Rough Surrender by Cari Silverwood
One master, one woman who craves surrender, and a sky that will challenge them both.
At a time when airplanes are as new-fangled and sensational as the telephone, Faith dares to fly. The one territory she has not explored is her own sexuality. In Leonhardt she discovers the man who can teach her how a woman surrenders her body and her mind. However, Leonhardt has a shadowed past and his own learning to do. He doesn’t have the right to keep Faith from flying, even if he thinks airplanes are flimsy death-traps made of canvas, timber and their inventor’s prayers.
Faith has her limits, Leonhardt has his flaws, and sometimes the nicest people get murdered by unscrupulous bastards. Even if Leonhardt can save the woman he loves, the battle for Faith’s heart will be the hardest one of all.
WARNING: BDSM, anal sex, orgasms galore, and a Dom who likes to claim his property with pen, ink and bondage.
A Lyrical Press Historical Erotic Romance
ISBN: 9781616503666 | Length: 78,000 words | Ebook Page Count: 279 | Publication Date: July 4, 2012
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Copyright 2012, Cari Silverwood
All rights reserved, Lyrical Press, Inc.
With a last inscrutable glance in her direction, Mr. Meisner leaned forward. “I must be leaving.”
Faith clenched her teacup even tighter, denting her finger on the delicate handle. No. Not yet.
There was no polite way. Either she said this, or she let him walk away. Clearly he’d decided the rules of society were there to be obeyed.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “No.”
She sniffed, opened her eyes then looked up. “No. I don’t wish you to leave.”
His eyes changed from lukewarm to hot.
The iron of the seat met her back. Oh yes, definitely she was the keeper at the zoo and she’d just offered her own leg, medium-rare, to the lion.
“Exactly what are you saying, Faith?”
Heavens, does he want me to put it down in writing? On a dotted line?
He didn’t move at all. Nothing. No eyebrow moved, no crease appeared on his ever so majestic face.
The china clinked then rattled as she tried to settle her cup in the middle of the saucer. Did she have the gumption to do this?
“Come to my room.”
He leaned in. The chair squeaked. “You have no idea what you are playing with here.”
How did he do this? How? Flying her Bleriot was less nerve wracking. “I don’t?”
“No. You don’t. I have…different…tastes.”
Different? She didn’t even know what tastes she had. Where was the fairness in that? He made her ache with some…longing she couldn’t describe, and he’d deny her because of his tastes? She wanted his lips on hers. That much, she knew.
“I don’t care.” She toyed with the arch of the teacup handle.
He sat back. “Unnatural tastes, some might say. You don’t understand who I am.”
The other couple had gone, as had the solitary waiter.
The chair scraped as she rose. “Come to my room, Mr. Meisner, if you dare.”
The sound of Mr. Meisner drawing in his breath galvanized her, awakening every nerve. Oh. Yes. That had done it.
He stood, slowly, unfolding like a colossus. “Give me your key.”