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He wants to give her everything she wants—and what she wants is a baby.

Sam and Collette have a wonderful life—and hella kinky love life. As a service-oriented submissive, nothing gives Sam more pleasure than giving his Domme everything she asks of him…and nothing makes Collette happier than coming up with fun and kinky things to ask for.

But her most recent request isn’t a kinky one—she wants a baby. And Sam is enthusiastically on board, with one condition—he wants to get married first.

Collette isn’t opposed to marriage, though it feels strange to be considering it only because a baby might be on the way. Plus, there’s the way Sam proposed—by listing all the legal and societal protections that marriage provides for kids. But while the proposal was less than romantic, it’s clearly important to Sam. So they make a deal—if Collette gets pregnant, they’ll get married.

Deal in place, they turn their attention to baby making—a process that Collette makes as kinky as possible to offset the pressure of trying to conceive. But while they’re having fun, the uncertainty of the future weighs on them both.

Will their happily ever after include both a wedding and a baby—or neither?

This is the last book in the Perfect Taboo series, but it's one I had planned from the very beginning. I'd never written a femme domme romance before, and I was very excited about it. I first conceived of it as a relationship-in-trouble story, but it just didn't seem right for Sam and Collette. Though we don't see a lot of their relationship in previous books, they've always been in the back of my mind, waiting for their turn, and I just couldn't bring myself to give them the kind of conflict that might end them (I tend to be conflict-avoidant, y'all might have noticed). And I really liked the idea of a D/s couple navigating the challenges and changes that a pregnancy--and parenthood--would bring to their lives. I hope I'll get to revisit them 

Chapter One

Sam Butler finished giving his report to the day shift nurse, wished her luck with the guy in curtain area four who was insisting the potato currently lodged in his rectum got there accidentally, and headed for the break room. His eyes felt like someone had poured sand in them, his mind was fuzzy with fatigue, and the sandwich he’d grabbed between codes around midnight was a faint memory.

He was half an hour past the end of his twelve-hour shift and more than ready to go home.

Stomach rumbling, he opened his locker and wondered if he should stop somewhere for breakfast or fix something when he got home.

If he stopped, he could eat in the car and fall straight into bed when he got home. But if he waited, he could have breakfast with Collette.

He slipped out of his work shoes and checked his watch. It was nearly a quarter to eight, and since she didn’t teach class on Wednesdays until ten, she’d just be getting up. She’d have hit Snooze twice before finally rolling out of bed and should be just stumbling into the shower, where she’d stand sleepily under the spray, hot enough to boil lobsters, until it began to cool. Then she’d scramble to wash and climb out, shivering, to wrap herself in his robe and shuffle into the kitchen for her first cup of coffee.

If he hurried, he could make it for her.

The idea brought a jolt of adrenaline that burned away the fog of fatigue. With renewed energy, he crammed his feet into his boots, put the work shoes in the bottom of his locker, and grabbed his coat. Shrugging it on, he clocked out and headed for the exit with a spring in his step.

He only got stopped twice on the way out, which might have been a new record, then stepped out into the frigid January morning. A thin layer of new snow covered the ground, crunching under his feet as he hurried to his car. From the looks of the clouds covering the sun that still kissed the horizon, more snow was on its way, and he made a mental note to shovel before he left for work that evening.

The drive home didn’t take long, going against the flow of traffic, and the sun was peeking out from between the clouds by the time he pulled up to the tidy brick bungalow he shared with Collette. He trudged up the walk, shoulders hunched against the wind, and let himself into the house.

The house was dark, the watery sunlight peeking through the blinds the only illumination, and the faint sound of the shower running came from the back of the house. He toed off his boots and hung up his coat, then headed for the kitchen, stopping to turn the thermostat up as he went.

With the furnace rumbling to life, he started the first pot of coffee. And when he pulled eggs and cheese out of the fridge and set a skillet on the stovetop, the tension and the stress of twelve hours in the ER melted away.

The simple routine of cooking soothed, but knowing he was making a meal for his lover was what pleased him. He added a chunk of butter to the skillet to sizzle, then cracked two eggs into a bowl. He added a dollop of cream, the way she liked, and beat the mix to fluffy perfection before pouring it into the pan with the melted butter. He added a pinch of salt and a dash of pepper, then lowered the flame. The shower had just shut off, and Collette would want to sip her coffee for a bit before eating.

