The Gentleman Mentor by Kendall Ryan
He calls himself the Gentleman Mentor.
Just reading his ad makes me feel more alive than I have in years.
He promises to teach me the art of seduction … and show me the most sinfully erotic pleasures. He’s going to help me become the kind of confident, sexy woman men can’t ignore.
Six lessons … with the most gorgeous man … who happens to be a Dom.
The only problem … now that I’ve experienced his brand of delectable domination will anyone else ever compare?
She’s a client. That’s all.
Or it should be.
But with every lesson, she’s becoming more.
The secrets I’m hiding behind the image of the Gentleman Mentor make telling her the truth—and having anything real—impossible.
I’m training her for another man, and that fact guts me every time I think of it.
I know she’s not mine … but part of me won’t accept that.
Am I willing to risk it all to keep her?
Excerpt The Gentleman Mentor (Lessons with the Dom #1) by 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.