The Reins of Love

Author: Tara Buckley
Genre: BDSM Contemporary Erotic Romance
Released: February 19, 2012
ISBN: 978-0-9849097-2-8

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When prima ballerina Beatriz Herrera first sees Tolo de Ximon, she’s insulted that all he does is stare at her. After she dances Giselle flawlessly, Tolo’s stare saves her life. Read how a strong-willed aristocrat and a perfect dancer became Europe’s most passionate BDSM couple in Tara Buckley’s novella, The Reins of Love.

EXCERPT

Beatriz felt the presence of the man from the front row burning into her bare back. She turned her head slowly and smiled at him.

“Please come in,” she said in formal Spanish.

He nodded at her, but turned to her father to introduce himself. He bowed in a very traditional way that her father must have admired very much. His voice filled her just as much as his look had sustained her on the stage.

“Sir, I am Bartolomeo de Comendador de Borbon de Ximon de Ybanes. It is an honor to meet you.”

Her father was simultaneously pleased to meet the elegant, aristocratic, blessedly Spanish man who presented himself, and displeased to realize that he must be there because he was courting Beatriz.

Beatriz presented each of her brothers in turn, listening as the man introduced himself to them more casually as Tolo Ximon. When he reached the end of the impromptu receiving line he took Beatriz’s hand in his and brought it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles with tenderness, but held her fingertips with hard possession. And he didn’t let go of her when he was finished kissing her. Instead he placed her hand on his forearm and then put his hand on top of hers to hold it in place.

“Would you all excuse us for a few moments?”

Beatriz stared in shocked wonder as this stranger, who was not a stranger, smiled pleasantly and dismissed her familial army. Her brothers patted Tolo on his upper arm or nodded with a brotherly smile, as if Tolo were already part of the family. Beatriz’s father was the last to leave the small, fragrant room, pausing in front of Tolo.

“I see that you and Beatriz have an understanding, but I am still her father. I expect to hear from you very soon, young man.” Then her father nodded, first to Tolo, then to Beatriz, and left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Amid the silence and the hundreds of roses and the feel of his arm under hers, her body woke up to him. For him. His eyes were black with a mixture of desire, passion, conviction, intelligence. Power, she amended. That’s what it was. Sheer, raw power.

He nodded once, then spoke in low, commanding Spanish. “Do you know who I am?”

Beatriz held his gaze, and without a moment’s pause replied, “You are mine, I think.”

He grabbed her neck so hard she thought he might snap it, and that she might not mind if he did. His lips were on hers, her first kiss she thought with girlish innocence, then felt the heat that was transferring from his lips into hers. The demands of his tongue, her tentative ripostes. The pressure of his hands around her neck.

“Don’t leave any marks…until the end of the month…when I am finished…and then I want every brand, every scar you can give me…” she panted and he quickly released his strong fingers from her neck and began undoing the fabric and ties and zippers and snaps that were soldered to her sweating, wanting body.

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