It never mattered who got home as long as they found each other. Maybe that wasn’t the best part. The morning sex was pretty remarkable. Afternoon s...x wasn’t bad either. Lunchtime sex was impressive, and who knew there could be such merit in sex at teatime? Then there was pre-dinner and post dinner, late night, and midnight. Her energy level was astonishing. As was her method of submission. Donovan was a Dom, ergo, he required a sub. The rules between Doms and subs were established long before. I hadn’t been expected. But I’d baked up several pans of blueberry muffins and then made the mistake of passing by a mirror—and suddenly I knew I wouldn’t be eating these muffins and was trying to think of who would appreciate fresh muffins for their breakfast. That’s how I found myself driving around the harbor from Fiddler’s Cove to the old town. They hadn’t seen me through the heavy foliage between the porch and the street, and I withdrew—in shock and despair—as soon as I simultaneously. More

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