In His Silks
Author: Patricia D. Eddy
Release Date: June 10, 2014
Genre: Erotic Suspense
Blurb:
Alexander recognizes the untrained submissive inside Elizabeth immediately. The golden-haired beauty consumes his thoughts and dreams like no woman ever has. He wants her in his silks, bound to his bed, screaming his name as he pleasures her. Can a woman with her strength and her scars trust him to be her Dom? Can she trust him with more?
When danger comes for Elizabeth, Alexander is there. Forced to rely on this man who both thrills and frightens her, will she embrace her submissive side? Will she give him her trust? Her heart? Will she let Alexander bind her In His Silks?
*This book is for mature audiences only due to several hot scenes of bondage, spanking, and mind-shattering orgasms. All participants are over 18 and all sex is completely consensual.
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Excerpt:
The snow started to fall around mid-afternoon, but she
barely noticed. Her back ached. The tension behind her eyes spurred her on.
After dinner, she brought her laptop to bed. She was surrounded by tax forms that
she’d printed out from the Internet and filled in from memory. She’d checked
and rechecked the math and she knew that she’d filled out the returns correctly
in the first place. It hadn’t been her mistake. At least not when it came to
the Red Sox. So why had they paid more than three million extra in taxes? She
was so distracted by the numbers that she didn’t see the caller ID when she
answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Elizabeth. I have missed hearing your voice.” Alexander’s
deep tones sounded odd, echoing over the line, but the joy in his voice was
hard to mistake.
“Oh, hi. Are you still in London? You sound so far away.”
“As do you, chérie.
But not physically. You are distracted. Another book?”
“No, I’m—” This wasn’t his concern. If he knew, he’d interfere.
Rich and powerful men were like that, she’d learned long ago. Her father never
could leave well enough alone either. “It’s nothing. It was a long day.”
“What did you do? And, if you would indulge me, are you in
bed?”
“Excuse me?”
Alexander cleared his throat. “It is 7 a.m. here, Elizabeth.
I am sitting here in my hotel room after another sleepless night aching to know
what you are doing. What you are wearing. Anything about you. I cannot stop
thinking about you.”
“Alexander, we can’t do this. I’m . . . what I mean to say
is that . . . shit. Men like you don’t date women like me. You shouldn’t be
thinking about me at all.”
“Women like what? Intelligent? Witty? Am I some sort of
cretin? An ogre with such poor manners that I would embarrass you at dinner?”
“No, but I’ve been in your type of social circle before.
Long ago. You need someone who’ll stand up to scrutiny in the press. Someone
who doesn’t live on Hollander Street and shop at Goodwill. Regardless of my
former station in life, right now I don’t have a job and my bank account is
hemorrhaging.” And I’m involved in a
sticky situation with your accounting firm.
“I do not care what your financial situation is,” he
snapped. His voice softened. “That came out wrong. I care very deeply that you
are struggling, Elizabeth. But not for the reasons you believe. Do you know how
long it has been since I found a woman I could converse intelligently with? A
woman who did not want me only for my bank account? My position in life?”
“I don’t know. The society pages aren’t my home. They’re
yours. Didn’t you date Pippa for a time? How am I supposed to follow that?”
“You don’t have to. Pippa is a dolt and a bore. I did accompany her to the theater once at
my mother’s urging, The Book of Mormon,
but Pippa found it offensive and boring. I
thought it was hilarious. Nary a peck passed between us.”
“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, Alexander. I’ve
no claim on you.” She didn’t want to hear about his dates, whether they were
innocuous or salacious.
“Bugger it. Can we simply chat? I have several social
obligations this morning, none of which promise to offer me anything
stimulating in the way of conversation. Being needled by my mother’s old bitty
friends is not my idea of a rousing good time. I hoped you would provide a
bright spot in my day. A bit of sunlight amid all of this dreary rain we are
having in London. And I hoped that you would agree to have lunch with me on
Monday when I return.”
“It’s not a good idea,” she said quietly.
“Lunch is almost always a good idea.”
Elizabeth couldn’t stop herself from laughing at the
matter-of-fact tone he’d used. “Touché. Skipping meals is often a necessity,
but never a good idea. Still, what are you expecting from me?”
