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Contents

Important Note:

~ Ground Zero ~

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

~ Absolutely ~

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

~ Someone To Feed It ~

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

~ I’ve Got You Now ~

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

~ Him ~

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

~ As I Fall ~

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

~ The Luckiest Girl In The World ~

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Two Months Later

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Six Months Later

Chapter 43

Acknowledgments

Also by WS Greer

Copyright

First edition published by Kindle Direct Publishing 2022

Publishers Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2022 by WS Greer

Cover design by Robin Harper/Wicked by Design

Interior Design and Formatting by Book Money Inc.

Important Note:

Kingdom is a BDSM romance. While all characters and situations are completely fictional, some scenes may imitate reality, and be harmful to those who have experienced violence or assault. This novel contains depictions of rape play, knife play, bondage, impact play, breath play (choking), and gruesome sadistic thoughts. This novel is for mature audiences only.

~ Ground Zero ~

Chapter One

“Damn, girl! So, you just up and leave work because your favorite author released a new book?”

My eyes bulge as I realize what Juliana just said. “Are you at the office? Keep your voice down! What are you trying to do, get me in trouble?”

The wind whips my hair as I drive on Highway One toward Dover from Newark. The breeze is perfect and the day is beautiful, with a gorgeous blue sky and cotton clouds lightly scattered above me. My mood is right up there with those clouds, because yes, my favorite author did just drop a new book today, and like any responsible fangirl would do, I totally lied to my boss to get out of work so I could go pick up the hardback version.

“Damn,” Juliana exclaims, dragging the word out, and I can see her shaking her gorgeous little head now. “What did you tell Drake?”

“I may have told him I was having some severe … medical issues,” I answer.

“Cramps. You told him it was cramps, didn’t you?”

“It’s not my fault men are afraid of periods!” I bark with a huge smile on my face as I roll underneath the toll and it scans my EZ-Pass. “I saw an opportunity, so I took advantage. You’re supposed to be calling to congratulate me, not judge me. Worst best friend ever.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Juliana says mockingly. “Congratulations Alina, on successfully lying to get out of work so you could drive an hour to Newark to pick up a book from Barnes & Noble, even though you could’ve just ordered it from Amazon like anybody would have. Is that better?”

“No, it’s not!” I chirp. “If I ordered it, Juliana, I would’ve had to wait at least a day for it to show up. I’m not about to wait around for a whole day while a brand new Nathan Booker novel is just sitting on the shelf right up the road from me.”

“An hour up the road.”

“Oh, shut up. It’s not my fault you don’t understand how amazing this man is with the written word. His last book changed my entire life. I told you to read it, but you’re too good.”

Juliana scoffs. “Don’t start with me. I told you, I’m just not big into reading the way you are. I don’t have a favorite author or anything like that. I spend all my time writing anyway.”

“A sexist ‘Women’s only’ section in the Dover News Journal,” I blurt out with a laugh. “You say write as if you’re an author.”

“Oh, my god, I can’t with you today,” Juliana replies, practically rolling her eyes so hard I can hear it through the speakers in my car. “Anyway, Vance is gonna be pissed if he finds out you left for that.”

“That’s why Vance isn’t going to find out, is he? He’s coming over later for dinner, but you guys have a few hours until you’re off work, so I’ll have plenty of time to read a handful of chapters and get ready before then. So, I’m good. No worries.”

“Okay. Just be careful, girl. I know you guys have been on shaky ground lately, and he’s already walking around the office sulking like he misses your adorable little face. But go get your read on. Hit me up later.”

“You know I will.”

“Not about the book.”

“It absolutely will be about the book! How dare you?” I snip, laughing.

“I’m not starting this again, I’ve got work to do. Bye!” Juliana says, before ending the call.

I keep on smiling as I step on the gas and kick my speed up to seventy-five the rest of the way home. I know my boyfriend, Vance, has some time left at work, but I want to make sure I have plenty of time to myself before he comes over to make dinner. We’ve been going through a bit of a rough patch for the past month, and he’s so sensitive about things these days that any little thing could set him off, so I want to make sure I’m up and ready for him to arrive tonight. I plan on reading a few chapters before taking a shower and getting dressed for our night of food and movies on the couch. I just have to get home in time to read. Reading is priority one.

