A seductive and scorching Billionaire romance that’ll have you in knots…
Dearie me, I may be a little bit speechless. I’ve never read anything by Elizabeth SaFleur, and to be honest, I hadn’t even heard of her until the promo for Lucky hit my inbox. I may have become a just a teeny weeny bit excited over the blurb— I was SOLD! from the off. I was so right to have been that enthusiastic, god, this book is hot. With a capital H.O.T. I may be salivating a little thinking about it. Think Fifty Shades on steroids.
Although I have just mentioned Fifty, I have to admit that the actual story is different…ish. I mean, Derek is one mighty fine billionaire with an appetite for BDSM, and he does have a troubled background… Look, the reality is that the characters do have some similar traits, but isn’t that the whole point of a Billionaire BDSM Romance? You know what you’re getting, how you’re getting it and you know that by the end you’ll be more than satisfied. And, Lucky will leave you giddy and breathless and hot under the collar.
This is book #4 in the Elite Doms of Washington series, like I said— I haven’t read any of the other books before, and this read perfectly as a standalone. There were some secondary characters that I could tell had had their book already, but that didn’t impact my enjoyment of the story whatsoever. If anything it just made me uber excited to have something to go back to once I finished Lucky. The story is brilliantly mapped out and developed. It swallowed me up completely and before I knew it… it was spitting me back out. Considering this is a full length novel I managed to read it in one sitting. I was so consumed with this story that I may have actually ignored my bodily needs for a whole 8 hours. Who needs to eat and drink anyway? Pfffffffft…
So, Derek… I really liked him. Obviously. There were times that I did want to violently shake him and kick his butt. He’s a little slow in the uptake of certain things… feelings primarily. I know that the whole angst of unexpected feelings and how to deal with them is a trademark of the genre, but he just took the peepee out of it! You’re left a bit like— seriously, dude, it’s not that difficult. But then there’s a twist and you realise that there’s so much more than meets the eye… and you feel like the twat. Elizabeth SaFleur really screwed me over. I do not like being wrong. And. I. Was. Wrong. About my violent intent… toward Derek. SaFleur really does deserve praise for putting such a fresh spin on a cliché. She had my eyes ogling and my heart racing and breaking. She did a number on me with her exceptionally written characters and story.
Samantha really stole the show for me. She’s strong and she has this uncanny ability to smash Derek’s ego to smithereens. However, at the same time she builds him up. They really do balance each other beautifully. Although Derek is the Dom in their relationship, Samantha is the one holding the reins. She elevates his character to a whole new level. She in no way changes him, but she enables him to be the person he doesn’t believe he can be. Personally, I loved that. I can’t stand it when you have a heroine that either changes herself for the hero or that wallows in self-pity and despair because he’s too blind to see what’s in front of him.
Right, so moving on to the HOT taboo sex. The bondage BDSM scenes in this book are insane. They are tasteful, but on the graphic side. There are moments when it does get raw, and there is that initial cringe moment where you’re left slightly uncomfortable with the situation and how Samantha and Derek deal with it. Saying that though, it made the love story that much deeper and empathiseable. Going on that journey with them where they work through their mutual needs together, was pretty gut-wrenching at times. I just adored how SaFleur told used those scenes to develop the story. I hate it when there’s sex just for the sake of sex.
I’m so glad that I crossed paths with ELizabeth SaFleur and Lucky. I cannot wait for more from this series and I am so chuffed that I have some catching up to do in the meantime!
About the Book
When a man tells you who he is, believe him
Billionaire entertainment investor and resolute bachelor Derek Damon Wright learned at a young age women were trouble. He’s unprepared for dancer Samantha Rose who walks into his thirteenth, Washington DC nightclub opening with an authenticity and passion for life that quickly rocks his jaded, albeit privileged, world.
Samantha, an aerial artist and dance studio owner, hasn’t been lucky in love, and falling for the charismatic and Dominant Derek won’t draw her closer to her greatest dream of having a baby. Yet she’s helpless to resist his charm and sophisticated world of private jets, Caribbean islands and the sexual pleasures of dominance and submission.
As their whirlwind romance progresses, past mistakes rise up to threaten their future. Only when they rely on each other for safe haven do they find the answer to their dreams.
“Samantha, dim the lights.”
She wasted no time clicking off the fluorescents in the ceiling. The tiny white fairy lights she’d hung for ambience for her sexier classes remained on and bathed him in an eerily beautiful glow.
“When does your next class start?”
“Hmm. We’ll make it work. Go to the silks. The red ones.”
They were her longest pair, the ends pooled in a crimson puddle before a mirrored corner and connected by a big hook from the turreted ceiling. She placed herself between the two hanging ends and grasped them to steady herself. Had she just asked him to tie her up, in her studio, when anyone could walk in at any time?
He grasped the fabric above her fist and yanked on them, hard, as if checking their hold.
“They won’t come down.”
“I always check rigging.” His fingers slipped underneath her tee shirt and a rush of cool air hit her skin as he tugged down her yoga pants, taking her panties with them.
“Do I get to set any rules for—”
“No.” While soft, his voice broached no negotiation.
She yanked her feet out of the bunched up pants and kicked them to the side. “It’s my studio.”
“It’s my dance. Anticipation is half the game. Wondering what will happen next. When the next touch will come. How it will come.”
“This is a game?”
“Everything’s a game. Now we need to address a few things. Answer your questions. I know you have them.”
“About bondage and stuff? I’m kind of embarrassed to ask. It’d be easier if you were a woman right now.”
“I anticipated that. I have someone for you to talk with. Christiana Snow-almost-Brond.”
