word. As if she put a great deal of effort into making it sound as if she thought it was just any other word.
An experienced submissive then—she knew what that word could mean in the right context. It must be a special brand of torture for a woman who had offered that token of respect to someone who deserved it, to have to apply it to every idiot who walked through the door. The last of his doubts vanished. So this was where that sub he’d had his eye on had disappeared to…
She looked him up and down before lifting her eyes politely back to his. Her expression didn’t change, but her posture altered. She knew what he was too. She recognised a dominant man, a master, when she saw one.
“Miss?” He held out a hand.
“Susan Fisher,” she filled in, putting her hand in his. After the briefest possible moment, she tried to take it back.
Ian closed his fingers around her hand, not gripping hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough that she had little choice but to leave her hand in his or cause a scene by struggling to break contact.
He heard her breath catch in her throat. She closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed. Ian studied her carefully. Her instinct to submission was right there, just a scratch below the surface. It had obviously been far too long since she played.
“Susan, is there a problem?”
Ian glanced over his shoulder and saw an older man approaching them. Employer. He spared him one more glance, a very swift up and down inspection. The kind of boss who liked to get to know his female members of staff very well indeed, if Ian was any judge.
“No problem, at all,” Ian said. “Miss Fisher was just explaining that she would be happy to sit in with me to balance out the numbers.”
Her fingers twitched in his grip, but her practiced smile didn’t falter.
“Excellent,” her boss cooed.
Ian waited until she met his eyes before he allowed her to retrieve her hand.
Susan’s boss lingered at her side. She had no choice other than to play nicely while he watched, but Ian could see the anger she barely kept in check. Susan Fisher was royally furious with him.
“If you’ll fill in the form, sir,” she said, coolly. “I’ll see to it that an extra table is set up in the other room.”
She handed him a piece of paper.
Ian’s lips twitched into a smile as she strode off, far faster than anyone should be able to walk in heels that high. When she’d moved out of sight, he turned his attention to the piece of paper in his hand. Speed dating? He held back a sigh. There really was no gain without pain.
He filled in the form and handed it to the waitress behind the bar. She was still studying him with blatant curiosity. That was good. No doubt the staff would have noticed if other dominant men were coming to the club with an eye to collaring Susan.
“Have you ever heard the expression—‘all’s fair’?” he asked her.
“And is it love or war you’ll get from Miss Fisher, sir?” she asked, a soft Irish lilt tinting each word.
He raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps both if I’m very lucky.”
Thanks for reading. If you’re reading this any time after the first of March, the book is available here :)
Kink, love and a happy ending. Do you Dare?