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Her Prince, Her Master by Dorothy Strangelove
Steamy romance

Category: Romance Books, eBooks & Novels
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Synopsis

Reader age rating 17+


Eve is a woman who desires to be dominated and finds her perfect partner in Jonny, a mysterious man who she met in her late teens, who comes back into her life unexpectedly. But their passionate love affair is threatened by Jonny's past - he is involved in the dangerous and shadowy world of espionage and events take a turn that could tear them apart forever...

Excerpt:

Where does it all begin? I ask myself this question with my back against the wall as I look around for a clock but there's no clock in this room. Blood is drying on my white shirt, I see it on my sleeve, on the back of my hand, and I can feel it drying on my cheek as well. I'm covered in blood and none of it is mine.

I don't want to wash it off. I don't want to leave this room, or do anything until I know...

I look down at my black mini skirt, only a short while ago he ran his hand up my leg and I got that warmth flooding over me that only a lover's touch could bring and now I was here, in this room, the silence and the locked door reminding me that this day coming had always been a possibility and now it was here, it was real, it was something he had told me could happen one day, but I had never taken it in, because I didn't want to, I could not take it in that one day his past would catch up with him.

But it did.

It seemed so unreal. We were sitting in that restaurant at a table in the corner and we were talking over dinner like any other couple in love. It was so normal, with nothing to even hint at what was to come. When the waiter told him there was a phone call he told me wouldn't be a minute, thought it was work - they always knew where to find him.

Until it happened, I suppose I was in the same dream world I had always been in, the one that said the same words over and over in my head each time I thought about it - the night we met, the first time we kissed and I held him, countless times I had been entwined in his arms, even yesterday when I woke beside him, right up to this day, when I had exchanged a glance with him and told myself those same four words that went over and over in my head like a mantra: it will never happen.

And then, today, as he left the table, I had reached out for my wine glass, lifted it from the table and two sounds, close together, bang-bang had come from far off. It sounded far off because there was a wall between the entrance and the restaurant. It didn't sound like gun fire from the movies. Just a jarring bang-bang, and with it a realisation that tore into me as if I might as well have taken those bullets myself.

I don't know where my glass fell. I just know I was holding it and then I didn't have it any more. I got up pushing the table forward and I know the chair went back with a clatter. I don't recall walking to the entrance. I remember pushing the heavy, glass panelled door and with the effort of doing so all the breath seemed to leave me and I couldn't breathe in.

He was lying across the carpet. Blood was staining his shirt. It was running underneath him as well, staining the carpet deep red yet still coming out of him. There was a shattered mirror behind us, the glass cracked and broken like a spider web meeting in the focus point of a bullet hole. It was a floor to ceiling mirror and as I sank to my knees and cradled him in my arms it didn't even register that I was kneeling in broken glass...blood and broken glass had been present on the night we met but at this time, I didn't think of that, the coincidence dawned on me later.

And now I was here, locked up in a room with no clock and being told nothing.

Finally the door opened again. A woman came in, late thirties, older than me, with dark green eyes and long, glossy dark hair. She didn't look as self assured as last time I'd seen her and I noticed there was a cloud of emotion in her eyes - something which I would not have expected from her, which made me even more afraid for him.

She sat down and looked across the table at me.

"Eve,” She said, "I need you to tell me everything you can remember about today -" "I know who you are. Your name's Celeste."

She blinked, surprise registering in her eyes. "How do you know that?"

And I thought, she wasn't all that bad, not quite the dragon he had described to me. There was softness in her eyes and as the light shone down on her face I noticed although she had cleaned herself up there were definite marks of smudged make up - she had been crying.

"He told me you're his boss." "What else did he tell you?" "I know he's a spy."

Celeste stared at me for a moment. "He told you he's a spy?”

I nodded.

"We have been having a relationship for almost a year. And no, there was nothing out of the ordinary about today - or any other day. He always met me when it was safe...”

The pain was building up in me again and I gave into it, letting out a sob as I spoke. "Please," I begged her, "Just tell me if he's alive."

Again I saw emotion in her eyes. She looked away for a moment, and then drew in a deep breath.

"Eve, I'm so sorry, but I'm not allowed to say anything. You know about the nature of his work - or at least you have some idea, so you know I can't tell you any details. And don't talk to anyone else about it, ok? I'm sorry this has happened, I'm truly sorry for you, Eve - but there's nothing I can do."

"Please, please, you have to tell me!"

I realised this was a moment when she really hated her job. She blinked away tears and forced herself to hold back her own emotion.

"We have some eye witness accounts of the shooting, Eve. Your boyfriend was employed in very dangerous, very secret work and because of his role within this organisation it's made him enemies, very bad enemies. The shooting today was a reprisal attack. The man who shot him

was sent to kill him; he was a professional hit man. From the way we've pieced it together, he realised what was happening and struggled with the gunman - that's why he was shot at close range. You saw what that bullet did to him, you was there. I shouldn't even be telling you that much and I'm sorry I can't tell you any more."

She let me go after that, gave me a shower and a change of clothes and then she arranged for a car to take me back home.

As she walked me out of the building, she paused to ask me something. "Did he ever say anything about me?"

I saw no point in lying. I was deep in sorrow and she was talking about him as if he was gone, at least, that was the way I took it. And even though he had often exchanged words with her and they hadn't seen eye to eye I guessed she deserved some honesty.

"He said you could be a right snappy cow, but I don't think he meant it." Celeste's eyes filled with tears.

"Yes, he did mean it.” She said, and although she managed a smile her voice was choked up.

When I got home I didn't fall apart until I was behind my own locked front door.

I sat on the stairs and cried, then I went up to the bedroom where the sheets still smelled of my lover's skin.

My lover and my Master. The only man who had ever truly loved me and the only man who I had ever known who could dominate me with a touch or a few firm but gentle words. For him cuffs and bonds were merely for play, only when he felt like adding something extra for his own amusement. My devotion to him ran so deep I did not need ties to force my compliance. His word served as unquestionable power, rendering my submission to him complete and immediate. His wish was my command, on hearing his word I would obey. This was second nature to me and I did it feeling blessed to have him governing me, Mastering me. His ownership over me was a divine blessing bestowed upon my life.

Beside the bed was a slender black leather collar with the word SUBMISSIVE written on it in silver lettering. In the drawers beside the bed were our collection of sex toys and each one with memories all of its own. He had known how to push me right to the limit of my endurance and still that little bit further. He had been the only man who had known when I was ready, who had simply whispered, "You can come now," and I'd come like he had pushed a button and the orgasm would leave me weak and trembling, then afterwards, I was warm and tingling and finally when he drew me into his arms and told me he loved me, I knew I was truly loved. And I couldn't take the thought that he was gone.

Again, I asked myself, how did it all this begin?

The answer was: A long time ago, I'd fallen in love with him on the night we met. And it would be almost two decades until we met again.