He gave the eggs a quick stir and slid two slices of whole wheat bread into the toaster. He’d just pressed the lever when the shuffle of slippers on the wood floor made him turn.

She stood in his oversized robe, her feet crammed into the slippers she’d gotten for Christmas. Rafael and Donatello adorned her toes, while Michelangelo and Leonardo decorated the pair he’d been given, so between them they had all four of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles her nephews were currently obsessed with. Her dark hair was wet and combed back from her high forehead, her white skin pale and faintly translucent in the morning light. Her sleepy hazel eyes blinked at him, registering surprise, then a soft smile bloomed on her unpainted mouth.

Delighted that he’d managed to surprise her, he set the spatula aside. “Good morning.”

“You’re home,” Collette said, her voice still husky from sleep, and crossed the room to lay her cheek against his in her usual greeting. “Mmm, scratchy.”

“I need a shave,” he admitted. He leaned into her, letting the feel of her soothe. “You sleep okay?”

“Mostly,” she said, then sighed. “Missed you, though.”

“I missed you, too, Ma’am,” he said and felt her lips curve against his neck.

He only called her ‘Ma’am’ when they were in a scene, or when he felt the need for a deeper connection with her. Since he’d been working nights since November, scenes had been few and far between.

“Darling boy,” she whispered and lifted her hand to stroke, then hold, the back of his neck. The pressure was light, barely there, but it still sent a tingle through him. It was the touch of his Mistress, and he’d missed it.

He stood there for a moment, reveling in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Then the toast popped up, and he drew back to smile at her.

“Permission to get the toast, Ma’am?”

“Granted,” she said, the gold flecks in her hazel eyes glinting at him, and stepped over to the coffee pot.

He plucked the bread from the toaster and set it on the plate he had waiting. “Butter or jam?”

“Butter, please,” she said, and with coffee in hand, crossed to sit at the small table under the kitchen window.

He buttered the toast and carried it to the table, then crossed back to the stove to check the eggs. They were almost done, so he turned off the heat to let them finish in the hot pan and got out a block of cheese.

“Lots of cheese or a little?” he asked.

“Lots. I have freshman composition today, and I’m going to need the protein.”

“Tough class?”

“Just frustrating. Freshman classes are always frustrating. They’re used to high school, where someone held their hand and babied them through, and right about halfway through the first year of college they figure out nobody’s going to do that anymore and they panic.”

He finished grating cheese over her eggs, gave them a quick stir, then scooped them out onto a plate. He snagged a fork from the drawer and laid the plate in front of her with a flourish. “Your eggs, Ma’am.”

“Thank you.” She took the fork he held out, one eyebrow raised when he sat down across from her. “Aren’t you going to make some for yourself?”

He preferred his eggs fried and his toast several shades darker, and would normally cook for himself after finishing hers. But despite his empty belly, he was more interested in sitting with her than he was in food. “In a minute.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she sampled her eggs. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine, Ma’am.”

Her eyes stayed narrowed. “That’s the third time you’ve called me Ma’am this morning.”

He shrugged. “I miss you. Being on the night shift, I feel like we hardly see each other.”

She laid down her fork to take his hand. “We knew it would be tough.”

“I know. But we haven’t had a scene since…”

“Before Christmas.”

“Yeah.” He lowered his gaze to the table. “I’m sorry.”

“Darling boy.” Her voice was firm, the command in it clear, and he lifted his gaze to meet hers. “That is not your fault.”

“I know that, too,” he assured her. “I just feel like I’m not holding up my end of the deal.”

“We don’t have a ‘deal’,” she chided him, tenderness warming her firm, no-nonsense tone. “We have a relationship, one that adjusts and changes according to our needs.”

“I know.”

Her voice went steely, her eyes sharp. “Do you?”

God, she was beautiful when she was in Mistress mode. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good.” She picked up her coffee, eyeing him over the rim of the cup. “I’d hate for my Friday night plans to go to waste.”

The hint of censure in the words made him want to wince, but then the phrase Friday night plans sank in. “Friday?”

“You’re off work, right?”

“Thursday and Friday,” he confirmed, giddy hope warring with the fatigue. “Are we doing something?”

“If you’re up for it.”

“I’m up,” he assured her. “I’m so up I could float away.”

Her amusement deepened. “Then it’s a date.”

“A date,” he agreed, flushed with delight. “Should I do anything to prepare?”

“Rest,” she advised. “You’ll need it.”

His sigh was pure delight. “Thank you, God.”

