Cuffed, Again
by Mia Jae

Available now at Resplendence Publishing
www.resplendencepublishing.com

Cerise Thacker is in trouble. Her Chief Financial Officer is cooking her books. The detective working her case fears the guy's family will come after her, particularly, since the CFO states he will "fucking see to her death." So, under duress, she's whisked away in a Yellow Cab into a short-term protection program to keep her safe. The cabbie? Isaac Walker, undercover cop. For the duration, Isaac is her protector, even though protection is the last thing she wants.

Isaac knows he's in trouble, too. He and Cerise are no strangers. They'd shared a role play domme/sub encounter about a year earlier, neither of them revealing who they were. Now, thrust together in a situation of extreme danger and passion, Isaac must remain in control of the situation at all costs, even though he so very much wants to give it up to Cerise.

And Cerise, must do everything that he says to the letter, even if she doesn't want to. That is, if they want to get out of this thing alive.


Excerpt:

Cerise admired the specimen standing before her. Naked. His back to her. His wrists bound and shackled to the bedroom wall he faced.

The man's cocoa-brown skin shone with a thin film of perspiration. He smelled of sweet bourbon, lust, and testosterone. She studied his profile in admiration. High cheekbones, deep-set brown eyes, chiseled jaw, full lips. His body was devoid of hair, smooth as silk, including his head. She wondered if he shaved it or if he was naturally bald. She put him in his late thirties, maybe forty, and he was in good shape.

Yes. He was in very good shape. Her gaze trailed down his muscled back, his triangle torso, and his firm buttocks, high and well defined.

If only she could get her ass that high. More Pilates. She'd tell her personal trainer to work her harder.

She was now wearing only the bustier, a black thong, and the boots. She had added a few accessories, as well—black leather-studded cuffs on her wrists, a black and pearl studded choker around her neck. Her hair was slicked back into a tight ponytail, trailing down her back. She'd donned him with cuffs as well, making a game of it. He'd laughed until she'd told him that she was shackling him to the wall. Of course, he outweighed her by a hundred-and-fifty pounds, or more, she suspected. He could have pushed her out of the way and said the hell with it.

But he didn't. He allowed her to shackle his wrists to the wall while he wore nothing but a wicked smile.

"What you propose to do with me, boss lady," he had said.

She narrowed her gaze and looked him straight in the eye. "Anything I want."

He chuckled, and she walked away. That's when she'd left him to draw herself a bath. A hot, steamy bath. With bubbles. She'd lingered long in the tub, admiring the buck-naked view of the man through her bathroom door. He glanced behind him occasionally but couldn't fully turn to see her.

"You about ready, boss lady?"

"No."

"Getting kind of tired standing here."

"You'll live."

"You gonna make me wait all night?"

"Perhaps."

"Well, I just—"

"Shut up."

He didn't say another word.

Wait for it, sweet. Yes. In due time.

* * *

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