As I pull into the parking space for my apartment, I imagine Vance sulking as he walks throughout the offices of the Dover News Journal where we work. Vance is a sports columnist there who dabbles in editing, and I’m a photographer, and although I made sure to submit my photos before I left the office, I wouldn’t put it past Vance to create a reason to need me this afternoon. Like Juliana said, he and I have been going through it lately. We’ve been together for seven months, but can’t seem to get on the same page lately. It feels like I’m on page two hundred and he’s still stuck on page one, but we have love for each other and we’re trying to work it out. That’s what tonight’s dinner is really all about. We need some alone time with a big splash of romance and hopefully a heaping helping of sex to bust through this wall we’ve been up against. I, for one, am ready to bust, pun intended.

The sexual problems Vance and I have been having aren't a mystery to me. I’m also not complaining about the typical things women criticize when it comes to the men in their lives. It’s not that he can’t get it up, or that he’s not good in bed. He doesn't have a little dick that’s just not enough to satisfy me. Vance has an average-sized dick, with a decent stroke to his name, and he has no problem getting it up. It’s just … well, I’m the problem. I’m an avid reader of erotic romance, and over my extensive time as a reader of all things smutty, some of the things I’ve read have helped to open my mind to kinkier things that I hadn't thought about before I met Vance. Maybe I’ve evolved a bit—all the way to page two hundred—while Vance is still in the same place he was in at the beginning. It’s not Vance’s fault, but sexually I’m starting to desire a little bit more.

It may make me sound crazy, but I have something dark that lives inside me, and every time I read one of these perfectly written novels about a domineering man who sexes a woman crazy, that darkness gets a little stronger. It speaks to me, and it takes total concentration to block out the sound. Sometimes it’s so loud it’s all I can hear. It craves something. Something … forbidden … and painful.

I can barely explain it, but I know it’s there, and it has an appetite that I try to appease with the books I read. The men written on the pages of these books are like gods with perfect bodies and dominant traits to go along with passion, sincerity, and kind-heartedness. Or, if you like your men a little villainous, you can watch them burn the world down while going out of their way to protect the woman in their life. They're perfect. If real men were anything like my book boyfriends, the divorce rate in America would plummet, because straight relationships would actually last as long as gay and lesbian ones do. So, it’s not Vance’s fault that he can’t compete with the guys I read about. I’ve never met a man who can do half the things book men are able to do in the bedroom, and those fictitious men have always been enough to keep the darkness fed. Some book boyfriends are little snacks, while Nathan Booker's novels are four-course meals, but the darkness’s hunger is starting to grow out of control. It wants more than what I can read from a page. It wants the real thing.

When I walk into my apartment, I close the door behind me—making sure to lock it—and place my new book on the couch to wait for me. When the cashier at B&N offered me a bag to put it in, I told her I didn’t need one, because I wanted to glance over at the cover the entire drive home. The book is called The Patient, by Nathan Booker, and when I look at the cover, I know what I’m getting. There’s a beautiful woman lying on her back on a brown couch, with a man dressed in a gorgeous black suit hovering over her. He’s an attractive guy, but it’s not what he looks like that grabs my attention. It’s what he’s doing. He has one hand clasped around the woman’s wrists above her head, while the other hand is gliding a black riding crop down her chest. Both models are completely clothed in all-black, but the image is purely erotic with just enough to let readers know that this man is into something extra. That riding crop on her chest tells all of us that this guy is not on page one in the bedroom. He’s on page two hundred, and I know because I have followed book men just like him all the way there.

Through reading, I’ve learned that there’s something special about outstanding communication between characters, where they express their likes and dislikes with each other, so that by the time they reach the bedroom, everything is clicking like clockwork. The book boyfriends know exactly how to treat a woman, how to touch a woman, and how to fuck a woman. This isn’t wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. Book boyfriends know how to use their hands, and they know that a sex toy isn’t their enemy but their best friend—their tag team partner. The book boyfriends tease the darkness in me that wants more, because they aren't afraid to go further than the average man.

The dark thing caged within me wants sex with a man who isn’t afraid to slap his woman because he knows she likes it. It wants to see how much a riding crop really stings, and it yearns for the pain. It’s curious about floggers, and how much they really hurt. Can it draw blood? I don't want to bleed, but the darkness …

I want to bleed. Bind me. Slap me. Torture me. Whip me. Fuck me.

