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Bending men to her will is nothing new for Vanessa Delcour, aka Mistress V—she's a full-time rep for pro athletes, a part-time owner of exclusive sex club The Den, and an experienced Domme. But when Holden Hauke comes looking for a discreet partner, Vanessa's concerned about his motives. Touching his training-toned body during a scene wouldn't exactly be a hardship, but taking him on crosses barriers between work and play that she's had in place for years.
From their first intense encounter in Mistress V's playroom, Hauke knows he can't let this chance slip away; he's found the woman he's always needed. Submissive or not, he's willing to push her every limit to prove how good they can be together.
New to The Den? Go back to the beginning with Bonds of Trust.
Now enjoy an excerpt:
This is a mistake. That thought had repeated in an insistent loop since he’d awakened that morning. Yet here he was anyway.
Holden Hauke resisted the urge to stride over to the large warehouse-style windows on the other side of the desk. What he should do was walk right out the door and not look back. Yet he remained in the cushy chair in front of the large wooden desk, waiting for his final entrance interview into The Den.
He squeezed his eyes tight, letting the anxiety nibble at his composure for a second before he relaxed his muscles and exhaled it away. A Dom was always in control. He had to show that if he wanted to pass the interview.
A tiny swarm of invisible ants crawled over his skin, every nerve ending on hypersensitive alert. He clenched his hands and bit down on the raw spot inside his cheek. The need to scream almost had him vaulting from the chair. And that exact need was why he remained sitting.
Why he’d submitted his application to The Den in the first place and was willing to take this stupid risk.
The door clicked open without warning, and a sudden burst of dance music from the main club area shot through the quiet room. He launched to his feet, swiping his palms down the smooth material of his slacks to clear away the dampness. Shoulders drawn back, chin lifted, he turned to greet Seth Mathews, club owner and the man who held the key to Holden’s admittance.
Only it wasn’t Seth who stood in the doorway. Not even close.
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