Mason has lost her husband and her desire to be a sub. Her Master died when her husband died and she swore she would never be a sub again. Callan is a Dom and he wants a permanent sub and a relationship, one that lasts forever. Mason and Callan are pushed together by a mutual friend who believes they are perfect together. But Mason is still scared. She is conflicted. She feels the need to submit but she has only ever been with her husband. Is she ready to move forward? Will Callan be the person to help her? Together they embark on a road to healing and love. This is the third and final book in this series and of course I loved it. Another great series from Raven.
Dance Studio, 3
There's dancing and then there's dancing. Mason is ready to move on, but Callan is ready to play once more. Now they have to decide if the dance is right for them.
After Mason's husband died, her interest in the lifestyle they had lived died with him. Until her meddling cousin sets her up with Callan Mackie.
Callan is a Dom without a sub, and he hasn't missed one. Until now that is. Mason hits all the right notes for him, and the chance to play with her isn’t to be missed.
The Dance Studio provides the perfect venue to see if Mason will bow to her partner.
Be Warned: BDSM, wax play
He stood just inside the door, and Mason became conscious of his gaze on her as she wandered around. The classy room, with deep rosewood furniture, sleek cabinets and an abstract painting of blues and orange which reminded her of a summer sunset over the Western Isles suited him. A tall coat stand with long hooks on it made her start, and she gave him a quick look. He leaned back on the door, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankles. The stance tightened his trousers over his body, and Mason couldn't help but notice how it stretched over his thick cock.
"Yes, it would make a superb cradle for me to tie you to, wouldn't it?" he said in a conversational tone. "The perfect height and shape. Maybe another time?"
There was no way her skimpy thong could contain her gush of arousal, and Mason forced herself not to cross her legs and rub her thighs together. Of course he noticed, and grinned.
"Is that thought making you all hot and wet, Mason? Of me tying you up and spanking you? Or using a nice stingy or thuddy flogger on you? I'm looking forward to finding out your likes and dislikes, and pushing you even further than you thought possible. What do you think?" He put his finger under her chin and forced her to look upward. "Tell me the truth. If I lift your skirt and put my hand inside you what will I find? I bet you're so wet I'd need no other lubrication to fuck you long and hard, would I? Even to take you over the desk. We don't have to go into the club, I could make you come so loud and long, your cries would drown out any other noise. So." He took his hand from her chin, and slipped two fingers under the collar of her dress. “Do we?"
Mason gulped. He stroked the slope of her breast, creating beautiful tingles that ran through her. Dare she submit?
Do it cara, it's what you are. The voice was inside her mind again. Time to move on.
Callan's hand moved once more and he crossed his arms. The reaction to the loss of his touch surprised her. She felt lost and alone. That plus the almost forlorn look on his face made her mind up. Mason slipped to her knees in front of him. Before she lowered her head, his cock was at eye level, and pushing hard against the cloth of his trousers. She imagined the way it would feel in her hand or mouth. Hot, hard, and if she tasted him, all male musk and saltiness. Mason shook with the need to experience both of those things, before he came inside her, filled her, and fucked her until they were both spent. It was up to her to show him she was eager and ready for whatever he desired to show and ask of her.
"Please, Sir." Her voice was husky and she cleared her throat. "I'm ready, and would like to try and see if we work as Sir and sub."
He stayed silent for so long, Mason was desperate to look up, to gauge his mood or intention. Somehow she managed not to, sure it was a test. Eventually, just as she was ready to scream, she felt his hand on the zipper of her dress.
"Then show me." He slipped the dress over her arms, and lifted her to her feet so it pooled around her on the floor. "Step out."
She obeyed without looking up. Once more he tilted her face toward him. "Good girl. Safe words red, yellow green?"
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Now?" he asked as he stroked his finger under her thong and scraped the entrance to her channel with his nail.
The sensations that delicate touch set off were perfect. Her body sang and she tightened her muscles on his digit as best she could.
"G-green sir." How her voice didn't tremble with passion when she spoke Mason had no idea. Here she was, standing in his office in her bustier and he was fully clothed. Public scening hadn't been part of her life, and she wasn't sure how she'd cope if it came to it. This was well public enough for now. Mason reasoned there must be people who had access to the room.
She was correct. Another door, one she hadn't paid much attention to opened. She shut her eyes.