Here's what Mel Morningchild say:
"I magine the following: you’re a strong, independent woman. I mean really strong and independent – not the generic pseudo-strong who faints or falls on her arse and face at the first sight of The Man, who then slums them against the wall of the elevator and goes I’m going to f*ck you. Now – that abound out there for erotic lovers. And then imagine that you find yourself swept into his Alpha aura with pheromones that turn you into nothing but Mount Etna Womanhood you can’t deny him. Nor deny yourself. Roman is The Man. Svadishana – Shana – is The Womanhood. Here’s an excerpt of their first encounter at her home in Montreux, Switzerland, from Roman’s POV. Roman is in the company of Alyssa, Shana’s BFF and lover. But Alyssa is also Roman’s lover of a few weeks.
Watching her descent, I was forced into performing pirouettes to keep my gaze on this magnificent creature floating down to me like a goddess descending from heaven.
“I was still in the middle of my Pilates and yoga when you were announced.”
Flawless teeth adorned her megawatt smile through a baby mouth with bee stung lower lip. The bottom lip had a split down the middle. She was barefoot too, I could now tell, as she lunged forward from the bottom step onto the foyer to hug Alyssa, the towel dropping.
But I nimbly stepped between them and wrapped my arms around her naked damp skin, burning for her, and swirled her around in the air, my pirouettes a bit faster now. Heat. Blazes. Crackles. Voltages.
The amount of electrons moving through and between us had enough amps to power the entire Montreux Jazz Festival.
I worked hard not to have the both of us electrocuted.
“Ooops!” she squealed, completely taken unawares. Then she stiffened for a second. Right up there in the air where I held her high enough to look down from slightly above me. The bioelectrical activities within our bodies had hit her too.
“Mr Castell, what a very cordial reception, I must say.”
“And it’s sincere and heartfelt, Dr Lindqvist.”
“Which is all very well, Mr Castell. But this happens to be my home, not yours.”
Her voice was calm, which amazed me, because normally I put women all off their strokes by merely stepping into a room. There had never been an exception ever since my teenage years. Was all the banter just her Finishing School being polite to me or was she flirting with me?
It was hard to decode, and those eyes were missiles and directed to mine, raiding me from scalp to crotch and lower still, annihilating me. Nevertheless, nobody else existed here for me right now but the two of us.
“Stimulating,” I said. “And thoroughly invigorating.”
She stiffened some more and pressed on my shoulders – firmly but cloaked in heavy velvet veils of discretion – for me to put her down.
We spoke the same language; her Swiss finishing school and my British Eton gentleman. Except that my Eton was a rogue’s and not a perfect gentleman’s right now. She opened her mouth to say something but I stopped that with my own words.
“I meant your home, of course, Dr Lindqvist.”
“Thank you, Mr Castell.” She looked down at me as if she was an empress amused at a courtier’s clever remarks. “My information was that you came to apologise. Which does not by any means imply that you shouldn’t respond to your sensory impulses, Mr Castell. Many have made similar observations about this home, including my family members.”
Jesus. I made mental notes that I needed to take up swordsmanship, which she seemed to have perfected. I parried as best as I could at the moment, charmed and mesmerised, yes, even bewitched by her eyes. In this dire strait, forget Ulysses.
“No apologies. I’d repeat Milan again if I had half a chance, Dr Lindqvist.” I murmured that almost to myself as she pushed hard against my shoulders while I tried to nuzzle her moist throat.
“Then you should give some thought to what you prefer to convey as a first impression of you, Mr Castell. Our species encourage a civil social interaction with each other, especially in public.”
All the public we had was Alyssa. But that was her finishing school version of:
Are you crazy? Put me down right now, you fucking bastard!
“You’re right, Dr Lindqvist. You and I need to interact in privacy.”
Her cheeks coloured so deeply it was almost magenta. Flames of anger leapt from her Huskies, burning into my blues straight to my crotch. She even stopped pressing on my shoulders. Had she not been imprisoned in the tight corset of her breeding, she would be kicking her legs in the air and punching my shoulders.
And I had her in my arms at last. I tightened my hold around her waist.
“Mr Castell, I think you have enough decency to put me down, don’t you?”
I tightened my arms around her. Swirled her around slower. Much slower. Her moist skin got moister and her whole body heat could give me a sunburn. The heatstroke was already rampant in my frenetic sergeant.
“The decency, yes, Dr Lindqvist. But neither the wish nor the desire to, I’m afraid.”
Roman is a dominant Alpha who can chain you up without chains, leave welts of lashes all over your skin without a whip, and tie you up in complicated knots of acute desire without any ropes - a more dominant Dom is yet to be born..."
Thank you Mel (Submissions@AuthorMePro.eu)