In His Hands

By Raven McAllan

In Monsoon season, in Hong Kong, anything can happen... even so, the last thing Caness Clacher expected was to meet a Dom. The very man who made her want to sink to her knees and say, “Yes, Sir.”

Unbeknown to Caness, Patrick Lim had waited a long time to claim her as his sub.

Without electricity and with a monsoon raging, it’s time to explore their desires. Will the elements work in their favor or not?
Only time—and a scene—will tell.

This is a previously published work. It has been revised and edited for Evernight Publishing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Aug 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781773393667

Raven McAllan

After 30 plus years in Scotland, Raven now lives near the east Yorkshire coast, with her long-suffering husband, who is used to rescuing the dinner, when she gets immersed in her writing, keeping her coffee pot warm and making sure the wine is chilled. With a new home to decorate and a garden to plan, she’s never short of things to do, but writing is always at the top of her list. Her other hobbies include walking along the coast and spotting the wildlife, reading, researching, cros stitch and trying not to drop stitches as she endeavours to knit. Being left-handed, and knitting right-handed, that’s not always easy.

Book preview

Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2017 Raven McAllan

ISBN: 978-1-77339-366-7

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: JS Cook

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To Paul with love.

Without you, I would have never visited my favorite place in the world, and this book would not have been written.

To Caness for letting me use her name. To Helen and Cherry for making sure I had my Hong Kong as it should be.

To you the readers, and everyone at Evernight, especially JoAnne and Jay. Because of you all I have the opportunity to keep doing what I love. Writing with you all in mind.

And the fantastic Doris O’Connor the best friend and wielder of the red type anyone could wish for. Her ‘rediting’ keeps me straight.

Thank you.

IN HIS HANDS

Raven McAllan

Copyright © 2017

Chapter One

She should be in a rush. Instead, she stood and ignored the heavy downpour known as black rain that indicated typhoon weather. There was little enough time to get home before all public transport was suspended for the duration, but Caness still didn’t move. It might be her last day at work before she went freelance, but she’d still had obligations and left late. Now she wished she wasn’t so bloody conscientious, but it was ingrained in her psyche. Or imbibed with her mother’s milk. Finish what you start.

However, a Hong Kong typhoon was not to be messed with.

Her long red hair, so at odds with her vaguely oriental looks, had left its plait once the growing wind caught it and was now plastered to her skull and hung almost to her waist. God knows what sort of a mess it would be when it dried. Corkscrew ringlets no doubt. Her once pristine and demure work suit was fast becoming tight, and more sexy than suitable for a day of meetings. Nevertheless, Caness Clacher remained steadfast as she stared into the gallery window at the glorious barbaric and unique jewelry she saw there. No doubt it cost a king’s ransom.

What? She blinked and looked closer to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. No, it was there all right, and it was what she thought at first glance. Silver fetters, of twisted strands, which looked as if it were a collection of barbs. On closer inspection Caness could see the barbs were an illusion, and there were no sharp ends to mark or tear the skin. Wrist cuffs and a thick collar completed the set.

She salivated, and her pussy muscles contracted as she thought how she would feel wearing them. Them and little else. She moaned softly—talk about making her completely wet. Her underwear was now as damp as her outerwear. How come she’d never seen things like that in here before? She walked this alley with its expensive designer shops, art and craft galleries, and boutiques every day.

Usually in a rush.

Nothing before ever caught her eye and made her slow or stop to look more closely.

Just this.

In black rain, and a rapidly approaching deadline of no transport until the typhoon passed. She must need her head examined.

Lovely, isn’t it? It would suit you, Caness. The velvet tones with a hint of an accent she couldn’t place curled around her like a warm security blanket. They were so mesmeric her mouth became dry and her clit tightened into a painful throbbing nub. Lord, she hadn’t felt such an instantaneous reaction since her first date with the school lothario, and that had ended once he’d opened his mouth and talked rubbish.

That and nothing else, the stranger said with a definite note of authority in his voice. On your knees, before me.

Her legs began to dip before she came out of her reverie and straightened. What the hell? Had she really been going to assume the position of a perfect sub, in public and no doubt in a puddle? Caness shook her head in amazement and the stranger stepped back to miss the water that she scattered with her actions.

Er… It was several seconds before the fact registered that not only did he know her name, he’d pronounced it correctly—Kennis. Most people said it like the French city, which was infuriating to say the least. Nevertheless, it was