Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
She’s new to the city, all alone. She doesn’t know who I am, but I’ve been watching her. Stalking her in the shadows, keeping her safe. Killing anyone who threatens her.
I’ve built a cage around her, luring her in. And when it’s time to reveal myself to her, she won’t be able to escape.
In every way, she will be mine.
His Perfect Darkness is a dark billionaire romance with intense, sensual themes. It is book one in a duet, so beware the cliff
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
Inara
The best thing about blindfolds is that every other sense is heightened. The silk swathes my face from eyebrow to cheek. No matter how I twist and turn, I see nothing but darkness.
There’s a flare of panic, but then I sink into stillness. I rest my forehead against the leather-padded cross and give myself over to the inevitable. My world narrows to the clink of the handcuffs above my head, the whisper of my satin nightie brushing against leather, and the hum of the heating unit on the wall. In the distance, so quiet it may only be imagined, the sound of soft footfalls in the hall beyond the closed door.
My wrists are bound to the arms of the St. Andrew’s Cross. I shift my weight from foot to foot, fidgeting as much as I can before the scene begins. My long hair is pinned well out of the way in a tight ballerina bun, leaving my neck and back bare. I’m wearing a black babydoll nightgown with spaghetti straps and a lacy hem that barely covers my ass. It’s as close to naked as I can stand.
The club assistant helped me with set up, secured me to the cross, blindfolded me, and left. I’ve only been alone for a few minutes, but it feels like hours. I’ve been itching for this scene for a long time. The need runs under my skin, pulsing, swelling, making it impossible to think or breathe. My recent move across the country just made it worse.
So, a little impatience now is warranted.
At least I’m only a few minutes out from getting the pain I need. The pain I crave. I only hope it’s enough to relieve the ache that lives inside me.
My skin prickles as the door behind me opens with an exhale that sends air wafting over my back. My scene partner has entered the room. There’s no way for me to know this, blindfolded as I am, but I sense that they’re taller than average. Their presence is powerful, weighty. Every molecule of air shifts to their side of the room.
“Hello.” A male voice, smooth and deep. The fine hairs on my nape rise and prickles spread down my arms. “Are you Swallow?” He uses my submissive pseudonym.
“Yes.” I don’t call him sir. He’s not my Dom. He’s a stranger to me. I filled out a request for a scene, specifying the details, and the club found a matching scene partner for me, someone to top me.
Our interaction will be nice and anonymous, just the way I like it.
There’s a pause, and I feel each individual goosebump on my back as my scene partner paces closer. He is tall. His breath comes from somewhere over my head.
There’s a slight click, like ice in a glass. But that’s impossible. There’s no eating or drinking allowed in the private room, not unless you’re indulging in food fetish play.
“You’ve requested a scene as follows: you enter the room after I’m already tied to the cross. You start with the flogger. Lightly at first to warm me up. After twenty minutes, you may continue or switch to a paddle. You continue until you hear my safe word.”
He’s reading out my request word for word. His voice is soft and lulling. Soothing. Beautiful. The butterflies in my stomach grow drowsy.
“‘You do not touch me.’” He stops as if he’s trying to understand what he’s just read. “Is that correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct.” Unusual but correct. As sexy as this stranger sounds, as much as I crave the connection of strong fingers on mine, both rough and gentle, I set my course long ago. No touching during kink. No matter how much I want it.
No matter how much I crave it.
“It’s also listed on your hard limits,” he says. “Skin-to-skin contact.”
I shift from foot to foot, impatient to get on with things. “That’s right.”
Another pause. Is he thinking how weird I am? Second guessing signing up with me? There’s no way to know, but I’m relieved when he moves on.
“What’s your safe word?” He knows it already; it’s on the request form.
“Elyria.”
“Elyria,” he repeats, drawing out each syllable. And then, “This is what you want?”
“Yes.”
He comes closer. I turn my head slightly as if I could see him, but the blindfold lets nothing in—no light, no shadow.