Free The Last Good Knight by Tiffany Reisz

Entirely unbearable. She needed something, someone, safety and comfort, and distraction. She needed an amazing distraction. She ran up to her bedroom and changed from her fetish-wear into more normal clothes—a plain black skirt, black sweater, stockings and low-heeled black boots. She threw on her coat and headed out again, knowing her destination before even admitting it to herself.
    Forty minutes later she arrived, parking her car where no one would see it and its telltale SAY OUCH vanity plate.
    She prayed he would be home and her prayer was answered. She knocked and he opened the door, greeting her with only a raised eyebrow and not a word.
    She didn’t bother with a greeting, either. She merely stepped past him and walked into his house like she owned the place.
    If she couldn’t have Lance, she’d have the one and only man who she wanted more than him tonight.
    Søren.
    * * * * *

The Last Good Knight
Part III: The Games Destiny Plays
    Tiffany Reisz
    An Original Sinners Story
Told in Five Parts

The Last Good Knight: An Original Sinners novella told in five parts.
    Part III: The Games Destiny Plays
    Shocked to see Nora’s bruises, Lance is furious that she put herself in danger and demands to know where she got them. As Nora confesses her true nature, she’s equally shocked to learn that Lance has some secrets of his own, drawing them together despite Kingsley’s orders....

“Don’t look at me like that,” Nora said as she stepped into his kitchen.
    “How am I looking at you?” Søren closed the door behind her and locked it. She shucked off her coat and sat on the edge of the kitchen table.
    “Like you’ve been expecting me.”
    “I was expecting you. I knew you’d want to talk about Natasha. I saw it in your eyes last night at Kingsley’s.”
    “Ha,” she said as Søren came to her and stood in front of her. “Shows how much you know. I don’t want to talk about Natasha.”
    He crossed his arms over his chest. Now late evening, he’d abandoned his clerics for normal clothes—black long-sleeved T-shirt, black jeans. Even off-duty he couldn’t get away from all black. She saw a glass of wine on the kitchen counter and smelled a fire burning in his fireplace. Briefly she wondered if she’d interrupted him entertaining someone. But no, it was one glass of wine—not two—on the counter. They were alone, and she was ashamed of her relief.
    “Is that so?” he asked. “Then what do you want to talk about, Eleanor?”
    “Nothing,” she said as she raised her mouth to him for a kiss. “Nothing at all.”
    Søren didn’t seem to care if they talked tonight or not. She kissed him first, but he kissed her harder, deeper, and with such desperate possessiveness she almost forgot she didn’t belong to him anymore—a dangerous sort of amnesia. Nora could have stopped him with a word but the only word that passed her lips came in the form of a question.
    “Bedroom?”
    “Now,” Søren ordered and in seconds they’d reached the top of his stairs. Once there he lifted her off the floor, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his back. As a Dominatrix she had to be strong, all the time. Men submitted to her, feared her, knelt at her feet and worshipped her. Tonight she needed to be his, needed to submit, needed to be the one on her knees. So she’d come to Søren, the one man she gave up her power to, if only for the night.
    “Hurt me,” she begged and he slammed her back into the wall with bruising force. His kisses were equally bruising. He bit at her bottom lip and she tasted blood.
    He let her down and the moment her feet touched the floor his hand grabbed the back of her neck with a vicious, merciless grip. In the open doorway of his bedroom, he shoved her to her knees, exactly where she wanted to be. Impossibly strong fingers dug into her skin as she rested her forehead against his hip. She breathed through the pain, breathed through it and into it, not fighting it. She