He deflected. “I enjoy hearing you laugh. Will you stay up
for a bit? I realize it is late there.”
“I don’t have a job. There isn’t exactly a reason for me to
get up early in the morning. Why will your mother’s friends needle you?”
“Because I am thirty-five-years-old and have not had a
relationship that lasted more than three dates in almost a decade. My mother is
nearly eighty-four now and she feels as if she is entitled to a grandchild.
Neither my brother nor I are inclined to give her one.”
“Your brother is older?” She set aside her laptop. River had
taken residence on the piles of papers she’d been working on. Elizabeth slid
down so she was curled on her side and laid the phone on her ear. The cat
rolled over and purred.
“Yes. He just turned forty. We both have certain . . .
unconventional requirements in a partner. Nicholas needs a woman with an
extreme submissive nature. He lives his life as a Master. You know what that
is, yes?”
“You’re talking about BDSM.” Something in Elizabeth’s core
warmed at the thought, but she didn’t know why. She’d always preferred her sex
vanilla and quick. Orgasms were nice, but they were messy and usually left her
wanting.
“Yes. But while Nicholas wants a complete power exchange, I
do not. I prefer a true partner. One who enjoys my silks, the tools I use as a
Dom—for I am one as well—but who does not wish me in control of her life
outside of the bedroom. Only her sexual satisfaction.” His voice oozed heat and
Elizabeth squirmed under her cheap cotton sheets.
“Oh.”
“Does this frighten you, Elizabeth?”
“No. Because I’m not the one for you. I’m not a submissive,
Alexander. I’ve thought that it might be fun to be blindfolded once or twice,
but that’s as far as I’d ever take it.”
“You are indeed a submissive, chérie. I knew it the very first time I spoke to you. When I return
. . . I will show you the truth of your nature, if you will allow it. I admit
that the vision of you in my silks has haunted my dreams each night since we
met. Perhaps this is why I have not slept.” He sounded amused. A knock echoed
through the phone. “I will be a moment, Elizabeth. I believe my breakfast has
arrived.”
Elizabeth hung up on him. How dare he? She was no one’s
plaything or wet dream. Especially not his. She fired off a quick text.
I’m not
yours, Alexander. If you’d like to ‘chat’ as friends,
that’s one thing, but nothing will ever come of it.
No more talk of sex, or submissives, or whatever the hell your silks are.
And stop fantasizing about me when you jerk off. I’m going to bed now.
that’s one thing, but nothing will ever come of it.
No more talk of sex, or submissives, or whatever the hell your silks are.
And stop fantasizing about me when you jerk off. I’m going to bed now.
The phone rang again immediately, but Elizabeth sent it to
voice mail. Two more texts came through.
Please do
not deny me the only light I have had in my days,
Elizabeth. Your voice, your wit, your sense of humor.
Elizabeth. Your voice, your wit, your sense of humor.
I am sorry
that I have offended you. You unsettle me.
A feeling I am quite unused to.
A feeling I am quite unused to.
She turned the phone off completely.
About the Author:
Patricia D. Eddy has been a writer all of her life. She used to sit at her parents' kitchen counter at an Apple IIe typing out short stories. She even wrote a few on their old typewriter. But it wasn't until NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) in 2011 that she ever came close to finishing a story she started.
Once that dam broke, the flood waters never receded. Patricia sits down to write every evening after dinner and quite often sees midnight come and go before she heads to bed. She doesn't sleep much. But she wouldn't have it any other way.
In her spare (HA!) time she runs, bikes, swims, yogas, pilates-es, reads, and is terribly addicted to Doctor Who and Sherlock. Apparently she has a thing for quirky British men.
Once that dam broke, the flood waters never receded. Patricia sits down to write every evening after dinner and quite often sees midnight come and go before she heads to bed. She doesn't sleep much. But she wouldn't have it any other way.
In her spare (HA!) time she runs, bikes, swims, yogas, pilates-es, reads, and is terribly addicted to Doctor Who and Sherlock. Apparently she has a thing for quirky British men.
Connect with Patricia
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