When well-known chef and restaurateur David Marone recognizes the food critic who just lambasted him in a review on the charity auction block, he bids an inordinate amount to keep her as his slave for three nights. He remembers the haughty foodie from culinary school seventeen years earlier, and relishes the idea of getting even with her for her mean-spirited review.
Portia Sands hopes the dark and gorgeous Chicago chef who won the bid for her at the Castle charity auction doesn’t know her real identity as the food critic who tore him apart in a review the week before. She finds he hasn’t changed since culinary school–still arrogant, over-confident and domineering. Unfortunately, he has the same effect on her now as he did then: reducing her to a trembling mass of jello.
When he pushes her to her limits, placing her in a cage like a pet, she discovers he knows who she is, and means to exact revenge. She considers calling the Castle safeword to end their time together, but some part of her won’t allow it. Somehow she must survive three nights as his slave and keep her heart in the process.
There are sadists that fascinate and horrify us in literature. The kind we would never want to encounter in the light of day. And then there are the loveable sadists. The type that we crave to push our limits. The type we want to punish us and ride that fine line between pleasure and pain with.
You know the ones
David Dean from Darling Adams new story Punishing Portia falls into the later category. He's on the list of my all time favorite, loveable sadists. He's just the right blend of sexy, controlled, domineeringly wicked man.
And to be sure, the punishments David puts Portia through are wicked, inventive, and blur more lines than Robin Thicke.
So diabolically wicked that Darling Adams had me squirming in my seat, devouring pages. More than once did I find myself waiting with baited breath as Portia warred with the same conflict that was shaking me. To safe word, or not to safe word?
David Dean pushed all of Portia's limits, but even during the most delicious retribution punishments you could feel how much he cared--as much as it confused both of them.
I was quickly drawn into Portia's tale, feeling the same clash of indignation and arousal. So much freaking arousal. If you're anything like me, this book will set your tiddly bits a tingling. I'd been eagerly awaiting this one for months, and it did not disappoint. I adored everything about this story.
“Come,” he ordered, walking out.She trailed behind him.
He walked to the bed and patted it, saying, “Up.”
She crawled up onto the bed.
“Lay down,” he commanded, pointing his finger down.
It should be silly to take orders like a dog, except from him, they seemed natural. Or maybe she truly had become his pet, with the mentality to go along.
He left for the bathroom where she presumed he brushed his own teeth or did whatever he did before bed. When he returned, he pulled off all his clothes except his boxer briefs and climbed onto the other side of the bed, switching out the light. To her surprise, he settled right behind her, contouring his front to her back and tossing an arm over her waist. She certainly hadn’t expected spooning from him.
His cock twitched against her ass.
He shifted, leaning up on his elbow to peer down at her. He’d left the bathroom light on, giving enough illumination to see in the darkened room. She rolled her head to look at him, shy under his scrutiny. He brushed the hair back from her face. “Black hair and porcelain skin. Where did you get your coloring?”
She blinked, wondering if the question was rhetorical.
“You can answer,” he said softly.
Something fluttered in her belly. Something caused by the warmth in his tone. She could handle his cold dominance better than...this. Whatever this was. She swallowed. “My mother is Greek. I look just like her.”
“Does she have the golden eyes, as well?”
“Remarkable,” he said, tracing the arch of her eyebrow with his index finger. “You’re beautiful.”
She flushed, wanting to look away but held captive by his feather-light touch and his gaze.
“So, what’s your axe to grind with me? Because I’ve read your reviews, and you don’t usually hit below the belt.”
Her natural defensiveness kicked in and she opened her mouth to argue that her review had been solely based on her experience at David Dean’s, but he touched her lips with his finger.
“Be careful,” he warned.
She closed her mouth, turning her head away from him to close the subject.
But he didn’t stop pursuing an answer. “What made you think you knew me well enough to critique my personality along with the restaurant? You don’t even know me.”
She snapped her head back to look at him, angry. “You don’t remember me? We went to culinary school together.”
“Of course I do,” he said, “But what relevance does that have? I remembered us being friendly. I never did anything to you.”
She looked away again, not wanting to rake into the past.
He put a finger to her chin and turned her back to face him. “Did I?” he asked, sounding uncertain.
She jerked her head away.
“What did I do?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” she muttered, curling into a tight ball and closing her eyes. “I’m sorry for the review. I told you that already.”
“Snapping ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t count. But don’t worry--I’ll get a genuine apology out of you before our time together is up,” he said ominously.
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Darling Adams is a naughty author and kinkster who loves writing about hot alpha males, Dominance/submission and power exchanges. Named Eroticon USA’s Next Top Erotic Author in 2013, her books are all centered around kink, namely: spanking. She also writes under the name Renee Rose.
You can find more Darling Adams @ ReneeRomance