She let out a husky laugh. “You’ll need to do a few other things, too. But they’ll have to wait. I need to finish my breakfast.”

He tamped down on his eagerness, knowing from experience that pushing would get him nowhere and pouting would not be well received. “Can I get you another cup of coffee?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” She handed him her cup, and he rose to cross to the pot. “And make your breakfast.”

Her tone was one that he was intimately familiar with—and he knew better than to argue. “Yes, Ma’am.”

He lit the flame under the skillet and got out two more eggs. “Is there anything you need me to do today?”

“You could shovel the drive before you go to work tonight. We’re supposed to get more snow today.”

“Already on my list.” He cracked eggs into the skillet. “Anything else?”

“Why don’t you see if my good boots need a polish,” she suggested, smiling when he turned to stare at her. “For Friday night.”

If she wanted her boots polished, it meant she was planning to use them. The thought brought sudden and exquisite arousal. “I will.”

“Good.” Fresh coffee in hand, she rose. “Thank you for breakfast, Sam. It was delicious.”

Pleasure curled in his belly, warm and easy. “You’re welcome.”

She pressed her cheek to his, then pulled back to look into his eyes. “I love you, darling boy.”

The pleasure morphed into a burst of joy. “I love you, too.”

“I know. Get some sleep today, all right?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good boy,” she murmured, and with a light press of her lips to his, walked out of the kitchen, leaving him frustratingly aroused, madly in love, and wishing it was Friday.

 

* * * *

 

“You didn’t tell him.”

Collette winced. The words were said without criticism, but guilt swamped her anyway. “No. I had to go to work, and he was so tired coming off his shift. It just didn’t seem like the right time.”

James watched her over his coffee cup, a calm and nonjudgmental silver fox. “Reasonable.”

 “And I chickened out,” she admitted.

James’ only response to that was a slight twitch of his lips and crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

“It shouldn’t be this hard,” she complained, toying with the handle of her cup. The coffee in it held no appeal, but she’d needed something to do with her hands. “It’s not like we’ve never discussed it before.”

“When was that?”

“We talked about it when we first started dating,” Collette said, thinking back. “And again when we moved in together.”

“That was what, four years ago?”

“About that.”

James set his coffee down. “And I’d wager those discussions were fairly abstract, a sort of check-in to see if you were still on the same page about something that may or may not happen in the future.”

“I suppose.”

“But now,” James went on, his handsome face set in somber lines, “it’s not abstract.”

“No, it’s not.” Collette shoved her coffee to the side and gave in to the urge to rest her head on the table. “I feel like a coward.”

“You’re not a coward,” James soothed. “At least no more than any other human being.”

She lifted her head with a short laugh. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s a hard conversation,” James continued, unfazed by her sarcasm, “because one way or another, the outcome will affect your relationship with Sam.”

That was what she was afraid of. “I’ll do it this weekend. He has Friday off, so we’re going to have a date.”

“A play date?” James asked.

“Yes. Our schedules haven’t allowed for much play lately, so it’s been a while. We both miss it. The play, of course, but also the connection that comes with it.”

“You’re not planning to make this discussion part of your scene?”

“No,” she assured him. “I’ll talk to him after, on Saturday. He’ll be rested, and we’ll have time to talk before he has to go to work.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

Collette pressed a hand to her belly. “I’m scared, James.”

“I know.” James eyed her in his calm, steady way. “Has he given you any indication that his feelings in this area have changed?”

“No.”

“Have you thought about what you’ll do if they have?”

“I can barely think of anything else.”

“And?” James prompted.

“I love Sam,” Collette said, the truth of the words giving her voice strength. “I want to be with him whether the answer is yes or no.”

Then she sighed. “But I really want the answer to be yes.”

In Her Service is a BDSM romance with a dominant heterosexual woman and a submissive bisexual man. As such, there are some common BDSM activities such as bondage, infliction of physical pain for sexual gratification, and one partner controlling the other. There are also some specific kinks you should be aware of:

• ·      Needle play in, among other things, the hero's genitals
• ·      Electrical play (e-stimulator) - also applied to the hero's genitals
• ·      Snowballing/come eating
• ·      Breeding kink
• ·      Partner sharing

There is also discussion of pregnancy and conception, including the possibilities of infertility.

In Her Service is Book 7 in the Perfect Taboo series - and the last! It features a dominant woman, a submissive man, and a happily ever after.