Thank you so much Delilah, for having me here at your blog today!
Lately, I’ve been blogging about the kind of BDSM stories I write and why I like to write them. My BDSM stories are romantic, sexy stories about the journey of self-discovery my characters take as they fall in love.
This week one of my characters is appearing at another blog in the Perfect Man Event (Day Dreaming) and he had to answer questions about what qualifies him to be the perfect man. Well, Gabe (from Power Shift,) was a tad uncomfortable answering those questions about himself,
Because the Dominant in a relationship has power, he (and I only say “he” because my stories feature males Doms—certainly the Dom in a relationship can be a woman) he also has great responsibility. Just like Spiderman says.
Here’s a short excerpt featuring Gabe and Reagan, from Power Shift:
He rolled her to her back, mouth still joined to her, so he could slide one hand up her body and cup one of her sweet breasts, so soft, so lush. It filled his hand perfectly, absolute perfection. He lowered his mouth to her breast and tugged her nipple into his mouth, tonguing it, sucking it, and she writhed beneath him, arching her back, pushing herself up to his mouth. Her fingers slid into his hair, scraped across his scalp and more sizzles cascaded over his skin. He growled.
She just wouldn’t give up on hurting him. Then he almost smiled, his mouth still closed over her nipple. She liked to make him feel things, and yet he knew she would never really hurt him. He trusted her, and she challenged him, every time, and he had to admit he’d never loved the thrill of a challenge more than with her.
His throat constricted and he bent his head, his heart pounding, taking a moment to get control of his emotions. And then he paused. Why was he hiding his feelings from her? She’d seen him at his most vulnerable. So he lifted his head and stared into her face.
She gazed back at him, and her expression shifted and her eyes flickered as she took him in. Her hands came to his head, his face, a tender smile curving her lips, and he swallowed hard at the love and respect and devotion he saw there. “I don’t know how to say it,” he choked out. “Other than I love you, Reagan.”
She stroked his hair and his rough cheek and he turned his mouth into her palm and kissed it, closing his eyes.
Then he knew what he had to say to her. “Reagan.” He looked at her and her eyes focused on him. “I don’t want to own you or control you. I want to care for you, and look after you but I want to tell you that…I will spend my life encouraging you. Making you stronger. And in doing that I know you’ll make me a better man.”
His words were like a sacred vow and her eyes glowed. “Gabe. Thank you. We’ll make each other better. I love you too.” Her gaze held his, her words too like a vow, a promise. “I love your strength, your honor. I love how unselfish you are and how you repay my trust in you with care. I love how you found the strength to be vulnerable with me when I know how much it scared you.”
“Sweetheart. I could say the same to you. I know you didn’t want to make yourself vulnerable again.” Admiration and pride expanded inside him.
She nodded, eyes full of love and worship. “Thank you.”
“We both have to be willing to surrender,” he whispered, moving over her, between her legs. He took his weight on his elbows, arms beside her head on the pillow, hands in her hair. “I know that now.”