Conversations in a Sex Shop

One more day until the release of His Forbidden Submissive! Are you as excited as I am? *grin*

Probably not, but a girl can dream, can't she.

For today's countdown fun, I've got another excerpt for you. Like the blog title suggests, this scene shows a conversation between our hero, Brock, and his forbidden sub, Viv, and yes, they're in a sex shop, LOL.

Enjoy!

Viv looked herself over in one of the trifold mirrors in the Restrained Fantasies gift shop.

And grimaced.

A blood-red leather bodice squeezed around her torso, lifting and displaying the girls in all their round splendor. A matching miniskirt wrapped her middle, barely covering her ass. Knee-high boots rounded out the outfit.

Wow. Just wow. Did Brock really expect her to wear this in public?

She plopped onto the fitting room bench. God, this was all so unreal. Last week, she’d been putting the finishing plans on her stupid revenge sex plan, and now here she was, sitting in a BDSM sex shop. Amazing how quickly things could spin out of control.

Despite the incredible sex they’d shared in Brock’s office, she was still so shaky on this whole BDSM thing. She just didn’t know how to reconcile the fact that she was stepping into a relationship with a man who practiced a sexual lifestyle she might never be okay with. Letting him bind her hands while he made her come was a far cry from the things he’d mentioned that went on inside Restrained Fantasies.

Pain play? Bondage and discipline? Spanking? Dominance and submission? She didn’t really have a clue what all those things entailed but most of them frightened her. She’d spent most of her adult life trying not to let her husband control her, but now she was willingly walking into a BDSM club with a man who made no qualms about calling himself a Dominant.

What exactly did that say about her state of mind?

A soft knock sounded against the dressing room door. “Viv?” Brock called. “Are you dressed?”

“In theory.” She pushed to her feet, looked her outfit over again, then let him in. “Although I don’t feel dressed.”

Desire darkened his eyes—then his appearance arrested her attention. He’d traded in his vanilla outfit too, but unlike her, “dressed” was most definitely overstretching the capacity of the term. Compared to him, she wore a flippin’ muumuu.

Her greedy gaze took in every leathery, dreamy plane of his body. He was rocking a pair of leather pants that totally accentuated his massive package. A studded belt wrapped his trim waist, accentuated by hooks and chains that gave him a not-quite-menacing look. As for a top?

His tats were his top.

“You look incredible.” She pressed her palms eagerly against his naked torso and she had to fight the urge to trace the lines of the tattoo swirling over the right side of his chest and shoulder with her tongue.

“I think that’s my line, pet, because damn…you’re a walking hard-on.” He stepped back then made a twirly motion with his right hand. “Turn so I can see the rest.”

She spun slowly, partly to tease him and partly because her boots were a bitch to move in, but judging by the look of need on his face, the knee-highs were well worth the effort.

“Very, very nice.” He pulled her in for a hard, yet brief, kiss. “There won’t be a Dom in there who won’t be angling to get their hands on you.”