Today’s the day! Indebted Heart is live! If you could see me now, you’d see a woman doing the happy dance in her computer chair…much to the dismay of her children. But since you can’t witness my awesome moves through the computer screen…take a look at Alex and Alyssa’s story.
Alex is one of the most laid back Dom’s I’ve written, but he is no less strict than any other. He is not to be crossed, but when he’s not laying down the law, he’s tender and loving. Alyssa’s not used to any of those traits, but she’ll have to get used to it if she’s going to make it work with him, and that’s a decision she needs to make.
Here’s a little excerpt to wet your appetite.
He wasn’t asleep. He was standing in the middle of the room, exactly where she had stomped away from him, holding his belt in his right hand. Her eyes darted to the loosely hanging leather at his side and then his expression. Dark. Extremely dark. His lips were pursed his jaw set tight, and his eyes fixated on her with a sternness she hadn’t believed him capable of until that moment.
“Uh-um.” She stammered standing just outside the bathroom staring at his hand that was swinging the belt and casually tapping it against his leg. “Uh.” What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she get a full word out, and why wasn’t he saying anything?
“I think I’ve been pretty patient. I haven’t demanded anything. I haven’t encroached on your plans, have I?” His voice held steady, no tremor or indecisiveness to it.
She swallowed. “Well. No, not really.”
“I haven’t told you what to do, what to wear, where to go, anything like that?” He took one step toward her and her stomach twisted.
“Not really.” She had to be honest. Other than his lines of questioning he hadn’t really made her do anything. Other than making her leave her apartment, which she had to be honest, wasn’t exactly the worst thing.
“Yet, when I try having a conversation about your health, your wellbeing—you feel it’s respectful to blow me off and stomp away. Slamming doors.” His tone didn’t waiver, but the volume had lowered. She found herself holding the hem of her shirt with both hands, and twisting the fabric with her fingers.
“Not when you say it that way,” She tried a smile, a little humor. It didn’t faze him or deter him, he took another step toward her. He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket anymore, she noticed. His button down shirt that was neatly tucked into his beltless slacks had been rolled up at the sleeves. She wanted to bolt back into the bathroom but her feet were being entirely too uncooperative. “Alex.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I told you. I’m not good at this.” His raised eyebrow told her it might not have been the best tactic.
“Good at what? Being respectful?” The slapping of the belt against this leg became more intense.
“The full time submissive thing. I’m not good at it. I told you that.” She really wished he wouldn’t take another step. One more and he’d be within touching distance and since her feet still wouldn’t obey her, she was sure he’d grab her.
“When we talked about us becoming a couple, us doing this, I told you I would help you with that.” He reminded her with a calm in his voice. He looked upset yes, irritated even, but not angry. Not out of control anger. She knew he was in complete control of himself, and even her with the way he kept looking at her. It was as if running wasn’t an option, her feet understood that before her brain did, apparently. The bastards.
“Well, yes. I remember.” Her answer came softly. He had said that, and she had agreed. She had always enjoyed the submissive side of herself. Not just sexually. She’d had enough play time at the dungeons to know she loved the kiss of the flogger, but it was when the scene ended that the real cravings began. She’d seen couples at the parties, even at Top Floor. The caring between the partners, the love, and respect the dominants showed their subs, and it was reciprocated. That’s what she craved. The dominance that continued after the flogging.
And here it stood. Right in front of her holding a leather belt.
“Have you ever been spanked, for punishment?” He asked, not moving toward her any more.
A little bit about me
Measha Stone lives in the western suburbs of Chicago with her husband and their children. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, and graduated Summa Cum Laude with a degree in Creative Writing from Southern New Hampshire University. Her vanilla writing has been published in the online magazine efiction and the DuPage Writers Group annual journal Possibilities. When she’s not writing, she’s reading and spending time with her kids- who are just as creative and crazy as her.
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