When her very private and naughty-natured artwork is sold without her permission, she sets out to try and retrieve her precious paintings, unaware that the buyer has dark sexual tendencies. Dylan Young is an eccentric businessman and art collector with very specific tastes in women and sex, and serious trust issues. When he comes upon a very erotic set of paintings, he purchases them and they ignite a want and need for the alternative lifestyle he was forced to give up. When the two meet, Dylan immediately picks up on Isabel's submissive nature and hatches a wicked plan to teach Isabel about his alternative lifestyle. He wants nothing more than to get his hands on more of her paintings and to dominate the submissive beauty. Their affair is intensely physical and despite Dylan's wanting only a sexual relationship with distinct boundaries, he can't resist her spirited nature, her eagerness and lack of fear to learn BDSM, and most of all - her immense talent. But Isabel has a hidden dominant streak of her own that only Dylan brings out and as they're drawn closer together, their unconventional relationship is threatened as they each struggle with their pasts and for control.Written in 1st person from both his and her perspective.Warning: Written for mature audiences and includes profanity, graphic sexual encounters and mild BDSM themes.

    Other than his loyal Great Pyrenees, there's no one around to break up the monotony. The tedium is excruciating, but it is suddenly interrupted when a young woman stumbles up his path. He has two choices - pick her off from a distance with his trusty sniper-rifle, or dare let her approach his cabin and enter his life.Why not? It's been ages, and he is otherwise alone...

    He turned and smiled at me and I was surprised enough to smile back. This was not a children's candy store, mind you this was the kind of place you went to buy expensive imported chocolate truffles for your boss's wife because you felt guilty for having sex with him when you were both at a conference in Milwaukee. Hypothetically speaking, of course. I've been hit on plenty of times, mostly by men with little finesse who thought what was between their legs made up for what they lacked between their ears. Sometimes I went home with them anyway, just because it felt good to want and be wanted, even if it was mostly fake. The problem with wanting is that it's like pouring water into a vase full of stones. It fills you up before you know it, leaving no room for anything else. I don't apologize for who I am or what I've done in or out of bed. I have my job, my house and my life, and for a long time I haven't wanted anything else. Until Dan. Until now.