“Seriously? Christiana? I’d have never guessed.” One of her students was into BDSM. Who knew? Christiana only dropped into her classes occasionally. Perhaps she’d missed some signs along the way.
“Don’t let that innocent face fool you. Come to think of it, maybe you should ask me instead. I don’t want you to get any new ideas without me.”
“No, Christiana is a good suggestion. I will, if she’s willing.” She could use someone to talk to who wasn’t Derek. Now that she’d entered this relationship with him, if one could call it that, she’d go wherever he wanted to take her. She needed to know more about his lifestyle.
He cradled her cheek in one hand. “Until then will you trust me?”
“Good. We’ll go slow.” He grasped the cane chair she’d been sitting it earlier and placed it under the tent of the silks. After grabbing a handful of the red fabric, he motioned to the chair. “Sit. Knees apart, ankles hooked on the chair legs.”
The intensity of his eyes drove out any lingering thoughts about his intentions. Derek’s turn to Dominant energized her libido like no man had ever. The unmistakable, dark edge in his voice, the way his eyes cleared and spine straightened, flipped a switch inside her.
The chair creaked as she lowered herself to the seat. Her position put her at eye level with his chest. Yet his cock straining against the fabric of his pants caught her interest. The memory of him driving deep inside her—and her raw thoughts about where else she wanted that thick cock—broke free. She made a show of widening her legs, feeling every inch of the hard wood under her thighs. She circled one chair leg with one ankle. Then, the other.
He went to work.
While wrapping silk around each leg, he’d glance up occasionally to peer into her face. A second wrap with the fabric made her twitch. Watching his hands work—quickly and with confidence—drove more desire to places she rarely thought of while at work.
Oh, hell, her desire for him hadn’t abated one ounce after last night’s lap dance.
After he’d dropped her off, and gave her a kiss at the door that had numbed her lips, she’d made it to bed on quivery legs. She’d barely gotten her clothes off and crawled into bed before she touched herself. She’d never have fallen asleep without doing so. Hell, she got off twice, each orgasm called up by merely picturing his face, imagining his hands and his cock doing wicked things to her body. She’d also woken with her hand between her legs.
Lordy, she turned into a nymphomaniac around this guy—only without the pathology.
“You’ll tell me if this burns.”
He pulled the last wrap of fabric taut. She gulped when the chair screeched a little as he pulled it across the floor with the force of his wrap. Oh, she’d burn all right and not just from the silks.
“Samantha?” He grasped the curved back of the chair and held up two gloves he must have scooped up from where she’d tossed them. “How do you feel about blindfolds?”
“The blue ones would look better on me.”
“Eager to try new things, I see.”
“With you, I am.” She grasped her lip between her teeth.
He stepped backward. “I watched a Dominant in a club in Philadelphia go over limits with his submissive once. She listed five. No blood play, animals, sharing her, suspension and breath play. That was it, she’d said.” He focused his eyes on her face. “He then backhanded her across the face. Once her shock wore off, he asked her if she’d developed any new ones in the last minute.”
Samantha sucked in a sharp breath. “Now you’re scaring me.”
“I meant to.” He put his hands on the back of the chair and leaned in so she could feel his breath. “I will never hit you. I don’t hit women. But I must know what your limits are—all of them.” He straightened. “Given how new this is between us, we’re going to go about this a little differently, starting with a ‘yes’ list. What are you hoping I’ll do? Then, I’ll surprise you with other things along the same vein.”
Oh, the things she wanted him to do. She squirmed, as much as she could bound to her creaky chair.
“Spanking?” he asked.
“Bondage. How does it feel now?”
“Blindfolds?” He held up the two gloves he’d scooped up and tied them together.
“Gagging?” He held up a third glove.
A pang between her thighs answered that one, so she only nodded. She’d never view her burlesque class the same way. In stripping, the dancer inched the glove off, finger by finger, prolonging the baring of skin, teasing the onlooker with the possibilities. Now she’d only think about the way Derek fondled the satin between his capable fingers taunting her with how he might use them. To bind me. Gag me. She’d imagine the material stuffed in her mouth might mute the sharpest of her cries or if tied across her eyes all her senses heightening his touch, his maneuvering.
“Good start.” He circled the chair, pulling a wrist behind her. He tied one end of a glove around her wrist. “Give me your other hand.” After obeying, her two wrists slapped against one another in a rough tug.
Oddly, he didn’t blindfold her but held one up in front of her mouth. “Open. You’re going to hold it between your teeth. If you drop the glove, I’ll stop everything.”
About the Author
Writing erotic romance is the most fun I’ve ever had. (Well, except for the research.)
Many of my books are set in Washington, DC, where I lived and worked many years, running a public relations firm. In my PR career I’ve been fortunate to encounter or represent some of the city’s powerful insiders. I write, tweet and post under my pseudonym, Elizabeth SaFleur, since my clients might be a little shocked at how their counselor spends her free time. Then again, perhaps they’d fear they provided inspiration. (I’ll never tell.)
Today, I live in Virginia with my husband and furry child. Occasionally I’m separated from my laptop to indulge in dance classes and visit wineries and hiking trails with family and friends. If there were a house fire, I’d grab my dog, laptop and five foot-long, regulation, Sally Rand ostrich feather fans — in that order. (Hubby knows the way out.)
I’m a member of the Romance Writers of America, Washington Romance Writers, and an ongoing student of fiction writing, as well as avid reader of general fiction and romance, especially the erotic kind.
If you’d like to connect elsewhere, please circle me on Google+ or connect with me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest or Goodreads.