Fuck. There it is. The voice in my head that speaks only to me, and it says the vilest things. Things I want but don't show. I can’t show them. I can’t give in to them because it’d be too much, but just thinking about it sends me to the moon. I feel myself starting to float away to a place I know I’m not supposed to go, because this isn't a spicy romance novel. This is my real life, and I can’t get caught up with unrealistic, sick fantasies. So, I breathe deeply and check myself. I know I’m more open minded now than ever, but Vance isn’t quite there yet. I haven’t given up on him, but maybe I’m at a point where I don’t want to think about Vance when I have an unopened copy of The Patient sitting on my couch. My four-course meal awaits, and the darkness is pacing in its cage.

People would think I’m insane if they could see me running into my bedroom to practically jump out of my nice pants and blouse, and dive into pink shorts and a white tank top. They’d laugh as they watched me tie my hair into a loose ponytail and slip into my robe, and I’m sure they’d shake their heads as I ran into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of Chardonnay before skipping into the living room and jumping onto the couch feet-first. They’d laugh because they don’t understand what it’s like to have a new book from your favorite author—a person somewhere out there who knows how to write exactly what you crave. This person hits the nail on the head with every new release, and his millions of fans are just as giddy as I am when he gives us something new. So, non-readers may laugh at me, but I feel bad for them, because not having a favorite author to set your mind on fire sounds like hell to me.

Once I’m comfy on the couch, I tuck my feet under me and pick up The Patient. I take a second to marvel at the cover again while I enjoy my first sip of wine, before placing my glass on the end table in front of me and flipping to the title page. My body fills with excitement as I read the title again, smiling to myself as I prepare to dive into this world of erotic perfection. With no more minutes to spare, and not even an ounce of patience left in my body, I turn the page and start to read.

Chapter Two

“I’ve been coming in here talking to you about Lucas a lot,” Ava says, and it takes everything in me not to let my eyes linger on her sexy legs. She has them crossed, but my vision focuses on her skin and tries to crawl up her thighs inch by inch to what she has hiding beneath that blue and white skirt.

“Yes, you have,” I answer, doing my best to fight back the urge I feel building inside me like lava in a volcano that has yet to erupt. No one on the outside knows what’s going on, but the heat is building beneath the surface. “And I feel like you’ve made great progress in your ability to communicate and articulate your feelings. I’d say you’ve started down the path of moving on.”

“I agree,” she says, staring at me with one eyebrow raised. “I definitely don’t feel the same attachment to him that I used to, but that’s not a coincidence. It’s you, Dr. Colson. You’re the one who has helped me to focus on what’s right in front of me. I see you, and I feel like you see me in the exact same way.”

We lock eyes, and it’s like we’re communicating without having to say a word. Ava’s in my head, and I can tell she sees what I’m thinking. She knows how bad I want her. How much I wish I could see her on her knees in front me, awaiting my commands. She can see it in me, but that’s not the part that has me in a chokehold. The worst part is that she’s my patient, and she wants the same thing. I get all the confirmation I need when Ava uncrosses her legs, placing both feet on the hardwood floor, and slowly spreads her legs, revealing to me that she isn’t wearing panties beneath that skirt.

I sit on my couch with my robe fastened tightly around me, and my mouth agape as I read through The Patient with wide eyes. I’m enthralled with the book, and for the last hour I’ve been drinking it down as fast as possible. Once again, Nathan Booker has released a classic. It feels like it was written just for me. The way he’s able to use metaphors that help me envision exactly what he means when he’s being descriptive, and the way the main character is both caring for his patient and also wrapped up in his own desire for her has me twisted into knots. I can only imagine what it would be like having a therapist like the one Nathan has created here.

“Ava,” I mumble as the struggle to fight my desires starts to become overwhelming.

“I know what you’re going to say, Dr. Colson,” Ava says, keeping her legs apart. She sees me staring. She knows I’m in a trance for her, and she won’t stop until we both get what we want out of this session. “You’re going to tell me that you’re my therapist, and that I’m reading the situation wrong. You’re going to try to convince me that you don’t want me the way I want you, and that my fixation on you is simply a reaction to my desire to get over Lucas. But, we both know this is more than that. I told you from the beginning that I wanted more than what Lucas was able to give me. He was sweet and innocent, and I need someone with a firm hand—a hand that isn’t afraid to wield a paddle or chains. A hand that isn’t afraid to slap me across the face if I disobey. A hand that demands my submission. I need your hands, Dr. Colson. I want them all over me, on my body, pulling my hair, and around my throat. Lucas can’t give me what I need. He’s not strong enough. Only you can help me. So, I’m asking you to throw away the professionalism, and give in to what I already can see burning behind those beautiful eyes of yours. Give in to who you truly are and what you really want. You have my permission to take control, Dr. Colson. You have my submission.”

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