The King always gets what he wants—and he wants Makayla.
Makayla Carrington is innocent and inexperienced...until she meets Donovan King. When the King decides that he wants Makayla, he whisks her away to the Totally Five Star Hotel in Madrid, and he'll do anything to protect her from his clandestine BDSM activities.
All too soon, Makayla discovers Donovan's secret, then Makayla decides that she wants something too—to be Donovan's submissive.
A rivalry arises when an ex of Donovan's decides that she wants him back and the woman will stop at nothing to fulfill her aim. But Donovan will do anything to protect his relationship with Makayla, and time is of the essence if he wants to keep her.
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About the Author
Jasmine was born in Australia and grew up in Sydney. She currently lives in Madrid, Spain with her husband.
She adores reading all genres but in particular she enjoys erotic romance novels and thrillers.
Jasmine loves writing and is always looking for new ideas for stories that will provoke inner passions, stimulate the senses and ignite the imagination.
Her interests include cooking, traveling, yoga and skiing.
She has won some short story competitions and is now excited to have started publishing her erotic romance stories through Totally Bound Publishing.
Read an Excerpt
Copyright © Jasmine Hill 2015. All Rights Reserved, Totally Entwined Group Limited, T/A Totally Bound Publishing.
Donovan King had never before laid eyes on such a beautiful creature. She looked like an angel. Her golden hair tumbled in careless waves past her shoulders. Her plump, cherry red lips looked lush and full. But it was her eyes that mesmerized him. Even behind those thick, black-rimmed glasses, her eyes were the first feature he noticed. A color that he’d heard about but had never actually seen on someone in the flesh—violet eyes. There were purple smudges under them, the only thing marring her lovely features, indicating a weariness that someone so young should never have to endure.
A threadbare, baggy jumper and a long floral skirt hid most of her figure, but he could tell, even under her shapeless clothing, that she was slender, too slender. Her wrist that poked out of one floppy sleeve was so pale and delicate that he imagined the simplest flick of his fingers could snap it in two—the thought sent a cold jolt through him.
He peered out of the window of the service station and studied the cars, his gaze alighting on a beat-up old Commodore that had definitely seen better days. He’d bet his left arm that the car was hers. Anger suffused him. How could anyone allow this young woman to drive such a deathtrap? Didn’t she have anyone looking out for her interests? He shuddered to think what could happen to her if she ever broke down alone and at night.
Donovan snapped his gaze back to the woman, her increasingly frantic movements drawing his attention once more. She looked panicked and had ducked her head to rummage through a shabby handbag.
He looked past her to the service station attendant who kept drumming his fingers impatiently. Donovan lowered his gaze to a crumpled five-dollar note and a few coins scattered on the counter.
The angel looked up, her face flushed, hands shaking. “I know I have it. Just a moment.”
Her sexy voice, husky and low, hit him like a sledgehammer. It was deeper than he’d expected and sent hot desire unfurling in his belly.
A gruff cough from farther back in the growing line spurred Donovan into action. One long stride brought him level with the counter. “How much?” he snarled at the attendant.
Donovan threw a ten-dollar note onto the counter and scooped up the money the woman had already deposited there. He grasped one of her delicate hands in his and tugged her gently away from the other customers.
He realized just how petite she was when he drew her close. She stared up at him, her violet eyes wide behind those ugly glasses. The flush on her cheeks intensified as she visibly struggled to regain her composure.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” she murmured in that husky voice.
Fuck! Did she just call me sir? His testosterone levels flew into hyperdrive.
“I know I have the money in here somewhere.” She opened her handbag and recommenced rummaging through it.
Donovan placed a hand on her arm, stilling her frantic movements.
“Don’t apologize. Please, I was happy to help.” He thrust the money he’d reclaimed from the attendant into her hand.
“Oh, thank you, but I can’t possibly accept,” she said.
“You can and you will,” he stated bluntly. “No arguments.”
