Fit, masculine, educated male, late-20’s.
Discreet and forthcoming.
Under my direction and guidance women learn seduction techniques, how to achieve climax with and without a partner, explore physical gratification, and more.
Dominant, but don’t be scared, kitten, I’m not into pain.
Do not be misled. I am pure mischief. But I’m the best kind of trouble.
So, what do you say? Do you feel like being naughty?
If you’re ready to reach new levels of pleasure, contact me at @thedominantgentleman Serious inquires only.
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About the Author:
Kendall Ryan is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the contemporary romance novels HARD TO LOVE, UNRAVEL ME, MAKE ME YOURS, RESISTING HER and THE IMPACT OF YOU. She's a sassy, yet polite Midwestern gal with a deep love of books, and a slight addiction to lipgloss. Visit her at: www.kendallryanbooks.com for the latest books news.
Connect with Kendall Ryan:
Once I’m completely nude, I kneel in the center of the room with my gaze trained on the floor and wait. My heartbeat is crashing against my ribs, and I’m filled with a strange sense of longing and anticipation. Sex is never like this. It’s always been in a bed, under the covers, without any dirty talk or forceful commands. Simple and straightforward. I know sex with my Dom is going to be anything but ordinary. And that’s way more exciting than it should be.
As I kneel in my darkened bedroom, naked and wet between my legs, the noise in my brain begins to quiet. I’m singularly focused on him. My gaze never strays from its focus on the floor near the door, on the swath of light that comes from the hall. My heartbeat grows heavy with anticipation.
I continue waiting in my spot and several minutes later, I hear him. Footsteps coming closer.
When he enters the room, he’s carrying some type of small black leather bag. My heart riots in my chest.
He calmly crosses the room, all but ignoring me, and sets the bag on my bed. I don’t know if I should watch, but I can’t help my eyes from following him. He removes his suit jacket and neatly folds it, placing it on the table beside my bed. He unzips the bag and removes a black strip of fabric, and then turns to face me.
“Those greedy little eyes want to see everything, to form an opinion on it all, yes?”
I don’t answer. My breathing grows shallow as I continue watching him.
“The only thing I want you focused on is sensation, feeling. Do you understand?”
“I want to show you what you’re capable of. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I say again. I’m not sure why, but I do. And trust me, I’m aware it’s absolutely insane.
He stands behind me and fastens the silk fabric over my eyes, tying it behind my head. It blocks my vision entirely. My heart rate increases as the realization that I’m in total darkness sinks in.
I listen closely and hear him walk toward the bed. Then I hear a match spark to life, and my entire body stiffens. His footsteps cross the room, and I’m about to ask what’s going on when the faint scent of sandalwood and black currant greets me. He’s lit a candle, I’m pretty sure. Maybe this is all part of a ritual for him. Nothing is rushed, everything is calculated and planned out, and I like that he’s taken so much time and care into planning my lessons.