Longtime submissive, Patch Williams, never quite finds the release she seeks. When a new Dom comes to town, offering play she’s never tried before, it’s a battle to give into the pleasure he offers while keeping her wolf nature a secret.

Home from overseas service, Kennedy Laurie realizes a few things about himself—he only gets off when a little sadism is involved, and he’s terrified of going too far, getting lost in the play. Patch might be just the submissive he’s been dreaming of.

Patch recognizes the call to mate…but with an out-of-towner? Her body demands for her to submit, to tell him everything, but can her Dom tame the Wolf on a Leash?

Patch is a submissive wolf who has being slipping through as many loopholes as she can without being in direct defiance of Drew and Ryker. While Ryker hasn’t told her not to go to the BDSM club, he hasn’t said she could either. She goes to the Club when she needs release from all the pressures around her and tonight is the night. Gee has a bad feeling and shows up warning her not to go.

Of course not being ordered by her Alpha means she will indeed go. So in her wolf mask and club clothes off she goes.

Kennedy is part owner of the club with his best friend Ogre. Now discharged from the military after his last deployment, he has no interest in playing. With his PTSD he is afraid he might get too lost in a scene and things would get out of hand. Then he meets Lupine (Patch’s moniker for the club) and feels an attraction he has never felt before. Here is a favorite scene where they meet.

“I’m sorry. I—” He cleared his throat. “Minotaur. You are?” No collar marred the delicate line of her throat, meaning she wasn’t owned.

He wasn’t sure why he cared, since he’d not come to play, but she wasn’t collared and it thrilled him.

Her lips turned up in a smile, almost as if she had a bit of a secret. His body reacted, an almost audible click inside him, and he lusted her at merely that slow Cheshire movement of her bright red lips. “Lupine. When I’m here, I’m Lupine.” The sound of her voice stroked him, despite the distance between them, and he suddenly hoped he’d get to touch the body that went with the voice.

“Wolfish, a reflection of your mask. Nice. Beautiful flower choice.” You’re beautiful. He didn’t say the words, though, shocked at his own turn of thought. He wasn’t the kind of man who felt the need for flattery or romantic notions, preferring his play rough and wild.

“I thought it was apt. So, Minotaur, we’ve never met before, and I’ve been coming here for years….” She left it at that, the question in her statement obvious, if unspoken. Who are you, and why are you in my club? Meaning she told the truth and was comfortable with her position in their society— something he and Ogre intended with the select membership and close nature of the members of their group.

“I’ve been out of town.” He might not have been at the club in years, but he remembered the rules. Nothing personal, nothing to disrupt the play with the uncomfortable realities of the outside world. They chose the location, the membership— all of it, really— with the intent of making a safe, private, and exclusive place where almost anything could happen.
Part of him longed to tell this girl more, though. To curl up beside her and tell her whatever she wished to hear, so long as she kept talking to him. The sheer strangeness of his response left him hesitant, and he took a step back, creating more space between them.

She stood, apparently not noticing his need for distance. As she moved toward him, he stiffened. However, she stopped little more than a foot away. Not crowding him, but still closer than he preferred her to come. “Nice to meet you.” Her small offered hand only proved she was close enough to touch. Close enough to taste. Close enough to smell.

The ripe scent of her— something musky and floral and female all in one sweet breath— stiffened his body further. He desired the little wolf, more than he’d craved another woman in longer than he cared to remember.

Which meant he was dangerous to her. Some of the things he’d imagined in dreams…. He pinched his eyes closed, almost as if he could escape the dark twisting paths of his own mind. Instead of answering, he turned away from her, heading to the door.

Her hand on his arm ground him to a halt, and he breathed through his mouth to resist smelling the mesmerizing blend of her aroma. “Wait, I’m sorry. I was being too forward. I’m sorry….”

She tapered off, running out of words and withdrawing her hand.

“You have a master?” The lack of collar spoke volumes, but he needed to be certain.

“No. I play, sure, but, well, I’m not anyone’s property or anything, if that is what you’re asking. I only take part in scenes, or, well….”
“Would you be interested in negotiating play, little wolf?” Even as he damned himself for making the offer, part of him surged up, ready to take her— right then if he could.

She froze at his words, looking startled. Quickly regaining her composure, however, she nodded. As she licked her full lips, further hardening his already rock-hard cock with the tempting peek of pink, she considered his body before she answered. “I would, yes.
Nelson, Virginia. Wolf on a Leash (Black Hills Wolves Book 15) (Kindle Locations 199-229). Decadent Publishing. Kindle Edition.

Now when a dominant finds his/her mate they can usually formulate a reasonable plan for making this fact known. But Patch is a submissive both in human form and wolf. This man she believes is her mate, while human is a Dom. So dominant in fact that he fullfills her every dream of a Dom. But how does she stand up to her Alpha and Enforcer in wanting a human and how does she divulge that she is a wolf to the man of her dreams.

A very hot, sexy read. One I couldn’t put down and one that showed how powerful a submissive really is.

5 Contented Purrs for Virginia!

Virginia Nelson

Virginia Nelson believed them when they said, “Write what you know.” Small town girl writing small town romance, her characters are as full of flaws, misunderstandings, and flat out mistakes as Virginia herself.

When she’s not writing or plotting to take over the world, she likes to hang out with the greatest kids in history, play in the mud, drive far too fast, and scream at inanimate objects.

Virginia likes knights in rusted and dinged up armor, heroes that snarl instead of croon, and heroines who can’t remember to say the right thing even with an author writing their dialogue.

Her books are full of snark, sex, and random acts of ineptitude—not always in that order.