She gazed at him, indecision clouding her beautiful eyes. She grasped the hem of her jumper and twisted the fabric between her hands as she nibbled on her bottom lip. She was younger than he’d first thought, definitely early twenties, and her whole doe-eyed, breathy-voiced demeanor was sending his protective instincts into overdrive. The power of the unfamiliar emotion was so strong he had to force himself to refrain from picking her up and striding to his car with her safely in his arms. He shoved a hand through his hair in agitation.
She seemed to come to a decision and thrust a hand out in his direction. “My name’s Makayla Carrington. Thank you, sir, for helping me. It was very kind of you.”
Fierce desire swept through him. There’s that word again. He struggled to maintain his composure as he took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. “Makayla, I’m Donovan King. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
A frisson like an electric shot hit him when he touched her. It was an odd thing for him to do, kiss a woman’s hand. He couldn’t remember ever having done it before. He was definitely not a man given to romantic gestures. His proclivities ran deeper and darker than that.
She blushed prettily, lowered her eyes and grasped her bag to her chest in a defensive gesture. “Well, I need to go. Thank you again for your kindness.”
Panic overtook him at the thought that he might never see her again. But before he could think of something to keep her from leaving, she’d turned and was walking toward the door. He followed and made his way to his Lexus, sliding into the car quickly, his intention of purchasing a bottle of water suddenly forgotten. He watched as she strode to the beat-up old Commodore and slipped into the driver’s seat.
She hadn’t looked around, hadn’t appeared remotely curious about him, but seemed to have forgotten his existence almost the moment he was out of her sight. The thought that she could be so unaffected by him was infuriating.
He studied his drab surroundings and questioned how he’d found himself in such a part of Sydney. He was glad that he’d stopped, however, if for no other reason than encountering the captivating creature named Makayla.
He didn’t even think about what he was doing—he was operating on autopilot, the need to see her again was his only concern.
He sat quietly and waited for her to start her car. She fiddled around and looked to be checking her mobile phone. Finally, she started the ignition and pulled out of the service station.
Donovan started his engine and followed behind her. His car’s windows were tinted and as it was dusk, he had no concerns that she would see him. And, after all, she hadn’t even been curious enough to look around for him or his car. He had no other choice, he had to follow her—it was his only hope of finding her again.
Makayla was distracted and tired. Beyond tired, in fact, and hitting the realms of exhaustion. She’d had a busy few days and was relieved to have finally delivered her last basket of mending to its owner. Her mother’s mental state hadn’t helped. Josephine had had a bad week and had required almost constant supervision. That, added to the mending that Makayla took on to augment their meager income, meant that she’d managed little sleep. She huffed in frustration. Obviously, her mother’s new meds weren’t working, and she’d have to make another doctor’s appointment.
Her mind wandered to Donovan King, the gentleman at the service station. Initially, she’d been struck dumb by his appearance. He was extremely handsome and tall. She guessed at least six foot two, so he towered over her petite, four-foot-five frame. He’d been dressed in a bespoke suit, the fabric so fine that she’d found herself wanting to reach out and stroke it. His dark hair fell in unruly waves to just below his ears and his cinnamon-colored eyes seemed to bore right through her. He had a hard jaw, described as chiseled in the books she read. His movie star good looks had been enough to make her tongue-tied, but he also had an intimidating presence, which was enhanced by his powerful physique. It had taken her a moment to gather her composure and an odd butterfly effect had settled in her belly.
She knew she’d never see him again and the thought saddened her. Odd, as she’d just met him and the meeting was only an exchange of names, nothing concrete. But something about him had stirred feelings deep inside her. Of course, she’d more than appreciated his paying for her fuel. That episode had been embarrassing to say the least. There was nothing more mortifying than being caught short of funds—particularly as she could hardly siphon the fuel back out of her tank. But it was more than his kindness to her. She’d felt an irresistible pull toward him, an intense attraction that she hadn’t ever felt before. She’d been so tied in knots that she hadn’t even thought to ask for his number so she could do something to return his kindness—that would have been a perfect excuse to see him again. But then, why would such an obviously successful and handsome man be interested in her?