It's time for #MidWeekTease again.
Where we get the chance to tease and tantalise you with a snippet from a book or WIP.
Carrying on with my blast from the past theme, here's one more tease from The Dommes of Ballingal: Kristin
(cover design: Christine Kirchoff)
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.
“Bring those, please.” She didn’t wait to see
if he would do as she said, but turned her back on him and began to walk like a
ship in full sail back up the path toward the cluster of stone buildings a few
hundred yards up the hill. The dozen or so other visitors scattered in various
directions as Flynn slung his bag over his shoulders, picked up the boxes, and
walked three strides behind her.
Is this
welcome to a sub’s paradise? Fuck that for a game of soldiers, or subs. I might
say I’ll sub, but there’s subbing and subbing.
“There isn’t, you know.” Kristin had stopped
and turned toward him. Flynn missed bumping into her by inches.
“Eh?” He rocked back on his heels and held on
to the boxes for grim death. It wouldn’t be a very auspicious start to drop
them.
“There’s just subbing where I’m concerned. One
way.” She paused and ran one long pillar-box-red fingernail over his cheek. “My
way.” She turned and carried on walking.
Flynn shook his head. Either he’d been talking
out loud or she was a mind reader. Hadn’t he discovered in his research that
really there were as many ways of kink as there were people?
“Mind reader,” Kristin called over her
shoulder. “And I’m not other people.”
Fuck,
and if you’re reading this be warned, Mrs. McCrory. Sub to you I may be,
doormat I won’t.
There was no answer. So it was selective
thought reading then?
“No, I chose not to answer.” Kristin stopped
outside a bright yellow door, with baskets of spring flowers on either side of
the porch. “You’ll submit to me and in my way, or you won’t, Flynn. The choice
is yours. We’ll discuss it later. Here’s Nicole’s place.”
He blinked and raised his eyebrows. What was he
supposed to say to that? “Very nice.”
Kristin dropped the post sack a few inches from
his toes. He was glad he had sturdy shoes on, and he didn’t flinch.
“I hope you think so. It’s the bed and breakfast—guest
house. Where, I assume you have a booking?”
Flynn shook his head. He loved the way her eyes
glittered, and her fingers twitched. Green eyes, red hair, and a temper to
match. Oh so stereotypical, and great fun to light the flare and watch the
sparks fly. He was adept, or he amended to himself, had been, adept at ducking.
“A very nice lady called Justine told me it was
full and I’d be stopping with you.”
Her mouth dropped open and Flynn grinned. It
wasn’t often he had ever been able to surprise her. “Didn’t you know?” he asked
in as innocent a voice as he could muster.
“No I did not.”
If she could conjure up frost, he reckoned he’d
have frostbite, or icicles on his dick.
“And you are not stopping with me.”
Flynn put the boxes down, very carefully. He
felt as if he was about to walk on eggshells. “I’ve paid my dues, surely? Three
years I’ve given us. Now I’m ready.”
“You’ve given us?” Her tone was incredulous and
her dark eyebrows disappeared under the carroty red fringe of her hair. The two
colors should have seemed incongruous, but Flynn hardly noticed. She’d dyed her
eyebrows and eyelashes ever since he’d met her.
“Given
us?” Her voice rose. “Get real and open your tight little mind, Flynn. You’ve
given me fuck all, except heartache. I vowed when you walked away I wouldn’t
cry one single sodding tear. And you know?” She poked him in the chest. The
look in her eyes made it clear she would have preferred to use a knife, not her
finger. “I didn’t. Not one.”
A lump wedged in Flynn’s throat. She hadn’t
been upset? He’d gone on a misery-fest for a month, and eventually been dragged
out of his bed by his Director. Was it all a mistake? Should he turn round and
sit on the jetty until the boat came back? No,
no not that. I need her.
“You know why, Flynn?” She poked him once more,
and the pain hit his heart and shattered it into tiny pieces of guilt.
He shook his head, scared if he spoke his voice
would break as well as his heart.
“I’ll tell you then, shall I? Because I shed
fucking millions, that’s why. I was a mess, and if it hadn’t been for Justine,
god knows where I’d be now.”
It might be horrible news, and he did feel
awful, but deep inside, Flynn had a tiny glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe,
something could rise out of the ashes of their relationship?
Flynn swallowed. “You’re—” He cleared his
throat to try and make his cotton wool tongue work. “You’re too strong to do
anything silly.”
She curtsied mockingly. “I’m glad you realize
that, Flynn. Because if you’re serious about subbing to me, we’ve got a lot to
talk about.”
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Happy reading,
love Raven x
