As a widower, Xavier Greer found satisfaction running The Aerie, Denver’s private BDSM club, but his life was on hold. When Angela Vernon returns, he feels desire again. Trouble is, she’s a Domme now and there isn’t a submissive bone in his body. Still, she is really hot…
For Angela, being a Domme is a way to control her desire for the one man she can’t have…Xavier Greer. Loving her best friend’s husband had been too painful, forcing Angela to leave The Aerie. Back now, years later, Angela figures she can handle seeing Xavier because she’s no longer a sub. But Xavier is a hard man to resist. And Angela’s the right woman to expose a secret heart.
Angela. Not in black leather, Xavier noted with the three brain cells he had left. Bronze brocade corset and panties, garter belt, stockings, and all of it merely a dim reflection of her hair.
She normally wore it in a tight French pleat, but tonight it was soft, caught up in a loose pile on top of her head. It looked like it would come down if he pulled out just two pins. Xavier was eager to try, just to see the cloud of Titian hair floating around her head.
He’d been expecting classic dominatrix gear. But this woman was so much more appealing, welcoming. Still a Domme: no downcast eyes, no uncertainty in her demeanor, none of that subtle message that called out to a Dom and pleaded for him to take control.
Xavier had the utmost respect for Dommes. They were often more generous than a Dom might be, which paradoxically meant they could be crueler for longer if that’s what the scene demanded. Rare was the sub, male or female, who left a scene with a Domme looking anything other than completely satisfied.
He could just imagine how many men would want Mistress Angela to work them over. It was a very sexy image. And surprisingly arousing, given that Xavier had never switched in his life. Looking at this statuesque vision, though, Xavier was pretty sure he’d drop to his knees if she demanded it. In fact, there was a thread, a trickle of thought, at the back of his head he couldn’t quite decipher. Desire for a beautiful woman, even a Domme, was nothing new. But this was different.
Xavier didn’t have time to work it out. He stood and walked over to Angela. He held out his hand. “You are stunning,” he said. It was a conventional compliment, but she flushed a lovely dark peach color. He clasped her hand, cool and soft, and led her over to the bar.