When good friend and fellow author Casey McKay told me a few months ago that she wanted to host Aching to Submit on Celeste Jones's book club, I was thrilled. I'd never had a book featured there before and this book in particular is very close to my heart.
Casey has put together some questions and discussion points so please mark your calendars and drop by if you can. This Friday, Valentine's Day (lucky me), is the day.
Here is an excerpt. This is the scene between Michael and Sophie after Michael has found out that Sophie has been visiting the BDSM club, L'Opera, without him. Michael has just gotten home and Sophie has prepared a special meal with the intention of telling him tonight about her secret desires. only he beats her to it...
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“Right on time.” She looked up at him. He looked different, disheveled. Her stomach was in knots and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to eat a bite of the meal she’d prepared. She was going to tell him tonight. She’d been practicing how she’d say it ever since she’d gotten home this afternoon. But now that he was here, well, it was different.
“Smells good,” Michael said, still holding onto her, his eyes searching her face as if they were looking for something. She had the impression he couldn’t have cared less about the food as his hands kneaded the flesh of her upper arms.
“I just took the salmon out; we should probably eat before it gets cold,” she said. Something was off.
He was acting strange. He released her arms and she went back into the kitchen. He followed her in.
“You’ve already had a glass?” he asked, taking a wineglass out of the cupboard and pouring from the bottle that stood open on the counter.
“Not much, I just poured it.” She’d needed something to help her relax.
He took a bigger sip than she would have expected; he was usually so controlled. When she turned to plate the salmon, she could feel his eyes on her back the entire time.
“Is this the new bottle you bought?” he asked, picking up the bottle and looking at the label.
She nodded without looking at him as a chill ran up her spine. “It’s the Chablis. Everything okay, Michael?” she asked, trying to sound casual, keeping her hands busy.
“Everything’s perfect,” he answered. But his tone said everything was anything but perfect. “We ready to eat?”
She looked at him, then nodded. “If you’ll bring the bottle.” She dropped her gaze first and walked into the dining room. When she got to the table, what she saw lying in the center made everything stop. Everything except for the plate of fish, which shattered on the hardwood floor.
“Sit down, Sophie,” Michael said, coming up behind her.
She shuddered and turned to look at him over her shoulder. Her face, she was certain, was as white as the wall.
His gaze was blue ice on hers.
“Sit down. Now.”
Crushing shards of her favorite serving dish beneath her shoes, she walked to take her seat. Her eyes turned once again to the black leather paddle that took up the center of the dining room table.
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