Never A Choice (The Choices Trilogy (Book 1)) by Dee Palmer Page A

city.’ He signed me up to the toughest self defence and martial arts class in the area. It does mean I will have to take a shower later in the morning when there is likely to be bodies around. Still that can’t be helped this morning because I need to try and clear my head, as Sofs said, I need to “get some perspective.” I make my way to Hyde Park Corner and across into Green Park. This early there were only a handful of runners and I set a brisk pace picking a route that would take in St James Park too before bringing me back to Hyde.
    I can’t get my head around the events of yesterday. The call last night was unreal and I’m reeling with confusion, it was undeniably ‘off the charts’ hot. That the caller could make me feel the way I did, react the way I did and with such intensity. I felt real guilt at lying even when realistically, how could he know? Alarmed by the shocking surge of pleasure from obeying him, pleasing him and seriously why should I care? Not to mention the desperate burning need for him to make me come. His cessation and subsequent denial of my climax had been my punishment and I took it and not for a moment did I entertain the notion that I wouldn’t continue to obey his demand. I am so confused that I’m Ok with that? No I’m not Ok with that, I bloody loved it! Maybe that is the difference between being a submissive and being merely subservient, either way I feel I’m on one hell of a learning curve. As with learning anything new, there is always an element of confusion to begin with I just have to accept this is a lesson or lessons in self-discovery, learning new aspects of ‘my kinky self’ with no harm done. My feet pound the path and I can feel the sweat gather in droplets and trickle down my spine
    Then there is Daniel Stone. I don’t understand why he needs to know my secrets, why he needs to know any information about me, or why on earth he wants to fuck me. It’s not that I’m a troll but I have seen pictures of the women he dates and I am not them. Glorious blondes with luscious manes of hair, legs up to their armpits and likely to scream at the sight of a bowl of pasta. Maybe I should just fuck him. The last thing I want is to be a challenge to a man like him, a man who thrives on challenges or a puzzle to solve. He doesn’t strike me as the sort of man backing down at a perceived challenge. He is obviously used to demanding and getting exactly what he demands. If fucking him will diffuse this before it escalates further then maybe he will forget about my secrets, forget about me.
    I am unlikely to rock his world in the bedroom department. I can just imagine a man of his considerable talents, if his fingers alone are any indication, is used to something close to professional perfection in the sack. Not an inexperienced virgin who puddles in a useless liquid mess at his mere presence, Christ! I could probably come from his scorching gaze alone and I seriously doubt I am be able to incite the reciprocal reaction. I am not the champion of low self-esteem but I am a complete novice. It must take years of experience to hone those skills he wields like a well handled weapon. This thought makes me uneasy but why should it? Why does it matter how many years and how many partners it takes, maybe he is just a perfectionist, and that thought makes my mouth water. I grab the railing to steady myself as I cool down and stretch. I walk back toward Knightsbridge glad that I am working with Sofia tonight. It’s a private function in a private residence, so there will be plenty of time to discuss my sex life at length. I laugh out loud, my sex life! There’s a first.
    Joe is already unpacking the first delivery when I return. “You better hurry in that shower girl, unless you want an audience.” He gives a cheeky wink as I run up stairs and grab my work clothes.
    Back down and outside the shower I turn back to Jo. “I’ll get changed in here, then there’s no danger of frightening