Happy middle of the week, folks. It's time to tease you again thanks to our awesome host, Sandra Bunino. If you're an author, then why not join us next week. We always have great fun.
Today, I'm handing my tease over to the wonderful Raven McAllan, who had a fabulous book released yesterday. Don't just take my word on it, though. Check out this exclusive tease!
He put his mug to his lips and drank. The ripples of the skin over his throat as he swallowed mesmerized Kristin. He caught her stare and winked. “Like what you see?”
He thinks he can sub? Kristin’s doubts and she accepted her disappointment increased. It was no good putting it off any longer. They might as well talk. Let him understand there was as much likelihood of him subbing as her winning Wimbledon, and then Flynn could go back to wherever he came from and she could pick the pieces up once more and do her best to move on—again.
She set her cup down on the table and tugged Flynn’s hair hard enough to sting. He looked up at her with mild surprise in his dark blue eyes. Kristin gave into temptation and pulled him toward her by her hands tight in his curls.
“Come here, on your knees.” He moved with alacrity, and knelt up in front of her. Nevertheless it was easy to see it wasn’t respectful or sub-like. It was more the actions of one person humoring another.
She wasn’t going to stand for that. He might not know what being a proper sub was, and either intentionally or not, mock her needs and ideals, but she wasn’t going to let him get away with it.
Very deliberately Kristin circled one of his nipples with the thumb and forefinger of one hand. The other she kept tight in his hair.
His eyes darkened almost to black, a sure sign he was beginning to get aroused. Or she amended, used to be.
“Okay, Flynn. I think it’s time to come clean don’t you? Why are you here and what do you really want?” Kristin pinched his nipple furthest from his scar so hard her fingers went white.
The pain went beyond almost anything Flynn experienced. Even the peppering with a BB gun his best friend at school had given him by accident. Sadly—or luckily maybe—not worse than when he was given his new scar, which began to throb. This he knew damn well was no accident. The throb came every time he remembered how he got the half healed injury, and the pain inflicted by Kristin was deliberate. The gleam in Kristin’s eyes told him that. He actually felt the color leech from his now-clammy skin. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and he swallowed in an attempt to focus. If she was trying to put him off his course of action she was going the wrong way about it. Flynn began to recite his twelve times table in his head. Anything to push the insistent pain to the dark recesses of his mind where he could block it out and ignore it. Hell, he’d had plenty of practice in doing that over the last months.
Just as he was about to break, to shout and swear, and beg for mercy, her fingers moved off his nipple, with one last tug of his hair. Flynn sagged, and let his head fall forwards. The pain increased as blood rushed into the hard nub once more. It wasn’t pleasant.
Fuck, shit, hell on wheels and bloody Nora. He swore silently. And they say this is a good pain? Not at all, and boy do I know pain. His scars now both ached in protest, but Flynn was damned if he would show how much it hurt.
“Look at me Flynn.” Her voice was hard.
Flynn lifted his head. He didn’t like the expression on her face. She looked anguished.
“What, Love. Why so sad?”
“What do you want?” Her tone matched her voice. “I want you. To be with you, as your sub.” “Flynn do you even know what you mean?” Kristin stood up and
began to pace the room. Six steps one way and four the other. She came to a stop in front of him where he still knelt next to the settee. It was playing hell with his scarred knees. Not for the first time Flynn was glad his action-man days were over. No more running, dodging the baddies, and hoping your insurance was up to date.
“I think so.” He knew it was now or never. “I want you to be in charge of us. I’ve read and researched, and think I can do it.”
She shook her head and tugged on his hair again. This time the stings and tingles translated into arousal and his cock perked up. “Stand up and follow me.”
As before she didn’t wait to see if he obeyed her. More amused than anything, Flynn got to his feet, and bit back a moan as his dodgy knee protested at the cavalier treatment dished out to him. Of course she heard and swung round. Even in his discomfort he was amused to notice her hair had fallen out of its confines once more and rippled over her back and shoulders like a bright red waterfall.
He grimaced. “Wonky knees. One without a cartilage, and one just arthritic. The relic of too many trips to unsavory places.” Flynn rolled his eyes as she bit her lip. “How I earned my wages, Love. It’s nothing.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“Don’t call me love,” she said evenly.
“You are my love.”
“You can call me, My Lady.” The tone was very much take it or
leave it. “Now let’s go and discuss what you think you need and what I know I want.”
Flynn followed her once more. Along the corridor and into a small square room, which was bare of all furniture except a floor-to-ceiling cupboard. Without speaking, Kristin opened the door and took something out. The way she stood and angled the door, Flynn couldn’t see what it was.
“Close your eyes, please.” Flynn began to sweat. You can do it. It’s Kristin. He gulped and closed his eyes. Those bloody spots appeared again dancing around behind his eyelids. His heartbeat sped up and his breath sounded harsh in the quiet room.
The buzzing in his ears got louder, and this time Flynn knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. He couldn’t even find the strength to open his eyes. The last thing that impinged on his brain was, he thought he muttered something, and put his arm out to stop himself falling, but he had no idea if he succeeded.
Harsh cursing, and a cool cloth over his forehead were the first things that registered.
“Flynn.” Someone tapped his cheek. “Come back now.”
In his befuddled state he thought it was Kristin, but she’d left him...or he’d left her. His brain wouldn’t process his thoughts. She was somewhere else and he was hiding and...
“Flynn.” The tap was more of a smack and the voice definitely peremptory.
“Don’t call me that. Ah shit, come on, Flynn, open your eyes.”
“Must I?” He opened one eye gingerly, and shut it again. Okay it was bright sunlight not a spotlight, but it was still too much for his brain to process.
“You must. Open your eyes or I’ll slap you hard. Do it now.”
Her urgent tone filtered through the fog that surrounded him. Flynn moaned, and rolled onto his side. “G’way. Wanna sleep.”
“No, you don’t.”
His body moved from side to side as hands shook him. “Stop it. I’m a journalist that’s all. Tell me wha...” It was all too much. To his utter disgust Flynn began to cry, and couldn’t stop. His body heaved, and he tried to curl up into a tiny ball.
“Ah, love, no... No you’re with Krissie, wake up and look.” Soft hands cuddled him to a warm body, and he’d swear his head rested on breasts. “Come on now, look it’s Krissie. You’re safe with me.”
It was the nickname that penetrated through his horrible memories. Flynn shook as he forced himself to move out of the abyss and into the present. “My Lady?” Now where the hell did that come from?
Kristin McCrory would never in a million years have thought her ex-husband would show up on Ballingal and profess his need to sub for her. Flynn is the ultimate stubborn Alpha male, and his refusal to even discuss her need to be in charge had already cost them their marriage. That, and his apparent need to seek out the most dangerous place to report on in his work as a television documentary reporter.
However, the Flynn she knew is not the Flynn who stands before her now. This Flynn is a broken man and she can’t just turn him away. As an Empath and mind reader, Kristin can sense his emotional and physical pain. It means Kristin feels even more drawn to the man she loves, and their connection is as strong as ever.
Love is worth fighting for after all, and Flynn finds new strength in his submission.
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Stay naughty, folks.