As the owner of Elite Escorts, Micah Fox’s material needs are met, but money isn’t everything. Watching his friends all settle down makes him realize he needs a woman of his own. The one thrust into his life, however, is unable to tolerate physical contact. Not exactly the ideal submissive he can dominate. Can he truly be happy without kink in his life?

Faced with her new boss, Jasmine Swift experiences a hunger to touch—and be touched—for the first time in twelve years. Psychological baggage from her childhood has always hindered any hope of a normal relationship, let alone one with a man as dominant as Micah. Passion flares to life between them, however, and Jasmine blossoms under Micah’s touch.

When her past returns to haunt her present, it threatens everything. Love and peace can be found in true submission if only Jasmine can trust her Sir.

 

 

 

 

 

Tense silence zapped between us, but she didn’t lower her head like usual when she seemed uncomfortable. Her pale-green eyes peered at me with a hint of question. Insecurity. But the pupils dominated, and the pulse jumped in her neck.

“Have you dreamed about me touching you?” I heard myself ask.

So much for inappropriate.

“Yes,” she whispered.

I wouldn’t touch her, but I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to enjoy every fucking inappropriate bit of information I could get passed her lips. “How?”

“You mean how do you touch me in my dreams?” Her low, husky voice rushed the blood to my cock, but I didn’t bother trying to hide the fact she turned me on.

I nodded.

“Gently.” She swallowed, but held my gaze. “With your fingertips until I grow accustomed to your touch.”

“Where do I touch you?” My voice sounded strangled in my ears.

“Here.” She lifted her hand and glanced at her palm.

“Where else? Put your wine down and show me.” I relaxed back into the chair, legs spread, giving her an eyeful of the hard ridge lining my jeans.

Her attention drifted down between my legs, her lips parting on a sharp inhale as her trembling hand set the wine glass on the table beside her. When she sat back, she uncrossed her legs, but kept her thighs together, the darkness beneath the skirt beckoning to me. “H-here.” She trailed her fingers up her arm, over her collarbone where she lingered. Up her neck. Over her lips.

I groaned. “Where else do I touch you?”

She swallowed, gaze still on my cock, and ran her hand back down her neck and over the swell of her breasts.

“Show me.” My Dom voice took over, and she followed the command without hesitation, slipping her hand up inside her tank top.

Lower lip between her teeth, she squirmed on the couch, same as when I’d caught her drooling over sex toys online.

“Is my touch still gentle?” I asked, my attention glued to the hand moving beneath her shirt, hiding one of the hard nipples pressing against the cotton.

“N-not so much.” Her needy tone brought another groan to my lips.

“What else do I do in your dreams?”

Face red, she closed her eyes. “You suck on my breasts. Bite my nipples.”

“And do you like it?”

“Yes,” she gasped and clenched her legs together.

Fucking heaven, I mused, watching her touch her breasts. I’d never wanted a woman so much in my fucking life. “Are you turned on right now?”

She swallowed and nodded.

“Where else do I touch you, Jasmine?”

“D-down there.”

Fuck, yes. “Lift your skirt and show me.” Every tense muscle in my body ached to move, but I held myself still. Waiting.

She didn’t even hesitate, but shimmied the skirt up to her hips.

Pink, fucking panties.

With one finger, she skimmed down the lace covering her pussy from me.

“Goddamn,” I groaned, my own fingers digging into my knees.

She slid her fingertip beneath the edge of her panties and rubbed up over her clit, a gasp parting her lips and tipping her head back.

I found myself stroking my cock through my jeans. “Do I make you come in your dreams, Jasmine?”

“Yes,” she whispered, eyes still clenched shut.

“Show me how.”

With one hand, she pulled her panties to the side. Pink lips glistened beneath a thatch of blonde curls.

Drooling, I stroked myself and stared as she pressed two fingers of her right hand into her pussy.

She moaned, slowly fucking herself with her fingers, hips grinding her against her hand.

“I want to watch you come, Jasmine,” I murmured, lifting my attention to her face as little noises flew past her parted lips. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

Panting, she did as told, hazed, pale-green eyes peering my way. A sharp inhale lifted her chest, and her back bowed off my couch. “O-oh!” Her breath caught again, and she shuddered, crying out. I squeezed my cock to keep from blowing my load in my jeans, my blood rushing and ears ringing as she slowly settled, her breaths slowing. “If you ever decide you want me to touch you for real,” I murmured, “you only need to ask.”

 

Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.