Free Goldie & the Three Doms by Patricia Green Page B

the main room was comfortable and lived in. A fire burned in the stone fireplace, and comfy-looking overstuffed chairs and a sofa dotted the space. To her right was a large kitchen with a breakfast bar on which two fragrant loaves of bread cooled.
    She dripped on the bright rag rug. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I got a bit wet as I ran for the porch.”
    “No problem.” He hurried off toward the back of the house and then returned with a fluffy green towel. “Come in, come in. The fire is warm.”
    Goldie took a few more steps inside and patted her hair and face and the back of her neck dry with the towel. Her tie-dyed crop top seemed inadequate for the day, but she watched as his eyes traveled over her, and her interest piqued. He was a pleasant looking man with a farmer’s tan and curly blond hair.
    She offered her hand. “I’m Goldie. Thank you for your hospitality.”
    His work-roughened hand held firm to hers. “Bob Bentley,” he said. “Please sit down.”
    Smiling, she sat near the hearth.
    They talked for a few minutes, mostly about the weather and its unpredictability on Bear Island. He offered tea and toast and she accepted. Finally, unable to resist, Goldie asked him a personal question. “Are you married, Bob?”
    “No. No man on Bear Island is married. We move away once we find just the right woman.”
    “Wow. You’re so well established on your little farm. How long have you been on the island?”
    He seemed a little embarrassed as he squirmed in his plush chair. “Many years. A good woman is hard to find.”
    Goldie could relate.
    “What brings you to the island?”
    “I came to find just the right man. All the good ones seem to be taken on the mainland.”
    His eyes roamed her face and he licked his lips. “I like you,” he told her. “Wanna get it on and see if we’re compatible?”
    Bob Bentley was a nice guy. They had a few things in common. And, he baked a mean loaf of bread. “Sure. But I’m no slut. I draw the line at touchie-feelie.”
    “No problem. You realize, of course, that I’m a Dominant.”
    “You strike me as a normal kind of guy.”
    “I’m a demon in the bedroom,” he warned, then hedged. “Not literally.”
    “I’m game.”
    “Take off your clothes and come into the playroom with me.”
    Playroom? Goldie quickly shucked her clothes while he watched, enjoying the lascivious look in his eyes as they lingered on her full breasts and narrow waist. A bulge formed in his denim overalls, and she wondered if she’d been hasty in putting oral sex off limits. Nonetheless, she followed him into the playroom.
    The room was bare except for a trapeze bar hanging from the ceiling, and a well-made wooden chest of drawers.
    “Put your hands on the trapeze,” he instructed. She complied and he got a pair of fur-lined leather wrist cuffs from the chest and clipped them to the bar. Once he’d secured Goldie’s wrists, he made sure that her wrists were held firmly in place, and that the bonds were just right. “You’re remarkably pretty.” He ran his hands over her flanks, and cupped her breasts tenderly.
    Goldie wondered when the good stuff was going to start. So far, there’d been a lot of hat and no cattle. “Thanks.”
    He manipulated her nipples gently, then with a little more pressure, until she moaned with pleasure. “That feels good, Bob.”
    Pressing his mouth to a peaked nipple, he sucked and bit lightly.
    Warmth stired in her loins. Unfortunately, he picked that moment to stop and go back to the chest. Bob rummaged around a bit, returning with a blindfold.
    “Do you trust me?”
    She bit her lip. “Well…”
    “Your safe word is ‘prestidigitation’.”
    “’Prestidigitation?’ Can’t we just settle on ‘stop-you-rotten-prick’?”
    “Oh now, don’t be like that. Do you want me to quit?”
    “No.” She eyed him, looking for signs of corruption, but none were visible. “Okay.”
    He gently tied the blindfold on her, and Goldie shivered with