SoulBond: An Erotic Romance [MultiFormat]
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eBook by Valentine Adams
eBook Category: Erotica/Erotic Romance/Romance
eBook Description: He Bound Her Body and Her Heart! In the tradition of J. W. McKenna and Powerone comes a brilliant new author of the romance of domination and surrender. Five years ago Preston Hunter, a well-known, successful writer, hired Greta as a temporary assistant. But now, he realizes that Greta has become a part of his life, and Press wants more than just the office relationship. But he doesn't know how to tell her. Press has already been married twice and neither relationship fulfilled his sexual needs. His only outlet is the erotic novels of bondage and submission he writes under a secret pseudonym, Valentine Hart. Valentine's characters do the sort of stuff that Press only dreams about. Then Greta, who is a secret submissive, finds Valentine's erotica online. His writings turn her on in a way nothing else ever has, and she develops a relationship with Valentine via email, never realizing he is actually her boss, Preston Hunter. However Press realizes who is emailing him, and sets out to use his writing to seduce her. Then, in a risky undertaking Val convinces Greta to become Preston's slave for a weekend. The results of that weekend will change their lives forever. For what the pair discovers is that they are more than just soul mates, they share a SoulBond.
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler, Published: 2005
Fictionwise Release Date: November 2005
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For nearly five years, he had seen her five days a week, at least whenever she wasn't on holiday or taking a sick day. More often than not though, she was there. Her reliability was one of the reasons ... or more accurately one of the excuses he had used to justify keeping her on his payroll. Writers rarely needed any full-time help. When they need help, it's usually of a temporary nature, just as the need which had brought her to him in the beginning. He had required a few weeks of assistance. But the very first time he had seen her, the day she came for an interview, he was totally infatuated with her. And time had only made greater his need to have her around.
It was a pleasure to him when she came in each morning. The red-blonde hair that fell in soft curls to the middle of her small back. And the bright blue eyes and pretty smile. And there always seemed to be lurking just below the surface some mischievousness that wanted to burst out and cause her to do something bad. He lived for the time when she would finally do something bad. And he loved her quick sense of humor and the fact that she frequently embarrassed herself with some unthought out comment. And hearing that small voice, always with an edge of laughter, just drove him crazy. And she was smart about lots of things and interested in them too. But she still had the capacity to be totally clueless, particularly whenever any discussion came up that had any reference to sexual activities.
His first reaction to her had been that he couldn't hire a high school student. He was very skeptical when she had said that she was twenty-four years old. Of course the small stature contributed substantially to that illusion. She had small delicate hands with what seemed to be very long and elegant fingers. And her wrists were not even five inches around. He kidded her about having elfin magic. Some sort of magic had certainly stolen his heart.
So now for most of five years, he had been given to daily, and on some days hourly, fantasies that not just included her, but were almost always dedicated completely to her. He wanted to share with her a relationship other than employer, employee. He wanted to hold her and feel the warmth of her body against his. He wanted to comfort her when she didn't feel well and to share in her happiness when things were great. But he kept it all to himself. He conducted himself as a gentleman and employer at all times. He did on occasion take her to lunch and on rarer occasion, she would have dinner with him. And they had discussions about almost everything. Every morning in the office, they talked about anything from politics to religion, travel to families. He was sure she would be surprised at just how much he actually knew about her. And that was due in a large measure to the fact that he paid attention to everything she said. And he filed away the important stuff.
The only thing about her that he didn't particularly like was the way she dressed. At the office, she had quickly picked up on the casual lifestyle of a writer and she too took on that style. Most days she wore either jeans or khaki pants and round collared knit shirts that were little more than t-shirts. On really cold winter days, she would were long sleeved turtleneck sweaters. He thought those looked really great. And on the very rare occasion, she would wear a dress top and skirt to the office. This usually happened when she had something else to do during the day or in the evening immediately after work. And the skirts she wore were always nearly floor-length, which frustrated him even more. He had seen her legs and while they were very thin, they were perfectly proportioned with trim little ankles and small feet. She wore only a size 5 shoe. But he was a leg-man and nothing would have added more to the beauty of the office than a pretty pair of exposed legs walking around all day, that is except a pretty pair of legs in really nice stockings. That was another weakness he had. Now it wasn't as if it never happened, but he could probably count on his hands the number of times she had worn skirts short enough to show off her legs in the five years she had been with him. And it also frustrated him that she wore men's socks with work boots most of the time. She did wear casual women's shoes about once a week, but even then, with the black crew socks she might choose to wear when she wore socks at all. Almost never stockings. She confessed to hating pantyhose and in one of those morning conversations they'd have, she had told him about trying thigh high stay-ups and stockings and garterbelts and she had just given up on trying to find some comfortable arrangement.
He actually preferred summer when she was more likely to wear something cool and always slip on shoes including sandals. He loved it when she showed up with leather sandals and her toes were painted with bright red or fuchsia nail polish. But most of these things were about to change. * * * *
Preston Hunter, Press to his friends, was a known name in suspense fiction. He had published 13 novels and while he was not a number one best-selling author, he sold well enough to make it onto the list most every time at say ... ninth or tenth, and he did make a very comfortable living. And he had a following that was loyal and always eager to get at the newest installment. Press had all the trappings of success, the nice home on the coast and a small farm for year-around use, his studio which was the 7th and top floor in a converted printing plant that overlooked the river, several nice cars and an airplane which he flew himself. He had probably made enough money and invested a large enough portion of those earnings to live comfortably for as long as he might survive. And he did exactly what he wanted. He had no boss. He never took advances because he didn't want to give the publisher the right to make demands on him. Everything was perfect ... well almost. There was one little thing that was omitted from his bio and he would never do anything to compromise this secret. And a secret is certainly what it was. He wasn't really ashamed of his secret, but he also knew that it could damage his career if it got out. So he was careful.
And the secret wasn't really all that bad. It was just that he had grown up in the Bible belt and that farm he called home for more than half the year was smack in the middle of it too. So it was easier just to cave in to pressure to be politically correct and keep the secret. As a writer, Press led a double life. He had an alternate ego in the person of Val Adams. Val, was born in the same year as Press, but his birthday was Valentine's Day, hence the name. Val is short for ... you probably guessed it, Valentine. A little burden Val liked to blame on his mom. Of course since Val didn't exist, as anything other than a character, neither did his mom, but then, creating people and giving them life is what a writer does. And the life Press had given to Val was that of a writer also. So why the secrecy? Val wrote specialized erotica. In fact, it was very specialized. And what was even more stressful about the whole thing was that Val was every bit as successful as Press. He certainly made as much money. And since he lived not just with Press, but inside him, they could share the same food, clothing, lodging, studio ... well you get the idea. Val had no expenses.
Now this was always a pressure in the back of Preston's mind. At times he felt guilty and at other times he just felt frustrated. And he considered giving it up on more than one occasion. In fact, he had done exactly that at least four different times. He had just stopped being Val and quit writing erotica. But in a matter of weeks, he was so depressed and frustrated by the loss that he had been left with no alternative but to resume writing. And there was such demand for his work; he was constantly getting e-mail requests for more. So each time, he went back. Finally, after a near six-month hiatus the last time, Val became resigned to the fact that a writer has to write. And that was the best decision he had made in a long time. Although not directly, it indirectly caused his life to become complete. And few of us can claim to have a complete life.