A submissive emerges and submits to her hidden desires!
If you ran into a lover from your youth, one who had stolen and then broken your heart, would you run?
Yes, it’s me, Connor McClane and that’s my first inclination when I see Katherine King again. It’s twenty years later and a lot has happened. I now run a publishing empire and am co-owner of the elite Masquerade Clubs.
Seduction isn’t necessary. We’re both Scorpios. The spark between Kat and me ignites into a flame, and I’m drawn to her like the proverbial moth. Our sex is electric, just like the promise of what we started so many years ago. Determined not to suffer the anguish of separation again, I propose to help Kat discover the truth of her submissive nature. Will she run again?
Throw my business partner and Katherine’s ex into the mix, both intent on driving us apart, and you have a cauldron of intrigue and searing sensuality just waiting to boil over.
Scorpio Awakens is the story of Connor and Katherine’s journey of exploration and discovery. Will they beat the odds?
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes that will stimulate your sexual imagination including ménage, dominance and submission, sex toys, etc. Feed your fantasies!
Publisher note: This is Book 2 in the Scorpio Saga. Each is a continuation of the previous book, and should be read in the numbered order.
“It’s been a long time.” I wanted to kick myself.
Connor held my eyes for a long moment and smiled.
“You left me without a word,” he said.
Intense. Always to the point. My turn.
“And you never came after me,” I retorted. Came after me? Where did that come from?
“If you’d wanted to be there, you would have stayed.”
I couldn’t stop staring. He truly was exquisite. Those mercurial eyes gazed steadily back. The half-smile that made a flutter of sunshine spread throughout my loins came and went. He undressed me with those penetrating eyes. I took another gulp of my drink.
More staring. It would appear he was still comfortable with silence. I most definitely was not, at least not with him. After what seemed like a lifetime, one in which I had more to drink, I looked at my watch and gasped.
“Oh my God. I’ve got to go. I’m giving a presentation in the morning.”
As we got up to leave, I stumbled. Oh shit, I’m drunk. And there sat Mister Calm-Cool-and-Collected acting as if he’d been drinking his beloved Pepsi.
Connor smiled, cupped my elbow, and walked with me to my room. As we rode up the elevator, I fought the desire to reach up and kiss those luscious lips, afraid of rejection. I fumbled with the key card. He reached over, took the card, and slid it through the lock.
I froze. Every nerve in my body tingled. He pushed open the door and gave me the key. Those intense eyes undressed me. I broke eye contact and walked into the room. When the door closed behind me, I released the breath I hadn’t realized I held. When
I turned to bolt the door, Connor leaned against it, watching me.
“Let me see you.” He spoke in a voice quiet with command.
Ignoring the dampness between my legs, I made a pact with myself—I was not going to allow this to happen.
“Connor, I’m not…We’re not…I mean…It’s been years since…”
I took a deep, calming breath. Twit. Here I was acting like the young woman I’d been on our first date, right down to the wetness spreading between my legs.
“Let me see you,” he repeated.
“Um, give me a minute.” I fled to the bathroom. Get it together, girlfriend.
I splashed cold water over my burning face in a vain attempt to sober up. I looked at the wide, brown eyes staring back at me in the mirror until calm settled over me. What to do? Should I send him packing? Did I even want to? Wow, wait a minute. Give your head a shake. Of course, I should stand up to him.
“Let me see you.” The words brushed through me washing away logical thought.
I kicked off my sandals and took an eternity washing my face and brushing my teeth, my mind at war with the sexual hunger burning through me. Part of me hoped Connor would get sick of waiting and leave. Part of me raced with excitement at the certainty of his command of himself and the situation. I straightened up with new resolve. If Connor was still there, I would ask him to leave.
He sat in the corner, hands steepled under his chin, and looked at me. Under his scrutiny, I instantly became a schoolgirl again, a child who had disobeyed. He shook his head slightly and with effortless grace, stood facing me.
“Come here.” His voice was quiet yet full of command.
As if hypnotized, I moved in front of him. The tips of his fingers traced my bare arms. Goose bumps immediately sprang to the surface and sexual electricity jolted through me. I lowered my head. He reached under my chin and forced me to look up, challenging me to react. He edged down the zipper of my little black dress and let it fall to the floor. Suddenly, nothing else existed outside my need to give myself to him, to have him take me, now.
The heat emanated from him as his fingers outlined the curve of my breasts. I shivered. How I loved his hands. His touch reminded me of the thing I craved. Thoughts that filled so many sleepless nights. Thoughts that I avoided admitting to myself—to surrender to his will.
He hooked his index fingers in the band of my bikini briefs and drew them down my legs, waiting until I stepped out of them. I did, like an obedient child wanting to please him.
Now I was naked and more than a bit self-conscious. Needing to do something with my hands, I reached out to unbutton his shirt.
He pushed my arms down to my sides, encouraging a passive acceptance of his control. I complied, allowing him to focus his attention on my breasts while I tried not to think about how I looked standing there. He played with each, first with nimble fingers and then with his lips. I couldn’t stop the moan of pleasure escaping as more moisture build between my legs.
“Lay down and spread your legs wide for me. Don’t move. Don’t speak.”
I started to protest. He put a finger over my lips and led me to the bed. I should object, but couldn’t. I closed my eyes and waited.
That was the moment I surrendered myself to him, and I liked it.
“Watch me,” he said. Again, his voice insisted he be obeyed.
I watched him undress. He had a splendid body, all smooth lines and sinew. I swear Michelangelo used him as the model for David, right down to the spring of brown curls framing the sculpted lines of his face. His engorged cock sprang to attention when it escaped from the prison of his pants.
Naked, he straddled me and pushed my arms up over my head. I closed my eyes.
“Look at me. I want you to watch me watching you,” he said