In His Hands
By Raven McAllan
In Monsoon season, in Hong Kong, anything can happen… Even so, the last thing Caness Clacher expected was to meet a Dom. The very man who made her want to sink to her knees and say, ‘Yes, Sir’. Unbeknown to her Patrick Lim had waited a long time to claim Caness as his sub. Without electricity and with a monsoon raging, it’s time to explore their desires. Will the elements work in their favor or not… Only time—and a scene—will tell.
Well what can I say?
Hi this is Raven. All over excited to be part of the Dominant Persuasions Anthology. The other authors are so awesome and on my fan girling list, that I went as my gran would say, all over fuzzy when I got the chance to be a part of the antho.
When I first heard about it, I really worried my story In His Hands might not be hot enough. (Yeah, I worry) But luckily it was judged to be a good fit and I did a high five and opened a bottle of fizz.
It’s set in Hong Kong, perhaps my favorite city in the world, during the approach of a monsoon. It’s a city I know quite well, love to explore and gives me lots of ideas. Perfect for a bit of kink.
Luckily my characters agreed with me, and so Caness and Patrick let me tell their story.
(Sadly the alley I’ve set Patrick’s shop in doesn’t have a jeweler’s with Kinky jewelry in the window, but hey a girl can dream, eh?)
A wee tease for you…
“Sodding monsoon, stops everything.”
He looked down the alley toward the main road, where the traffic was queuing in a never-ending stream of vehicles streaming past, even if it was at a slow, slower or stop and start pace. “Everything?”
His raised eyebrow made her chuckle. “Almost everything. But the two hour get home or be stranded warning was over an hour ago. I’m on borrowed time. Fuck. Look, Mr. Whoever, nice to meet you, and all that, but seriously I aught to go.”
“You aught to be spanked for language like that. Don’t let me hear it again. Unless of course you want a spanking. That would be my pleasure.”
To judge by the gush of liquid that dampened her panties yet again, it would be her pleasure as well.
Oh lordy. “Look you still haven’t told me who you are, so this seems a bit stalkerish, and well, scary. Corporal punishment scary.”
His eyes widened and he waggled one long finger in front of her face. An intricately carved ring of twisted silver shone in the ever-increasing gloom. “You don’t really think that. I watched your face when you realized what this jewelry was for.” He took hold of her chin and pressed a swift kiss to her lips. Before she even registered what he intended to do, he’d moved back and straightened. “Patrick Lim at your service. Now, pet, get your sweet booty inside, and let me lock up.”
So I wasn’t far wrong.
“This is yours?” She gestured at the gallery.
“All mine.” He patted her bum, somewhat harder than a gentle move it tap, but not a full on spank—more was the pity. “I don’t ask twice and I do expect to be obeyed.”
He does? Lord almighty. “What are you?” she blurted, and could have cut her tongue out at her tumbled breathless words. They would set a good impression, not. “Are you a silversmith?”
He turned and did that bloody sexy one eyebrow raised thing again, before he inclined his head. “A master.” He invested the word with something indefinable. Whatever it was made her swallow and drop her gaze to his feet, clad, she’d bet her weeks salary, in Gucci loafers.
“Oh I like that.” His words were soft but the intent in them made her lift her head sharply and shut her eyes briefly.
If he meant what she thought he meant, she was in big trouble. Caness shook her head again and wet strands of hair flicked water towards him, splattering his suit and cheeks. Droplets ran down her chest and pooled in her cleavage. That was all she needed.
He watched one errant raindrop chase another one across her skin and under the neck of her blouse. “That is where my tongue should be.”
“Look,” Caness said desperately. “I’ll be fine if I go now. I don’t want to take you out of your way.”
He turned toward the window, and lifted the silver jewelry out. “Give me five minutes and we’ll be on our way. And before you come up with excuses, I know where you live. Glorianna Villas in Sai Kung.”
“How? No don’t tell me, Anthony told you.”
Patrick pulled the window blinds down, and locked the door. “Amongst other things.” He looked over his shoulder at her as he moved into a back room. “Here you are, catch.” A second later a fine linen towel flew through the air toward her. Caness caught it automatically.
“He worries.” His voice became faint and she heard the clank of a heavy metal door. Presumably he was putting the jewelry in the safe. It must be worth thousands.
Damn, I’d love to have tried it on.
“What other things?” she asked suspiciously as she tried to dry her hair, cleavage, and legs. Wet stockings were the pits, but there was no way she was going to take them off. No doubt he’d come back in and see her with her skirt bunched up around her ass and her lacy underwear on show. Caness was a great believer in the motto, “if you look good under your camouflage you’ll feel good and act it.” She might have to present an image of a banker on the outside—whatever that image was—however what she wore underneath her prim and proper suits was anything but.
“That you’re denying your true needs because there’s no one strong enough to take you on.”
And that is a wee tease from my story.
No idea yet except, I’m growing old disgracefully and loving it.
Dh and I live on the edge of a Scottish forest, and rattle around in a house much too big for us.
Our kids have grown up and flown the nest, but roll back up when they want to take a deep breath and smell the daisies so to speak.
I write in my study, which overlooks the garden and the lane. I’m often seen procrastinating, by checking out the wild life, looking—only looking—at the ironing basket and assuring tourists that indeed, I’m not the bed and breakfast. That would mean cooking fried eggs without breaking the yolks, and disturbing the dust bunnies as they procreate under the beds. Not to be thought of.
Being able to do what I love, and knowing people get pleasure from my writing is fantastic. Long may it last.
- http:/ /www.ravenmcallan.blogspot.com
- https://www.facebook.com/rmcallan (my page)
- https://www.facebook.com/ravenmcallan (author page)
Love R x
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