Fifth in the Nature of Desire Series. The white-collar life Jonathan Powell created for himself is gone. Standing outside Wentworth prison after serving his five-year sentence, he knows he has to start over. No more hooking up with Dominant women so he can enjoy the challenge of screwing up their minds. But who knew his last target would be a psychopathic killer who tried to off two cops? No, it wasn't the game that was the problem. He just made some key mistakes. Mistakes he won't make again. Then Mistress Dona shows up to give him a ride from the prison into his new life, and his resolve goes out the window. She's everything he can't resist. Dona knows she has to help Jonathan make the right choice this time, because Hell doesn't offer options. He has to understand and accept what surrender truly means. His only hope is a Mistress of Redemption. The problem is she may lose her own soul in the attempt to save his. Reader Advisory: This book contains a very gritty and frank journey to Hell and contains many BDSM elements. Some of the situations and scenes may be disturbing to some readers. It is not for the faint of heart. Features Jonathan from Natural Law.
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Ellora's Cave Publishing Inc
November 13, 2009
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Adobe DRM EPUB
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Excerpt from Mistress of Redemption by Joey W. Hill
You had a good body. But prison used those muscles, made them real, didn't it? It toughened you up good. I like your hair longer, that dangerous glint to those pretty blue eyes. You're looking like a fine, cool drink of water out here in the hot desert. I've a mind to take you somewhere I can enjoy that tool and those muscles at my own pace."
Her tone was as sultry as the weather. Her eyes, as they lifted back to his, were as relentless as the sun's heat. He knew she wasn't inviting him anywhere. Her manner said that if he knew what was good for him, he'd get his ass in the car.
"I'm out of that now."
"Yeah." Those lips curved in a mocking smile, her attention dropping back down to his erection pressing against his jeans, a reaction he'd indifferently made more noticeable by the frame of his large hands on either side of it. "I can see that."
"I've seen nothing but ugly bastards with dicks for five years, and you've driven up in an outfit that says you're here to give me some. So stop being a cock tease and offer it. Or fuck off." He patted his shirt for another cigarette.
"Oh, you're pushing it, sweet boy. Just begging for punishment, aren't you?"
His fingers fumbled the pack the moment she said it, a trigger inside him squeezing off, making him even harder. He clamped down on the cigarette with his teeth. Feeling in the narrow confines of a jeans pocket for his lighter, he found he couldn't get his fingers down there, his organ had gotten so huge.
"Come here." She crooked a finger at him. It sported a long black glossy nail with a silver star appliqu? that flashed, giving the sharp point of the nail the appearance of a scalpel in the glaring sunlight. His lower extremities became even more taut. He was likely going to cream himself just from looking at her.
He didn't like the way she was looking at him. All proprietary, as though he were a dog she knew wasn't content unless he was at a Mistress's heel.
He didn't want to play this game. He'd planned a simple, uncomplicated fuck with a paid whore, followed by that shave and shower. He just needed to get his uncooperative cock to understand that.
"I'm waiting for the bus." The fucking bus that should have been here by now.
"Jonathan Powell, on public transportation." She mocked his gruff tone. "Wouldn't he rather be seen with a sexy woman in a fast, powerful car? I've already set up an appointment for your haircut and manicure. A full shave." When her attention lowered again, he swore he felt the feathering of those thick lashes stroke his cock from twenty feet away. "Or is he running away because there's a woman he doesn't think he can handle?"
Her words taunted him inside the way her voice was doing outside. He perused her thoroughly, resting his attention insolently long on those luscious tits before he gave her a mocking bow.
"What the hell. For a shower and a shave, I guess I'm all yours, Mistress."
Picking up his bag, he strode to the door of the car on her side and tossed it into the backseat under her intent regard. "Like what you see?"
"I like to study my food before I eat it. It's called savoring, Nathan."
"Jonathan. I go by Jonathan. Someone told you wrong at the club."
"That's not what you call yourself."
Before he could circle around to the passenger side, she bent forward, giving him a view of her breasts that made him want to howl like a ravenous wolf. Reaching out, she slid two fingers deep into the recesses of the pocket of his jeans and found his lighter. She retracted it, making him hyperaware of his hard cock only an inch away from her touch. When she got it free, she fired the lighter in a mean line drive across the road so it landed on the asphalt and clattered off into the sand. Plucking his cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, she tossed them in the same direction. "I'll call you whatever I fucking want. You won't be smoking. You're my slave, so get your ass in the car. Nathan."
The anger surged up in him, hot, bloodthirsty. He made no effort to hide it, narrowing his gaze. It was a look other prisoners had learned to respect. She merely waited, those breasts at eye level, dominating his vision. God, she smelled so...female. Perfume. Hair shampoo. Body spray. Powdery female deodorant. He wanted to wallow in those scents, in a woman. He despised himself for needing one like her far more than he needed a vanilla fuck.
Mistresses knew a submissive man's needs were more complex. He wasn't a complete whipped candy-ass like other male subs. However, he couldn't deny fucking with a Domme's head had taught him pleasure like nothing else had. Her standing there with that "I'm-going-to-work-you-over" smug smile on her face was more than he could resist. So he tried out a smile of his own, one he hadn't pulled out of his hat in over five years. A smile capable of making a woman wet just from the implication of it. "May I help you back down behind the wheel? Mistress."
With an amused look that made him feel as if she was scoffing at him, she placed her hand in his. The feel of a woman's fingers, delicate and smooth, capable of being merciful or merciless, made his hand tighten briefly. While he absorbed his own reaction, she stood still, apparently waiting for his next move, a surprise courtesy. He almost sensed...compassion. As well as a terrible knowledge he didn't have and didn't want to know about himself. It raised a need in him so strong he wouldn't give a name to it. If he hadn't known that jerking back might unbalance her and make her fall on her ass, depriving him of his ride, he would have done it. Instead, he steadied his mind and watched her use his weight as a counterbalance to slide back down into the seat. Withdrawing her hand with a nod, she followed him with that same inscrutable look as he circled to the passenger side and got into the car.
"You owe me cigarettes. And a lighter." He rasped it out of a dry throat.
"No, I don't. By the end of our time together, Nathan, you're going to owe me everything."